Vacation on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 7) Read online

  “There you have your answer,” Joan said, bringing their car to a halt on a siding. A choir of at least a hundred women, all dressed in formal black robes, were belting out a remarkably complex vocal arrangement. “Turn off your implant if you’re using one,” their guide urged Lynx and Woojin. “Simultaneous translation doesn’t do justice to choral music, especially the more advanced Drazen compositions.”

  To describe the beauty of the singing as unearthly would be redundant, since the performance was taking place hundreds of light years from Earth and the composer was a member of an alien race. But even without the translation, the EarthCent agents felt invigorated by the music, which produced an overwhelming sense of contributing positively to civilization. Woojin even started forward, looking for some task he could do to aid in the community effort, but the designated stakeholder reached out and took hold of his arm.

  “You’d just be in the way,” she told him. “Don’t feel bad. The music has that effect on everybody with a heart.”

  “So the women sing and the men do all the work,” Lynx said, after she recovered from her initial wave of emotion.

  “Most of the women in our community come and sing for an hour each day. The men have a system for swapping jobs between mining and working in the sorting hall which makes little sense to us, but nothing men do makes much sense, does it?” she added, nudging Lynx. “We take our singing very seriously, and truth be told, the main reason I got this job was for my solo performances.”

  “You have singing contests instead of elections?”

  “It’s more like popular acclamation,” Joan said, looking a bit embarrassed. “One day, after I sang, ‘Beat Your Drills and Shovels into Axe Blades,’ the miners all stopped working and declared they wouldn’t start again until I was appointed the new designated stakeholder. I found out afterwards that Livia, my predecessor, had asked them to select somebody that week because the job was wearing on her.”

  “Do you have Drazens working here?” Woojin asked suddenly.

  “For what we can afford to pay?” Joan replied incredulously. “Why do you ask?”

  Woojin indicated with his head a group of men who were running scanners over a carload of ore that had just arrived through one of the small tunnels. “I kept my optical amplification implant after I retired from the mercenaries, and all of the men working in that group have six fingers.”

  Joan fished around in her belt pouch and brought out the strangest looking pair of gloves the visitors had ever seen. All of the fingers were cut off except for the thumb on one side. The designated stakeholder pulled on the gloves and demonstrated the grip of her prosthetic second thumbs by shaking hands with Woojin and Lynx in turn.

  “I think I mentioned that our men practice with prosthetic tentacles in order to play sports, but the gloves are essential to operate some Drazen equipment and musical instruments. We’re about the same size as the Drazens otherwise, and we don’t have the industrial base to redesign all of their tools for human use, like the Chiangans do with Dollnick technology,” she explained. “And really, the extra thumb comes in handy. Sometimes I put the gloves on and forget to take them off all day.”

  “Would it be possible for us to meet with any of the other community leaders?” Woojin asked. “And even though you already resolved the issue, I’d like to hear more about the HEEL organizer’s visit, if possible.”

  “We have a grand choral practice tonight. I can request that the section leaders stay after as long as you’re willing to pay for refreshments.”

  “As long as you can accept a programmable cred,” Woojin responded. “It’s on our EarthCent Intelligence expense account that way.”

  “There’s a register in the symphony hall café,” Joan replied. “You’re lucky, because there’s not another register in the human settlements. Our shops all work off the consortium credit lists or Drazen currency.”

  “If the chorus is all women, does that mean the men don’t take part in the community leadership?” Lynx asked.

  “Men grab most of the official management positions, but women take care of the family finances, and that extends to the consortium, which is like a family,” Joan replied. “I may be biased after growing up in a Two Mountains mining town, but humans everywhere could do worse than imitating the Drazens.”

  Eleven

  “It reminds me of Mac’s Bones when I first took over,” Joe declared, staring out over the towering piles of junk.

  “I’m not ready to camp out in a dump,” Kelly objected. “I’m still trying to figure out how to explain to our friends that we spent our first week of vacation in a sewer plant and the second week on a ghost deck.”

