The journey was shorter than I expected. I woke myself up with a snort and looked out the window at the approaching space station, where metal sprouted from the ground like roots from a tree and twisted into individual launching pads for the spaceships that rested on them. Light reflected off the glass from the signal towers and temporarily blinded me while we made our descent.

  Each major city had their own space station for incoming and outgoing flights for trips off-world, not that you technically needed it as ships could land anywhere they pleased, but for the sake of safety and regulation all ships wishing to land on Earth had to go through one of these stations, for multiple scans and debriefings.

  It stopped fugitives, also known as jumpers, coming in and going out.

  My pod landed with a soft hiss and I entered the fray with the other weary morning travellers; creased suits and ruffled hair were easy to spot as it seemed I wasn’t the only one who had a rushed morning, with little to no sleep. Many commuters who surrounded me worked off-world in the nearest colonies such as Mars; a handful of hours there, a couple of energy drinks when you arrived and a handful of hours back and you had made another commute for one of the big corporations.

  I moved towards my gate queue and got stopped by a man in a grey suit and bags under his eyes that you could hide children underneath. “You Quinton Blake?” he asked, looking me up and down before looking at a picture projected from his forearm.

  “Yeah,” I answered uneasily.

  “Mr Goodwin said to give you this,” he replied, handing me a small antique data-stick. I held it up to my eye and then looked back at him in confusion. These were out of date before I was a kid.

  “What does Gregory want me to do with this?”

  “This is what you need to deliver to our sister station when you arrive.”

  “I have the files I need to deliver,” I said tapping the computer on my forearm. “I don’t know if this is some kind of joke, but I can’t deliver this to our sister station when I arrive there. I’ll be a laughingstock. Does this thing even work still?”

  Grey Suit threw his hands up in the air in frustration and said, “Gregory said you weren’t too bright, but I didn’t think he’d use such an idiot. All you have to do is hand the data-stick over to the head of our sister station when you arrive, then they’ll pat you on that little behind of yours, tell you what a great job you did, and push you on your way.”

  I looked at the data-stick then back at him, confusion overlaying my gaze, but I kept my objections to myself. If this was what Gregory wanted to get delivered, then who was I to say different? If I was in any luck I would be back on Earth a lot sooner than I thought. I pocketed the stick and gave him a small nod and went on my way.

  I rounded a corner to my terminal, and a pretty female Space Station employee stopped me in my tracks and pulled me to one side.

  “Mr Blake, I presume?” she asked with a tilt of the head.

  “Err, yes.”

  “Follow me this way please,” she said.

  I stood watching her, shrinking back at a loss for what to do; if I missed my flight then it would be my ass but I was more worried about how this woman knew my name and what she wanted from me. Biting my lip I glanced nervously at my watch then chased after her. After finally catching up I said, “Where are we going?”

  “To your flight gate, of course, Mr Blake,” she said, all smiles and graceful nods.

  I rechecked my holographic and looked back to where we had come from. “But gate 6 is that way.”

  “Ahh, I see the confusion now,” she said with another far too pleasant smile. “You obviously missed the email with your updated itinerary. Xcorp, as you well know, has several of its own private space-faring vessels, which it uses to courier its most important members of staff. You shall be taking such a vessel today, to get you to your destination.”

  My mouth opened and closed while I slowed my walk. “But, but, you must be mistaken—that’s not me. I’m just about middle management, and that’s stretching it.”

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  “Well, someone in head office must think you’re special, because this is Xcorp’s newest vessel,” she said, pointing to a ship I could see parked on a landing bay through the glass.

  Jet black and mean looking, it was all angles. Two thruster engines that could swallow a grown elephant whole without it touching its sides powered it from the rear. Plasma cannons, lasers, ion blasters and city-destroying photon missiles sat on every available space, giving the ship more weaponry than a military vessel.

  “Are we going to war?” I asked, but she just gave me one of those smiles, which was beginning to get on my nerves. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but you must have the wrong person. I am on a simple business trip—”

  “Are you or are you not one Quinton Blake?”

  I nodded.

  “Then this is your ship and it is waiting for you to board.”

