Murder on the Alpha Centauri Express (excerpt)

Murder on the Alpha Centauri Express

Murder on the Alpha Centauri Express

Chapter 1

Luxuries and Arrivals

Today was my first (and perhaps only) journey as a First Class passenger aboard the most famous interstellar ship in the galaxy. I never dreamt that someone born as Low as me would ever travel on the Alpha Centauri Express.

Despite all of our technological advances, interstellar travel has remained the privilege of the Highers in human society, and even then, only the very rich can afford to travel outside of a cramped suspended-animation vessel.

As I passed through the layers of security, I was grateful that my police passport didn't give any notion that I was not born here on Earth, among the Highers. I was born a Lower on one of the vast floating space stations that accommodated hundreds of millions of factory workers. I had become used to walking in a certain manner, a strut that denoted my position of authority. Despite my relatively meagre wages I dressed in the very finest clothes; a tailor-made suit, antique leather boots that rose to my knees and were in fashion several decades ago, and a wide-brimmed hat with a low crown, because hats were essential to a Higher gentleman's look.

I had taken great care over the years to hide my birth accent, which would give away the fact that I came from the worst Lower station of them all, colloquially known as 'The Slum'. As I checked my baggage in, I spoke in clear and deliberate neutral tones, so the handlers and security guards, themselves Highers, born here on Earth, didn't suspect my humble origins. To them it would be inconceivable for a Lower to be traveling on the most luxurious liner of them all, impossible that they could be serving the likes of me; it did make me smile inside.

The departures lounge of Europe Central was a vast, low ceilinged, sorting room, where both Highers and Lowers stood in long (but separate) queues waiting for their shuttle transport to the various orbital stations or bases on the moons of Jupiter or the mining colony on Mars. It was a smelly, noisy and chaotic scene I was leaving behind as the travelator whisked me along a glass fronted corridor, then behind a concrete wall and down into a new section of the complex.

I held my ticket in my hand; it should have been a ticket to a journey and experience of a lifetime, but it didn't feel like that, it felt more like a sentence, a punishment for a failure. The travelator continued into the twilight of the corridor, while classical music echoed around me, a nice touch but nothing to prepare me for the enormous arched space into which I suddenly emerged.

I had to shield my eyes with my hand for a moment as bright yellow rays of what looked like natural sunlight dropped like giant spears from several circular windows high up in the roof. The roof itself was held up by gothic steel arches, rooted into the ground in columns the width of a small house, so I would guess that the circular windows above must have been a hundred and fifty feet in diameter.

I entered the first class departures hall, the waiting area for interstellar travellers. It had coloured marble floors and an array of statues and art, both human and alien, lining the walls. The travelator came to a gentle halt in the centre of the hall and a small man wearing a peaked cap stood at the end smiling at me.

"Ticket, Sir," he said softly and held out his hand.

I passed him the ticket I had been holding. I probably lost some of my demeanour as I was still gazing about in amazement at the scale and opulence of the hall; and the fact there appeared to be so few people in this immense space.

"Thank you, Sir," said the Ticket Inspector as he handed me back my ticket. "If Sir will care to follow me, I will escort Sir to the Express waiting lounge," he continued.