  “Who are you going to have to explain to?” Joe replied. “They’ve all come out to see us.”

  “And they were all hiding something from me,” Kelly said, changing the subject. “I can feel it in my bones. Either the broadcast of my interview with Srythlan triggered a war with the Verlocks, or Daniel has sold the embassy to the Dollnicks and blown the proceeds in a casino.”

  “You know that Libby asked them all not to talk about work. Even Bork and Czeros went along with it.” Joe paused and broke out laughing. “I’d give my left arm for a holo-recording of Czeros bawling out those ghosts. I guess living with his not-quite-deceased ancestors has used up his store of patience for talking with the gone but not departed.”

  “Can we look around now?” Samuel asked impatiently. “I promised Ailia to find her a queen’s treasure to replace the one she lost.”

  “Good luck with that in here,” Joe said skeptically, running his professional eye over the mountains of scrap. “Don’t climb on the heaps or try to pull anything out at the bottom because the whole thing could collapse on you. Stand back and ask Banger to do it—he’s indestructible. And if you find a passage to the other side, come back and tell us,” he added, as the children ran off.

  “You’ve really come to trust Banger, haven’t you?” Kelly commented. “I don’t remember you letting Dorothy run off with Metoo at that age.”

  “Metoo was the first six-year-old Stryx I knew and I didn’t trust Dorothy’s influence over him,” Joe replied, glancing after the girls, who had set out with Beowulf on their own accord. “Banger seems a lot more in control somehow.”

  “So why do you think Libby brought us to a giant junkyard?”

  “Nostalgia?” Joe suggested.

  “No, there’s a method to her madness, something we haven’t worked out yet,” Kelly insisted, looking around as if she expected to spot a telltale clue. “I hope there’s an open field at the campsites, something with nature, no matter how alien. I’d hate to spend the whole week with nothing but abandoned recycling for scenery.”

  “Then it’s amazing that you married me. Although now that I think about it, you didn’t see Mac’s Bones until after we tied the knot. Besides, maybe all of this stuff was nature for somebody. If your species was made out of metals and plastics, this might feel like a visit to the countryside.”

  “Ugh, I just had a thought,” Kelly said, coming to a halt and shivering against her will. “What if all this scrap is them? Maybe this whole deck is a giant graveyard.”

  “Naw,” Joe replied, peering at one of the piles. “It’s old, but a lot of it is bits and pieces of decommissioned ships and equipment. I even recognize some of the parts because the alien manufacturers don’t change proven designs until something really better comes along.”

  “Is that a robot arm?” Kelly said, coming up and taking her husband’s elbow as she pointed.

  “Eight fingers,” Joe observed. “Either they didn’t make them in their own likeness, or it’s a species we never came across. Maybe I’ll call back Banger and ask him.”

  “Don’t bother. He’ll only say that Libby would prefer he doesn’t tell us. I’m beginning to wonder if we’re the only family in the galaxy on a vacation arranged by an omniscient librarian who refuses to answer questions. Hey, it looks like the kids have found so
mething.”

  “Over here, Daddy! I think the pile moved,” Dorothy called in an excited voice. Joe and Kelly jogged over to where Mist and Dorothy were standing very close together. Beowulf pawed tentatively at the edges of a large pile of odd robotic skeletons.

  “What is it, boy?” Joe asked the dog. Beowulf turned and shook his giant head, obviously puzzled. It was a familiar scent, but differentiating between metal alloys by smell in the middle of a scrap yard was beyond even the Huravian hound’s ability.

  “I told you it’s a graveyard,” Kelly said mournfully. “All we need now are AI ghosts.”

  The whole heap of scrap suddenly shifted a few inches and everybody jumped.

  “Banger! Keep the kids at a safe distance,” Joe called, pulling Mist and Dorothy away from the pile. Beowulf continued sniffing at the edges, jerking away at the slightest movement, only to return.

