Last Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 16) Read online

  “The next item on the agenda is the presence of a senior Vergallian intelligence operative on Union Station,” Aabina announced. “The ambassador tasked me to look into whether or not she may have been the source of the rumor about Gryph selling Union Station, possibly as a ploy to derail the CoSHC convention. I haven’t been successful in running the source to ground, though forensic analysis has me convinced that the rumor did originate on Union Station. But the timeline doesn’t work out for Ajalah to be fingered as the culprit.”

  “We’ve been keeping a close eye on the Vergallians since she arrived,” Herl said. “My assistant participated in watching their embassy’s booth at the trade show to see if they were recruiting undercover agents from the Human population. Vivian?”

  “I was forced to break off surveillance of the, uh, subject after he was warned by an alien operative,” she said, glancing across the table at the Verlock. “I didn’t realize that Wrylenth was working for our allies in EarthCent Intelligence until I trailed him back to their headquarters. I later learned that the Vergallian embassy employee manning the booth was approached by Ajalah while I was away. The subject’s meeting with the intelligence operative in question was interrupted by Baa, the Terragram mage who lives on Union Station and works for SBJ Fashions.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t make heads or tails of what you’re talking about,” the president said. “Is this something I’ll need to know for the negotiations?”

  “The matter was on the agenda before I was aware you would be attending,” Aabina told him apologetically. “Does anybody object if I move on to the next issue, and we can return to internal Vergallian politics later?”

  “Please,” Blythe said. “My sister shouldn’t be getting this for free in any case.”

  “The third item is the expected arrival of Flower in time for the last day of the CoSHC convention,” Aabina continued. “Many of the attendees have already visited the circuit ship when it stopped at their worlds, but Captain Woojin has requested that we announce the ship will be open for tours throughout its stay at Union Station.”

  “How do the people living on open worlds without space elevators get to visit the circuit ship?” Hildy asked.

  “Flower has been deploying her shuttles, which are capable of ferrying a thousand passengers at a time up and down from the surface,” Daniel said. “Apparently she’s able to earn a profit even at a modest ticket price because some families make the trip to the circuit ship just for the amusement park.”

  “Do you want me to announce the open house on Flower in the Union Station edition of the paper?” Chastity asked.

  “If you could,” the Vergallian ambassador’s daughter said. “There’s no limit to the number of visitors they’re willing to entertain, though anybody who fails to return home before the departure time is in for a long ride.”

  “I’d like to visit Flower again,” Hildy said. “We took the elevator up from Earth when they were preparing for their first trip, but it was pretty chaotic.”

  “I’ll be messaging all CoSHC attendees with a schedule for her shuttles as soon as Flower arrives, and I’ve already begun contacting the various taxi services that serve Union Station’s near-space parking for larger ships to make them aware of the opportunity,” Aabina said. “The final agenda item is the Galactic Free Press coverage of the conference sessions.”

  “What about it?” Chastity asked.

  “We’d like to commission a conference proceedings book,” Daniel told her. “Some of the delegates record the sessions they attend, but there’s something to be said for preserving a written record for the ten billion people who couldn’t be here.”

  “I’m not sure you’re aware of how bulky it would be without editing.” The publisher of the Galactic Free Press pulled a tab out of her purse and tapped and swiped her way through a number of menus. “You have eight tracks running simultaneously, with three sessions in the morning and four in the afternoon, plus evening events. We’re only halfway through the conference and the paper has already published transcripts totaling over a million words in our special coverage section. By the end of the week, including those extra events, you’ll be up to three million words easy.”

  “Is that a lot?”

  “Oliver Twist was less than two hundred thousand words,” Kelly volunteered. “I remember that from somewhere.”

  “How about War and Peace?”

  “Libby?” Kelly asked.

  “Less than six-hundred thousand words, though it seemed like more,” the Stryx station librarian opined.

  “How much would the paper charge for editing?” Daniel asked.

  “A lot,” Chastity replied.

  “I can help,” Wrylenth offered ponderously. “I read much quicker than I speak.”

  “Me too,” Aabina volunteered. “I like English.”

  “I’m interested in what you can learn about this Gryph rumor, if like you say, the Vergallians aren’t behind it,” the president said. “It seems strange to me that the advanced species would be so quick to accept such a ludicrous proposition.”

  “Rumor-mongering is practically a sport with the Dollnicks and Grenouthians,” the Drazen spy chief explained. “Apparently it goes back several million years to when the Stryx gave the Brupt an ultimatum to give up their military capabilities or leave the galaxy. Nobody believed the rumor until the Brupt actually left, by which time it was too late to collect any outstanding debts.”

  “What about all of the worlds they must have abandoned?” the president inquired.

  “I remember this from when Libby showed me a planet catalog when I was shopping for a new home for the Kasilians,” Kelly said. “The Brupt blew up one of their main worlds before leaving, and they booby-trapped the others with everything from orbital mines to metal-eating bacteria in the soil.”

  “But if the Stryx really did give the Brupt an ultimatum, it wasn’t a rumor, it was a fact,” Vivian pointed out.

