Orphans on the Galactic Tunnel Network (EarthCent Auxiliaries Book 3) Read online

  Orphans

  On The Galactic Tunnel Network

  Book Three of EarthCent Auxiliaries

  Copyright 2021 by E. M. Foner

  One

  “Am I still alive?” John asked, letting the weight of his legs help swing him into the upright position on the examination table.

  “It’s hard to tell the difference with a species whose life processes are as primitive as your own,” the Farling doctor replied. He glanced at a holographic display and then glared at the patient through his multi-faceted eyes. “My examination shows that in the eight cycles since I resurrected your sorry corpse from the dead you’ve been doing your best to meet your maker.”

  “What do you mean? If I have a drink once a week for professional reasons, that’s a lot, and I’ve never been a smoker.”

  “EarthCent Intelligence should make all of its agents take the nutrition course that I helped Flower prepare for retirees on the independent living deck. Just because you’re still in your forties doesn’t mean you can eat whatever you want and the bill will never come due.”

  “He’s not that bad, Doc,” Ellen protested from her place just inside the entrance to the clinic where M793qK had insisted she remain during her partner’s examination. “I know we should buy more fresh fruits and vegetables, but John eats a balanced diet.”

  “Don’t even try to lie to me,” the alien rubbed out on his speaking legs. “When you walked through the scanners coming into the clinic I received a detailed breakdown of everything in your digestive tracts. Stop eating all of that canned food. You’ve got so much sodium chloride in your systems that it’s a wonder you haven’t turned into pickles.”

  “Maybe the salt is what’s keeping me alive,” John said, pulling on his boots. “I can still taste the franks and beans we had in the tunnel last night. The heavy tomato sauce holds them together in Zero-G.”

  “You’re alive today thanks to my efforts and I insist that you take better care of the gift. If you need a reminder, I saved the poison I extracted from your cells here somewhere.” The Farling began pulling open drawers under a counter crammed with medical equipment, taking out and discarding various prosthetics, implants, and artificial organs that would have made a robot blush. “Here,” he declared, holding up a tiny bottle full of blue fluid. “According to the Assassins Guild, it’s one hundred percent effective on Humans.”

  “Why did you keep it?” Ellen asked.

  “I’ve been meaning to write up my treatment for the Farling Journal of Veterinary Medicine. There’s a special section for funny mammal stories.”

  “If the real reason you invited me in for a physical was to insult me, just tell me what I owe you and we’ll be on our way,” John said.

  “One,” M793qK told him, holding up one of his upper limbs.

  “One cred?”

  “Just one, as in, you owe me one. Unless you don’t think being alive is such a big deal, in which case, you’re welcome to this,” the giant beetle concluded, shaking the small glass bottle for emphasis.

  “All right. I acknowledge that I owe you one,” John said, ignoring Ellen’s frantic waving and mouthing ‘No, no, no,’ behind the Farling’s back. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

  “As a matter of fact, there is something,” M793qK rubbed out on his speaking legs without missing a beat. “I need a package delivered.”

  “Our next stop is Earth, and then we’re taking our first vacation together,” Ellen said. “We’ve both been working continuously since my two-man trader got fire-bombed and I moved back onto John’s ship.”

  “Perfect. You can hop in the tunnel at Earth and stop by Market Orbital as the first leg of your vacation.”

  “Market Orbital? Is that in Grenouthian space?”

  “I think he means the one at Farling Seventy, the main terminus for their pharmaceutical exports,” John said.

  “Ugh. What would we do there?” Ellen asked.

  “Farling Seventy is one of the few worlds under the Hierarchy that allows alien visitors without special vetting,” M793qK told them. “If you visit the surface you could get an article out of it for the Galactic Free Press.”

  “You mean if I was working, as opposed to being on vacation,” Ellen said between clenched teeth.

  “Just hand over the package and I’ll see that it gets delivered,” John promised the Farling.

  “Come back before you leave and I’ll have it ready,” the doctor said. “And to be perfectly clear that we understand each other, you have to deliver the package in person. None of this knew-a-guy-who-knew-a-gal-going-there foolishness that traders are so fond of.”

  “You take all the fun out of everything,” Ellen grumbled.

  “And bring Semmi along when you come back for the package,” M793qK added. “I rarely get a chance to monitor the growth of a Tyrellian gryphon, and unlike Humans, their biology is both complex and fascinating.”

  “You might have warned us that she’s telepathic,” John said. “I wasted months learning to sign in Huktra battle language for nothing.”

  “Weren’t you a mercenary before becoming a trader and going to work for EarthCent Intelligence? Maybe you’ll return to playing soldier and get a job with the Huktra, though where Humans find time for so many career swaps in such short lifespans is beyond me.”

  “Come on,” Ellen said, pulling John to his feet. “We’re meeting with Woojin and Lynx at that alien café Georgia told me about.”

  “Remind the captain that he’s on a diet,” M793qK called after them. “And tell Lynx that Em is due for her semi-annual eye test.”

  The med bay was located close to a lift tube by design, and as soon as they entered the capsule, Ellen requested, “Blue Tea Café.”