  The side of the pile began to bulge out as randomly interlocked pieces of scrap shifted, and in some cases fell away to clatter on the deck. Joe continued to hold back the family, but Beowulf remained undaunted. He even dashed in and pulled off a piece with a massive paw in an attempt to unearth whatever it was quicker.

  Slowly, like a mythical swamp creature emerging from the shallows all covered with plants and vines, a large robotic form forced its way out of the pile. It shed smaller bits of junk like water, and picked off the larger pieces and cables with its hands.

  Dorothy and Mist pointed and shrieked, but Beowulf just cocked his head, and Banger came up and hovered over him. When the large robot, bigger than an alpha-Dollnick, finally stood clear of the pile, its chest began to crack open. The girls screamed again, this time with Samuel and Ailia joining in.

  “Metoo!” Dorothy exclaimed, as her Stryx friend floated out of the cavity in the robot’s chest. “What are you doing in there?”

  “Jeeves tricked me,” the teenage Stryx replied. “Farth finally said I was caught up enough on my multiverse studies to come visit you on vacation, and Jeeves invited himself along. He said you’d all be pleased if I could demonstrate how one of these old exoskeleton units work, but once I got inside, he pushed a whole mound of scrap on top of me and told me to count to infinity or he’d turn the whole mess into atom soup. Do you know how hard it is to get atom soup off your casing?”

  “How long ago was that?” Joe asked, looking around cautiously. He wouldn’t put it past Jeeves to be hiding somewhere, waiting to push a stack of scrap onto Banger.

  “Twenty minutes and eighteen seconds, give or take some smaller units,” Metoo replied. “That’s how long it usually takes me to count to infinity. How long does it take you?”

  “We can’t count to infinity, silly,” Dorothy retorted, regaining her composure. “It’s not possible.”

  “Sure it is,” Metoo replied. “You just have to go so fast that you start gaining on it, and before you know it, infinity gets left behind. It wouldn’t be possible to create singularities otherwise.”

  “It’s great to see you, Metoo,” Kelly said, hoping to cut the math lesson off as quickly as possible. The young Stryx was always happy to explain things to his human friends, but Kelly had long since learned that the explanations made her head ache while leaving her none the wiser. “Is Jeeves still around, or did he run away?”

  “Who questions the great and powerful Jeeves?” boomed a bass voice, followed by the loud clank-clank of robotic steps on a metallic deck. Another ambulatory exoskeleton marched into view from between two mounds of scrap, this one dragging a whole line of exoskeletons behind it on a cable, like a string of freshly caught fish. The last of the tethered mechanical nightmares had four limbs and a tail.

  “Does Libby know you’re here?” Kelly asked suspiciously. She fought the urge to subvoc her librarian friend.

  “She asked me to come and help,” the mischievous Stryx replied. “I already told Paul about it, and he’ll be coming by later to try one on.”

  “Try on? You mean you expect us to get inside those things?” Kelly asked.

  “Cool,” Samuel said. “Can I have the big one?”

  “Are you going to explain what they are, Metoo?” Dorothy asked, catching her brother as he dashed forward.

  “I guess it’s alright since the owners aren’t left to explain and Libby isn’t telling me to stop,” Metoo replied. “The biologicals who lived in these things have been gone a long time, but Libby asked Jeeves to put a bunch of exoskeletons back into working order.”

  “What happened to the previous owners?” Kelly asked. “Did they move on to better technology, or figure out how to free their minds from their bodies like the ghosts?”

  “No, they just sort of atrophied, and eventually they stopped having children,” Metoo explained. “Libby made Jeeves take all the life support stuff out of the exoskeletons, since they used to directly inject nutrition, handle waste and all of the vital functions. They even developed exoskeletons that could be expanded over time, so you could start a baby in a little one.”

  “Gross!” Mist said. “Who would do that to a baby?”

  “The biologicals who created the exoskeletons,” Metoo replied, taking the question literally.

  “Would it make me strong so I could get revenge for my family?” Ailia asked.

