Family Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 12) Page 2

  “Maybe a correspondent from the Children’s News Network would make a good impression,” Kelly ventured. “Could you suggest any candidates, Stephen? I know they come around your office all of the time.”

  “I’ll ask for a couple who can spend that much time away from their families and put them on the next ship to Union Station,” the president replied. “And you might want to bring some samples of Earth exports while you’re at it. Maybe the new species won’t be able to use anything, but it shows goodwill.”

  “I don’t want to be a party pooper, but don’t forget that they have developed their own faster-than-light technology,” Ambassador Enoksen said. “They may not be as advanced as the species we’re used to dealing with on the tunnel network, but they must be way ahead of us on most things.”

  “I hope for your sake they breathe an oxygen mix,” Ambassador Zerakova pointed out. “I spent a few weeks in an encounter suit once and I wouldn’t want to repeat the experience.”

  “The Stryx informed me that humans will be able to breathe the atmosphere without any filtering, and even better, the native foods can be eaten, though caution is advised,” the president added.

  “Seriously? Since when can we eat anybody else’s food?” Kelly couldn’t help asking.

  “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Ambassador Fu advised her. “Enjoy your trip, and we look forward to hearing your report when you return.”

  Two

  “…and so we’ll be leaving as soon as Kevin lays in a stock of trade goods.”

  “Congratulations!” Flazint practically shouted, her face lighting up with joy for her friend. “It’s awfully short notice for a wedding, but you can count on me to do anything you need to help. In Frunge families, the mother handles all of the preparations, but I know you guys aren’t that traditional, and your mom is probably busy with her embassy and the new species and all.”

  “I don’t think Dorothy mentioned marriage,” Affie said cautiously. She took a sip from her fluorescent purple drink and braced herself for Flazint’s reaction, which was quick to arrive.

  “What?” the Frunge girl spluttered, her hair vines literally standing on end. “You’re setting off on a trading voyage with a strange male and nobody but an underage dog for a chaperone?”

  “Could I get another?” Dorothy asked the bartender. She had expected Flazint to be scandalized, but hearing it out loud still made her feel funny, especially after she had rejected as hopelessly bourgeoisie Kevin’s suggestion that they get married before leaving. “He’s been practically living in Mac’s Bones for the last year and a half, so he’s hardly a strange man. And Alexander is very mature for a two-year-old Cayl hound.”

  “It’s not like they’re just running off on a lark,” Affie added. She paused for a moment to shake her head in polite rejection at a man sitting a few seats away who had been staring at her since the three fashion designers had come into the bar. “You know that Humans don’t have as much time to waste on courting formalities as other species. Didn’t you say that your mom and dad got married on their first date, Dorothy?”

  “Exactly,” the girl replied, taking a sip from her drink to fortify herself for her Frunge friend’s inevitable objection.

  “But they did get married,” Flazint pointed out immediately. She was tempted to recite the long list of warnings about casual liaisons that had been drummed into her since childhood, but after correctly reading the nervousness in her friend’s face, she relented. “Just let me see the contract,” the Frunge girl said with a sigh. “At least I can make sure we won’t have a repeat of the David incident.”

  Dorothy turned red and looked down at her drink, mumbling something about trust and mutual respect. Even Affie, who was the most bohemian of the three friends, was a little taken aback by the human’s response. Before the Vergallian could put her objection into words, Flazint slammed her fist down on the bar, drawing looks from the patrons and staff alike.

  “You are NOT going off in a spaceship with an unrelated man without at least a companionship contract!”

  Dorothy had never seen her Frunge friend so angry and she felt her willpower failing, but she managed to mutter, “I’ll do what I want.”

  “Look at me,” Flazint demanded, taking Dorothy’s face between her hands. “You’re my friend, and I’m not going to let you destroy your life out of sheer obstinacy. I’ll pay for the lawyer, all you have to do is sign it. Affie,” she continued, turning to the Vergallian girl. “You go get Kevin and meet us at Hazint’s legal shop. It’s in the Frunge mercantile exchange corridor. Dorothy, you’re coming with me.”

  “I just got this drink,” the girl protested weakly, but Flazint now had an iron grip on Dorothy’s wrist and dragged her out of the bar, much to the amusement of those who had been eavesdropping on the conversation. Affie polished off her purple concoction, paid the bartender, and headed for Mac’s Bones to collect Kevin.

  “I’ve never been so embarrassed,” Dorothy grumbled after the pair entered the lift tube and her friend finally released her. She rubbed her wrist where Flazint’s fingers had left white marks, and tried to think up a way out of the awkward situation that wouldn’t offend the Frunge girl, but nothing came to mind.