  “On your way to see my captain and third officer?” Flower injected herself into the conversation by way of the overhead speaker grille as the capsule began to move. “Anything I need to know about?”

  “Why ask?” Ellen retorted. “You’re just going to listen in anyway.”

  “But maybe I could save you some time,” said the Dollnick AI who was the brains of the colony ship. “I am a principal party in the EarthCent Intelligence agreement for hosting alien spies on board, you know. The money their agencies pay for the privilege helps offset my operational costs while I do my best for humanity.”

  “And by extension, yourself.”

  “The universe helps those who help themselves. As it happens, the captain has an assignment to pass on to John.”

  “But we’re going on vacation,” Ellen practically wailed.

  “It’s a vacation assignment. He also has good news.”

  “Then don’t spoil it for us,” John said. “A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that adding a spoonful of sugar to every unpleasant experience is one of the reasons your lifespans are so limited?” Flower inquired sweetly.

  “We emphasize quality over quantity,” Ellen retorted as the capsule doors slid open. “Uh, this isn’t the food court. Which way to the Blue Tea Café?”

  “Left. Locating high-end eateries on this corridor is the latest fashion with restaurateurs on board.”

  “These places all look pretty expensive,” John muttered to Ellen as they walked past thematically decorated cafés and pubs packed with diners. “The food court was always good enough for me.”

  “We’re on vacation, almost,” she reminded him. “And don’t you dare let the captain pay. It’s on us.”

  A uniformed woman in her mid-forti
es stood up and waved as they entered the Frunge-tribute café. Lynx and Woojin had chosen a table in a little alcove where they would have some privacy, and the captain’s three-cornered hat was hanging from a convenient wall hook.

  “Don’t even think about addressing us by our ranks during lunch hour,” Woojin opened the conversation. “I’ve been waiting to hear about Earth Two straight from the horse’s mouth. What we saw from orbit when we dropped you off was beautiful.”

  “And I want the details of your trip back to the tunnel network,” Lynx added. “I really didn’t feel right about abandoning you hundreds of light-years from anywhere.”

  “We got a ride to Echo Station on a container carrier, but they weren’t set up for guests, so we spent all three days in hyperspace on our ship,” Ellen said. “The small continent where the Dollnicks met us was beautiful, but the rest of the planet is a work in progress. I suppose you know that Semmi spotted an Alt group looking the place over.”

  “Yes,” Lynx said. “We aren’t entirely in the loop, but even though you obtained the first right of refusal for EarthCent, it’s pretty clear that if the Alts are serious, the Container Prince will just name a price all of humanity couldn’t afford. But if we can find enough experienced workers willing to move there to help fix up the larger continents he may make us a deal.”

  “Terraforming is way above my pay scale,” Woojin said. “But apparently not yours, John.”

  “What do you mean by that?” John asked.

  “EarthCent approved your keeping the twenty thousand cred commission that Myort paid you for delivering that abandoned Huktra surveillance equipment to the Grenouthian preserve on Earth. And it turns out that a lot of the over-the-air music broadcast in the 1920’s and 30’s doesn’t exist anywhere else, so alien spying ended up preserving an important part of human heritage. The bunnies are planning a whole new theme park around it.”

  “I wondered why Grenouthians would pay so much, but now it sounds like they got the bargain of the century. Myort must be biting his tail in frustration.”

  “The equipment and recordings you sold didn’t actually belong to Myort, you know,” Lynx said. “If the sale had been public, the price might have been a hundred times higher, but then Huktra Intelligence would have demanded the money. I suspect Myort calibrated the amount for the most he could get away with. If your end was ten percent, he flew off with enough to buy a new ship.”

  “So that’s the good news Flower was talking about,” Ellen said happily. “Now we can really splash out on a vacation.”

  “Have you ever thought about spending some time away from the hustle and bustle of modern civilization?” Woojin asked.

  “Why did I just hear the distinct sound of the other shoe dropping?”

  “It’s not that bad,” the captain said. “EarthCent Intelligence has assigned John to look into the possible exploitation of minors and other vulnerable populations in the tech-ban communities that are becoming so popular. When a group restricts access to teacher bots and tabs, it can be difficult for individuals to communicate with the outside world—well, the outside galaxy.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a bad assignment,” John said. “We were talking about camping out anyway.”

  “You were talking about camping out,” Ellen said. “I was talking about going to a Vergallian spa.”

  “What can I get you?” asked a perky young waitress whose green-dyed hair was woven through an elaborate trellis in imitation of a Frunge maiden.

  “We’ll both have a White Lightning and the pastry of the day,” Lynx said, pointing her index finger back and forth between her own chest and her husband’s.

  “Georgia told me to get the pastry of the day as well, but I think I’ll stick with blue tea to drink,” Ellen said. “You know I can’t have alcohol.”

  “There’s no alcohol in a White Lightning, ma’am,” the waitress informed her. “It’s the Frunge version of an egg cream.”

  “That sounds even worse. I’ll stick with the tea.”

  “Can I get coffee?” John asked.

  “We don’t brew it here, but there’s a jar of instant for our less adventurous guests,” the waitress said.

  “Instant is fine, and the pastry.”