  Everybody fell silent for a moment. Then Jeeves said, “Step right up, young lady, and you’ll find out. Everything is one hundred percent safe and approved for audiences of all ages. I even washed them out.”

  Samuel ran forward towards the biggest exoskeleton, but Jeeves intercepted him. “They’re sized for the humanoid,” the Stryx told him. “You’ll control them by moving your limbs like normal, but it won’t work if your arms and legs aren’t long enough to reach the joints.”

  “Let me go first so they see how it works,” Joe said, walking over to the largest exoskeleton, which Samuel was reluctant to abandon. “You just dragged them around on the floor like that? Are you sure they aren’t damaged?”

  “The mechanisms are practically indestructible, as you can see,” Jeeves said, reaching down and triggering the chest cavity of the large exoskeleton to open. “Think of them as suits, like suits of armor, but with power assist and a few other enhancements.”

  Joe let his backpack slide to the floor, and then he half climbed, half squirmed, into the exoskeleton. It reminded him of putting on an armored spacesuit, except the head was already attached. As soon as he was in, Jeeves flipped the chest panels shut and the suit powered up. From lying on his back, Joe rose to his feet without pushing off from the floor with his arms, moving like an expert limbo dancer who had just gone under the pole.

  “Wow. I feel like I could wade right through these piles of junk,” Joe said. “One of these suits would have been really handy back when we were still in the recycling business.”

  “I want to try now,” Samuel pleaded, tugging on the leg of the suit Jeeves occupied. “Where’s my robot suit?”

  “Here you go,” Jeeves replied, lifting the boy gently and depositing him in a small suit. As soon as the chest panels swung closed, Samuel was off and running.

  “This is great!” he said. “Can I wear this to school?”

  “The suits have to stay on this deck,” Metoo told them. “And don’t start punching the bulkheads or the spokes. That’s the only thing that might damage them.”

  Ailia took possession of the other small exoskeleton suit, and then Dorothy and Mist clambered into the mid-sized models. Kelly hung back with Beowulf and Banger, forming a tripartite axis of skepticism.

  “Come on, boy,” Joe called, unhooking the four legged exoskeleton from the tow line and standing it upright so the giant dog could see it was intended for him. “Don’t you want to be able to run fast and jump high?”

  Beowulf crouched a little and then leapt into the air, high over their heads. Having misinterpreted the purpose of the exoskeleton Joe was displaying, he wanted to prove that he couldn’t be replaced by some alien robot dog, but he overdid the jump. On a p
lanet with gravity it wouldn’t have mattered, but on a spinning space station where the only weight came from angular acceleration, jumping so high on a random vector was a miscalculation. He would have slammed sideways into a pile of jagged junk if Jeeves hadn’t popped into the gap and caught the giant dog with a manipulator field, gently lowering him back to the floor.

  “I think Beowulf and I will pass on the mechanical bodies,” Kelly said. “He doesn’t need to jump any higher and I don’t need to jump at all.”

  “But how are we going to get over all of this junk to the campsite?” Joe asked. “I don’t see any passages, so I’m guessing we’re supposed to put these things on and just wade through or climb over. Jeeves?”

  “That was Libby’s original idea,” the Stryx said. “But I anticipated that one or more of you would balk at being shut up in a mobile sarcophagus, so I prepared another transportation option.”

  “You did?” Kelly asked. “As in, your idea, not Libby’s? Maybe I’ll take a look at the suit.”

  Beowulf whined and gave her a look that said, “Will you really throw your loyal dog off the troika to the wolves?” Kelly was forced to relent.

  “Alright, Jeeves. How are you going to get the dog and I out of this metal wasteland?”

  “Follow me,” Jeeves said. He led them back in the direction from which he had first appeared. “Now just climb the stairs to the top and I’ll float along-side.”

  “What stairs?” Kelly asked, surveying the mountain of junk.

  Beowulf, having had his fill of leaping for the day, tentatively approached a horizontal metal member that struck him as unnaturally placed in the random pile of scrap. He put a paw on it to test the stability.