The destination was the Rigel star system and the Earth colony of Yandro.

Yandro, the fourth and final colony in the United Nations Directorate’s grand scheme to turn humanity into a true interstellar species and bring us into social equality with the eleven genuine empires stretching across the galaxy. Yandro, a planet that had been a complete and utter drain on Sol’s resources ever since the first colonists had set out ten years ago with the kind of media whoop usually reserved for pop culture stars.

Yandro, the reason I’d been kicked out of Western Alliance Intelligence in the first place.

I looked at the dead face still pointed skyward. I have a pretty good memory for faces, but this one still wasn’t ringing any bells. Shifting my attention back to the ticket, I skipped down to the passenger information section at the bottom.

And found myself looking at a digitized photo of myself.

I stared at it, the back of my neck starting to tingle. The photo was mine, the name and ID number printed below it were mine, and if the thumbprint wasn’t mine it was a damn close copy.

Long experience had taught me that it wasn’t a good idea to be caught in the vicinity of a dead body, especially one as freshly dead as this. I took a minute anyway to go through the kid’s other pockets.

It was a waste of a perfectly good minute. He had no ID, no credit tags, no handkerchief, no pocketknife, no unpaid bills, no letters from home. Besides the ticket folder, all he had was a single cash stick with a hundred ninety dollars left on it.

From behind me came the sound of chattering voices, and I turned to see a party of four impeccably dressed young people emerging from the New Pallas for a night on the town. Casually, I stood up and stepped past the crumpled figure, heading down the street as quickly as I could without looking obvious about it.