Free Branegate by James C. Glass Page A

Lan,” said Trae. “I’m Trae, and you’re holding two tickets to Galena for me.”
    “All ready for you,” said the man, and handed Trae an envelope. “Your departure was scheduled for tomorrow, but there have been inquiries about you so you’ll be boarding in an hour. Please remain here in the lounge until twenty minutes before boarding, and we’ll arrange a diversion to send you on your way. Your luggage is already on board.”
    “Thanks for your attention to this,” said Trae.
    “Wherever or whatever,” said the man. “The Source is with all of us.”
    Trae told Petyr what had happened. “More spies,” mumbled Petyr. “How far do we have to go to be rid of them?”
    They sat in a corner of the lounge, their backs to the Station counters, and watched the stars go by on a giant observing screen on one wall. The time of their departure approached rapidly, and Petyr was checking his watch to begin their sprint to the port when there was a loud commotion behind them. Two policemen came out of the tunnel leading to Port Four, and they were dragging a red-faced, struggling man between them. A woman followed them, waving her arms and screaming for everyone to hear.
    “Right in front of the counter he took it from me! Tore it right off my wrist and tried to run! Criminal!”
    “Let me go, or you’ll regret it,” snarled the man. “My identity card is in my inside pocket. This is a sham; she shoved her hand into my pants pocket to put the bracelet there, and you’re interfering with official business!”
    The police dragged him away, and as soon as he was out of sight Trae and Petyr walked rapidly down the tunnel to Port Four and boarded the city-sized vessel that would ferry them to Galena over the following four days.
    It was like boarding an asteroid with engines, the rocky exterior of the great ship pitted and scarred by high speed collisions with interplanetary dust and debris. Only a tenth of ship’s volume was living and working space, the rest of it filled with frozen water for reaction mass, and eight thermonuclear reactors for power. Inside the living space one could imagine being in a fine hotel, with restaurants, entertainment lounges, a casino and shops featuring the wares of several planets.
    There were nine levels. Petyr and Trae had a room with two beds on the third. After disconnect from Ariel II it was awkward at first, moving about like drunken monkeys swinging from strap to strap on walls and ceiling, then buckling into recliners for acceleration, low at first, rising to one gee within an hour and lasting for most of the trip.
    They watched films in their apartment, but ate in the restaurants, even gambled a bit. Petyr’s eyes never stopped moving; Trae found himself looking for a furtive glance, a face appearing often near them, the close-spaced eyes of one of the Emperor’s thugs. The whole trip he saw nothing to disturb him, and there were no dreams to break up his sleep. The time passed peacefully for four days, and then they arrived at Galena.
    There were few comparisons with the world of Gan. No soldiers were visible at the spaceport, and there were no checkpoints in or out of the arrival area. People dressed casually in light, loose fitting clothing so that Trae and Petyr stood out in their formal, dark suits. They walked the long tunnel leading to the baggage claim area. Soothing music with no defined rhythm came from speakers in the ceiling. A man dressed in the orange flowing robe of a Lyraen priest went by them in the opposite direction without so much as a glance at them.
    Trae was amazed. “That can’t be a Lyraen priest in public, can it?” he asked Petyr. “Nobody even looked at him, except me.”
    Petyr turned to answer, but looked sharply over his shoulder in surprise.
    “Yes, it’s a Lyraen priest,” said a voice from behind them. “There’s no religious persecution here.”
    Trae slowed, and twisted to look behind him. A small man in baggy pants and a loose,