  “Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” Chastity told her niece. “If Gryph does sell Union Station, or if Kelly does replace the president, those rumors will have become facts as well.”

  “It all happened long before we joined the tunnel network,” Herl said. “I’ve read a little about the history from the Dollnick perspective and my understanding is that the Stryx didn’t make a public announcement because they wanted to give the Brupt a chance to back down. Many warlike species have thin skin and will always react with force to protect their public image. Obviously, they rejected the offer in any case.”

  “So you’re saying that a single event from over a million years ago is still influencing the behavior of the advanced species today?” Kelly asked.

  “Rumors tend to come in waves with major changes on the tunnel network, and the timing for a new wave is about right, now that Humans have been members for a few generations. Take the rumor about you replacing the president. Keeping tabs on political movements and dynastic successions is one of the core missions for intelligence agencies, but due to Stryx involvement, the EarthCent process is completely opaque. It’s that total lack of information that often gives rise to rumors.”

  “But like you just said, we’ve been tunnel network members for a few generations already. Why now?”

  “I’m not sure how to put this exactly.” Herl scratched his head with his tentacle while composing his thoughts. “Until recently, none of the advanced species cared about what EarthCent was doing one way or another. It’s only since you’ve started growing your business footprint on the tunnel network that you’ve become worth talking about.”

  Eighteen

  “What time is it now?” Dorothy asked Judith.

  “Three minutes later than the last time you asked me,” the EarthCent intelligence trainer replied. “And I still don’t understand why you needed me when I don’t even get to fight anybody.”

  “Somebody has to be in charge, and I’m going to be on the other side of the table in case the Grenouthian ambassador has any q
uestions. All you have to do is read the script from your heads-up display and give the models their cues.”

  “And then they get to have all of the fun,” Judith complained. “Why didn’t you get Shaina or Brinda to do this part?”

  “You’re the best-qualified person to stay out of the way of the models while they’re dueling, and we have to keep management in reserve to close the deal if the president can get the bunnies to agree to the broad outlines. Do you hear that? They’re getting impatient.”

  Judith listened for a moment and realized that the soft thumping coming from two sides of the booth originated with the tightly packed Grenouthians tapping their furry feet on the deck. Then the thumb ring she wore on her left hand started to glow blue, and she turned slowly through three-hundred and sixty degrees, trying to locate the source.

  “What are you doing?” Dorothy demanded.

  “Somebody is jamming your booth. Blue indicates holographic suppression.”

  “Do you mean our competitors are trying to interfere with my demonstration?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” Judith replied, puzzling over the fact that the intensity of the glow didn’t vary with direction. Then she lowered and raised her hand, and the blue definitely brightened in the higher position. “What’s that on the ceiling?”

  “I can’t see much squinting up into the lights. Where are you pointing?”

  “Dead center over the booth. It looks like some sort of alien device. Have you let anybody else in here?”

  “It’s just a square of folding tables,” the ambassador’s daughter said. “Anybody could crawl under or hop—the bunny!”

  “What bunny?”

  “A Grenouthian came by a couple of days ago and asked permission to check the booth. He seemed to believe we were going to try to cheat him somehow, and I think that device might be the scanner he was using. He must have jumped up and stuck it on the ceiling when we all had our backs turned. Libby?”

  “Yes, Dorothy,” the station librarian replied over the girl’s implant.

  “There’s an alien device attached to the ceiling above our booth and we’re going to start as soon as the president and the Grenouthian ambassador arrive. Is there anything in your security footage?”

  “Yes. The Grenouthian you let into the booth the other day jumped up and placed a magnetized Noho unit on the ceiling when you weren’t looking.”

  “Noho?”

  “That’s what EarthCent Intelligence calls them. It’s a multifunction device that can be used to scan for holographic projectors and to disrupt holograms before they can form.”

  “Should I ping Jeeves to come and take it down?”

  “It won’t have any impact on your demonstration since you aren’t using holograms,” Libby replied. “The Grenouthian was no doubt worried that you would employ holographic trickery, so the presence of an active jammer can only lend credence to your presentation.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Dorothy turned back to Judith, who was studying the script on her heads-up display. “It’s just a Noho. Libby says it’s fine.”

  “I’ve heard of those, but they’re really expensive and EarthCent Intelligence doesn’t have room in the budget,” Judith said. “Some of the rich aliens carry them all the time on the station just to save themselves from being bothered by interactive holographic ads.”

  “Here comes my mom and the president, and that’s the Grenouthian ambassador with his posse. Libby is going to channel the audio from your subvoc pickup into the local public address system so you don’t have to shout. Stick to the script,” Dorothy added over her shoulder, as she crawled under one of the folding tables to get out of the booth.

  Judith sighed and moved over to the pair of tables that formed the interior barrier with the adjacent booth. One of the tables had been replaced by a shorter version to make an opening into a space where dozens of musical instruments were on display. The saleswomen from the Drazen open world had agreed to allow SBJ Fashions to use their booth for the duration of the show in return for a pair of dancing shoes and a tube dress. Marilla was waiting first in line, though she carried nothing more than a small purse.