  The waitress retreated through the maze of metal tables and heavy wrought iron chairs, all of which had been made by Razood, the Frunge spy who operated a smithy in Flower’s Colonial Jeevesburg attraction.

  “Oh, before I forget, M793qK says that your daughter is due for her six-month eye checkup,” Ellen told Lynx.

  “I’ll bet he wanted you to tell me to watch my weight as well,” the captain said, patting his belly fondly. “My response to him is always that I’ll let Flower manage my diet the day she lets me manage her ship.”

  “But you’re the captain.”

  “We share in the decision making process. Have you ever tried sharing with a twenty-thousand-year-old Dollnick AI?”

  “Speaking of sharing, how is Flower getting along with the Human Empire’s Cayl mentor?” John asked.

  “Like a house on fire,” Woojin grumbled. “They seem to agree with each other about everything. It makes me wonder if there really is one right answer for any problem and humans are just slower than the rest of the galaxy to figure it out.”

  “Samuel and Vivian also get along wonderfully with Krey,” Lynx said, referring to the Cayl emperor’s granddaughter by name. “Woojin and I met her years ago when we were exchange hostages during the emperor’s visit to Union Station. Krey is just out of their version of university.”

  “She’s not lonely on Flower without any other Cayl?” Ellen asked.

  “It’s normal for young Cayl females to devote themselves to academic pursuits until they marry. I don’t really understand their education system, but apparently, her appointment here fits in with their equivalent of a post-doctoral program for empire management. I suspect she’ll be publishing regular academic papers about the Human Empire’s progress.”

  “I, for one, enjoy sitting back and watching young people do all the work,” the captain said. “Krey approved of keeping the Human Empire’s headquarters on board, so now Samuel and Vivian are working with Flower to establish a school of government that can operate under the aegis of the Open University. They’re accepting applications from anybody who passes the EarthCent civil service tests.”

  “How about all of the ministers they already appointed?” Ellen asked. “Our friend Larry, who represents the Traders Guild in the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities, got stuck with the Ministry of Trade.”

  “The CoSHC committees that approved going ahead with the Human Empire played a dirty trick on their committee chairs and voted them all into acting minister roles before disbanding,” Lynx said with a laugh. “Larry is the only one I’m aware of who came here for a meeting with Samuel and Vivian. I suspect he’s come to regret it.”

  “Does that mean they put him to work?”

  “They asked the poor fellow what he thought would be a logical starting point for the Ministry of Trade and he suggested opening negotiations with the tunnel network species for trade deals.”

  “Don’t we already have trade deals in place through EarthCent?” John asked. “I thought the idea was to prepare for a seamless transition a century or so from now, where the EarthCent embassies could be rebranded for the Human Empire and carry on like nothing had changed.”

  “You’re forgetting that the Human Empire won’t be a Stryx protectorate,” Lynx said. “All of our current trade deals are predicated on Earth’s protectorate status, and most of them are just minimal implementations based on the tunnel network treaty.”

  “Ouch. Will the same thing be true for the deals EarthCent Intelligence has made with the other intelligence agencies, including our membership in the Inter-Species Police Operating Agency?”

  Woojin moved his arms back from the table to make room as the waitress reappeared with their drinks. “I don’t think it will have an
impact there. Spy agencies are known for ignoring the governments they serve, and there wouldn’t be any negotiating with ISPOA in any case—everybody has to agree to the same deal or it wouldn’t work.”

  “Ooh, if I knew you were going to talk about spy stuff, I would have sat you at the table with the microphone,” the waitress teased as she transferred the drinks from her tray. “I just put the teabag in the pot so you should let it steep,” she informed Ellen. “Is that a press badge?”

  “I’m on vacation,” Ellen said, slipping the lanyard off from around her neck and putting the Galactic Free Press badge in her purse. “Besides, my friend Georgia already did an interview with your owner. I think it’s going to run this weekend.”

  “That’s great. If it gets any busier in here we’ll have to raise our prices and my percentage will go up.”

  “The tips are included in the price?” John asked, remembering Ellen’s instructions to pick up the tab.

  “The Blue Tea Café is a semi-cooperative,” the waitress informed then.

  “Never heard of one.”

  “It’s a form of Frunge business that allows for profit sharing without transferring equity. I’ll be back with your pastries when they come out of the oven.”

  “So is Larry actually going to drag poor Georgia around the tunnel network trying to open negotiations with the alien governments?” Ellen asked the captain.

  “They’re on their way to Union Station as we speak,” Woojin confirmed. “Larry figured he’s going to need all of the bona fides he can present to get the aliens to take him seriously. He’s going to get CoSHC credentials and letters of introduction from Ambassador McAllister.”

  Lynx pointed at her ear to indicate an incoming ping, and a strange look came over her face. “Don’t panic,” she said out loud rather than subvocing. “If anybody complains, give them a coupon for the food court and we’ll settle up with the responsible party later.”

  “Problem at the amusement park?” Woojin asked his wife.

  “That was one of the volunteer greeters from the independent living cooperative,” she said, turning to John and Ellen. “It appears there’s a gryphon wandering around and snatching people’s hotdogs.”