  I looked at her with growing frustration that swelled in the pit of my stomach like a dormant volcano that refused to erupt. Biting the inside of my cheek I nodded my head and allowed her to lead me the rest of the way. Basic tiled floors gave way to checked marble, and the faint sounds of classical music floated on the air as waitresses served cocktails to men in twenty-grand suits. Everyone spoke in hushed tones in case they broke the tranquillity of the environment, I looked down at my own crumpled suit and frowned, suddenly feeling very out of place.

  More than one raised eyebrow and discerning look was sent my way.

  I passed my hand over the creases but it only made it worse; giving up in a huff I continued on and we reached my gate.

  “Just walk on through and someone shall meet you on the other side, Mr Blake,” she said with another infuriating smile.

  I nodded and walked on through, clutching my travel bag to my chest. This had to be wrong. There must have been a mix-up like you saw in all those terrible movies when two people with the same name somehow swap lives. I looked hastily over my shoulder for my doppelg?nger but found no one there.

  Don’t be stupid!

  Who would want to change lives with you?

  This is just a simple mistake made by head office, or worse, some sick prank Gregory has somehow managed to pull off. That’s all this is, I told myself, not believing one word of it.

  Finally exiting the tunnel gate I approached the ship cargo door and was met by a woman dressed in a white blouse with the Xcorp logo on it and a black pencil skirt. She had brunette locks pulled into a fashionable bun and dark red lips. She smiled my way as I approached.

  “Ah, Mr Blake, so glad you could make it today. If you’ll please follow me this way, I shall show you to your seat.”

  “Err, I think there’s been a mistake—” I began, but she didn’t wait to hear the rest of what I had to say, as she was already making her way inside the ship.

  I followed with a sigh and entered the ship through the cargo bay doors. An array of combat gear littered the floor. Everything from plasma guns, pistols and ammo to body armour sat in racks around the walls of the cargo bay. I noticed rucksacks lined in a corner, each one with different logos or symbol stitched on it. One was of a lion with an eyepatch and a crown, another was an octopus holding guns in each one of its limbs; there was even one with what appeared to be Little Red Riding Hood with an Uzi in each hand, riding a wolf.

  We made our way through the halls of the ship, our feet echoing on the polished metal, passing room after room. I wondered what was inside but the woman I followed kept up a brisk pace until we came to an opened door. I stepped through into a room twice the length of the entire first floor of my house.

  I shook my head slowly correcting myself. This wasn’t a room, this was an apartment.

  “This first room is what the brochures would call your relaxation area, but to you and me it’s your living room,” said the woman walking past me.

  Simple but elegant brown leather chairs matched the oak wood panelling that lined the floors, a holograph screen floated in the centre of the room with the Xcorp logo on it, a glass table with a miniature waterfall dominated the centre of the room.

  “Through here,” she said, walking over to a door on her left, “is your master bedroom—an en-suite, if you’re feeling too lazy to use the shower in your bathroom, which is down the hall.”

  I stood mouth agape while I took in the four-poster bed with silk sheets.

  “The door on your right is your office if you need to do any work, and I believe that’s it,” said the brunette, hands clasped in front of her.

  I took in my surroundings and remembered to close my mouth as I turned to face her. “What is all this?”

  “This is how the senior members of office travel, Mr Blake; normally all this would be for Mr Goodwin, but as you’re taking his place you get to enjoy some of the perks if only for a brief time.”

  “I…. thank you, I didn’t catch your name.”

  Her head jolted back in shock before the first genuine smile I had seen all day graced her lips. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” she asked, gesturing around the room.

  “No, why do you ask?”

  “It’s because you’re the first person to ask me my name; normally people like me are just part of the furniture.”

  I nodded my head as she walked away. She turned back towards me and I caught a glimpse of what appeared to be a fox-like tattoo on her right shoulder through the white blouse she wore. “My name’s Paige, Mr—”

  “You can call me Quinton,” I said, cutting her off, “and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Paige. What’s your tattoo of?” I asked, pointing to her shoulder.

  “It’s nothing,” she said hurriedly, covering her shoulder with her left hand before rushing out the way we came.

  Nice one, dickhead.

  The only genuine person who has shown you any sort of kindness and you chase them away. I swivelled on my heel and took in my surroundings, rubbing my hands with a smile. I walked towards the fridge and pulled it open to be greeted by bottles of Dom Perignon.

  Well, when in Rome.