  “Not sure I approve of all this magic business,” the Grenouthian ambassador said to the EarthCent president as he bellied up to a table on the reserved side of the booth. “Bad precedent, letting Terragram mages run around the station enchanting things.”

  “I understand that Baa works exclusively for SBJ Fashions,” the president replied smoothly. “She doesn’t enchant objects willy-nilly. It’s all done for money.”

  “Ah, that’s different, then. Is this your daughter, Ambassador McAllister?”

  “Dorothy,” the fashion designer spoke up before her mother could reply. “Thank you for coming to our demonstration. We can start whenever you’re ready.”

  The Grenouthian ambassador puffed out his chest and took his time staring down all of the other waiting bunnies to establish dominance. Then he said, “You may proceed.”

  Judith began reading from her script as soon as she received Dorothy’s signal. “Welcome to our demonstration on reimagining the possible. SBJ Fashions is the leading provider of haute couture bags-of-holding for the rapidly growing role-playing market under our Baa’s Bags brand, and we’ve identified a new opportunity in the area of custom noodle weapons with bespoke enchantments. We understand that important businessmen such as yourselves are unlikely to have the time to participate in LARPs, so we decided to bring the magic out into the real world to demonstrate it for you.”

  Marilla responded to the cue phrase by stalking out into the center of the square formed by the four pairs of long folding tables. She held up her unique six-feather bag pinched between her thumb and forefinger and turned slowly like a ring girl displaying the round-card at a cage fighting match. Then she reached in the purse and pulled out a long sword.

  “Big deal,” one of the Grenouthians commented immediately. “I’ve seen magicians swallow poleaxes.”

  “Could you assist?” the Horten girl asked Judith. The EarthCent intelligence trainer came over and held the small bag while Marilla plunged one of her arms in it up to the shoulder, eliciting a gasp from the audience. Then, with an obvious effort, she drew out a battle axe that couldn’t have possibly fit inside. Using both hands, she brought it over to the table in front of the Grenouthian ambassador. He took it from her and his eyes went wide at the heavy weight.

  “Folding space and reducing mass are the earmarks of Baa’s Bags in LARPing,” Judith read from her script, while Marilla stuffed the axe and her sword back into the little purse, which somehow made even more of an impression than pulling them out. “Baa’s Bags also preserve the contents if the player is killed in the game, but a mage’s true skill is measured by the enchantment of weapons, as our models will now demonstrate.”

  Marilla returned to the neighboring booth, and Samuel and Vivian came out, resplendent in their fashionable LARPing costumes. The two young people saluted each other with their swords.

  “The male model is the new hire at the Vergallian embassy,” the Grenouthian cultural attaché told his ambassador. “The female works for Drazen Intelligence. Something fishy is going on here.”

  “That’s my son and his girlfriend,” Kelly told them. “The Open University gave them co-op jobs with aliens.”

  “I knew that,” the cultural attaché said immediately, but the Grenouthian ambassador gave him a scowl.

  Judith stepped back into the corner of the booth to be out of the way. The young duelists circled each other for a minute, probing each other’s defenses with feints before Vivian sprang to the attack. After trading a series of lightning thrusts and parries, the girl pretended to stumble, then took prompt advantage of Samuel’s hesitation to slash his leg with the saber. The noodle weapon went soft the moment it made contact, and then re-formed as the two duelists separated.

  “So what,” one of the observers commented. “That’s what all noodle weapons do.”
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  Samuel retreated all the way to one corner of the booth while Vivian took the opposing corner. Then he brandished the sword and declared, “Winged Feet,” and leapt toward the girl.

  “Angel’s Breath,” Vivian cried in response as she jumped to meet his attack. They exchanged a flurry of strikes and counter-strikes as they floated past each other, hanging in the air like immersive actors suspended by invisible wires.

  A number of the Grenouthians whipped out hand-held devices and began scanning the booth and the models for signs of magnetic fields or other technological means to explain the levitation, but their displays came back blank.

  “Enchanted weapons can bestow on their wielders magical abilities,” Judith read, and the duelists leapt into the air again, trading blows as they passed each other like knights at a joust. “The magic is invoked by non-mages through the use of voice commands, as we just saw with Vivian and Samuel.”

  The bunnies exploded in a round of belly patting as the two models landed lightly on their feet. Once again, they saluted each other with their swords, and then exited into the musical instruments booth.

  “Pretty impressive, don’t you think?” the EarthCent president prompted the Grenouthian ambassador. “I understand that there’s a tremendous market opportunity for enchanted objects in role playing, but the prices demanded by your distributors for commodity noodle weapons are prohibitive.”

  “You overestimate my influence if you think I can say a few words and lower the pricing,” the ambassador replied disingenuously. “Of course, I would be happy to make a few inquiries if it would help Ambassador McAllister’s daughter and Associate Ambassador Cohan’s wife.”

  “You’ve seen right through us, Ambassador,” the president said, giving the Grenouthian cultural attaché a nod at the same time. “I’m sure that means you’re also aware of the pressure I’m under to provide more employment opportunities for my people, especially in the entertainment field.”