  “Don’t be a baby,” Flazint chided her. “The point of a companionship contract isn’t to force you to do something you don’t want to. If you can’t come up with a few basic ground rules for conducting your relationship, it’s clear you aren’t ready to go running off together.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of spontaneity?”

  “Not after a year and a half of shacking up,” Flazint said, and it was the ambassador’s daughter’s turn to be shocked.

  “You knew that we, uh…?

  “I’m not an idiot, unlike some Human girls who I know. And one day I’m going to dance at your marriage party, whether you like it or not.”

  “Thanks, I guess,” Dorothy said, touched by her friend’s concern.

  The capsule door slid open, and the two young women emerged on the Frunge commercial deck. Dorothy had to squint a little against the bright lighting as her pupils contracted to dots, and she felt the warmth of the amped-up infrared on her skin. Flazint led her past a number of expensive looking offices with frosted glass windows sporting alien calligraphy, and then stopped for a moment in front of an open set of scrollwork gates.

  “Our honor court,” the Frunge girl explained. “It’s supposed to be built from hand-hewn stone, but that would just mean a façade on a space station, and what’s the point of pretending? If either of you violates the terms of the contract, this is where the other party can come for justice.”

  “How can a Frunge court have jurisdiction over non-Frunge?” Dorothy asked. Humans living on the station generally assumed that the minimalistic rules laid out by the Stryx were the only law that counted, but she also knew that the various trading guilds and civic organizations were allowed to enforce their own rules on their own decks.

  “What does the species have to do with jurisdiction?” Flazint replied. “If I went to your Earth and started committing crimes, would I get off free because I’m Frunge?”

  “Of course not, but that’s because you’d be in our jurisdiction.”

  “I suppose you could spend the rest of your life avoiding Frunge areas to get out of the contract, but we do have extradition treaties with most of the tunnel network species. We might even have one with Earth.”

  “Come on. What species would extradite somebody over violating a companionship contract? I mean, I’ll sign it if it means that much to you, but I’m sure it’s all stuff that Kevin and I already agree on.”

  “We’ll see,” Flazint said ominously. She guided Dorothy through another set of gates, nearly as impressive as those framing the courthouse doors. Behind the reception counter there was a work area where dozens of craftsmen were tending large industrial machines amidst a maze of tubing. The periphery of the office was lined with privacy booths, reminding Dorothy
of a Vergallian fitting room. “This is Hazint’s,” the Frunge girl told Dorothy proudly.

  “Are you here to register a domestic help contract?” the receptionist asked. “We have a boilerplate form for Human indentures that serves most situations without modification.”

  “I’m not a domestic,” Dorothy protested. “We’re here for a companionship contract.”

  The receptionist blanched and reached for the security button on her desk, but Flazint hastened to reassure her.

  “There’s another Human coming. They haven’t developed companionship contracts yet and she’s going off on a long trip with her boyfriend, so I thought…”

  “I see,” the receptionist interrupted, pulling her hand back from the alarm button, but not looking very pleased about the whole business. “You’ll need to speak with Rzard, our expert in primitive cultures. Please have a seat in the waiting area and I’ll notify him.”

  “She called me ‘primitive,’” Dorothy complained. Flazint just shook her head, and the two young women settled down on a surprisingly comfortable bench constructed from some sort of springy metal mesh. “And I’m not going to wait all day for this, either.”

  “We just got here,” Flazint soothed her. “Affie and Kevin haven’t arrived yet, and I’m sure that if Rzard was otherwise engaged, the receptionist would have told us to make an appointment. Look, I’ll bet that’s him coming around the side of the work area now.”

  The front door of Hazint’s swished open, and Affie entered with a puzzled-looking Kevin, who was wearing his standard jeans and a T-shirt.

  “What’s this all about, Dorothy?” he asked. “Your friend just said that I needed to come and sign something before you could leave the station.”

  “It seems that Flazint was upset by the idea of us traveling together without a, uh, more formal arrangement.”

  “Good for you,” Kevin told the Frunge girl. “I’ve been trying to get her…”

  “Welcome to Hazint’s,” a tired looking Frunge man interrupted. “I am Rzard, and I’ll be your attorney of record. My billing on your case began the moment I left my office, so I recommend that you save the small talk for later. Shall we?”

  Rzard turned abruptly and headed for the nearest privacy booth with an open door, the four young people trailing after him. As soon as they all entered, the attorney activated a privacy field, the door closed, and absolute silence prevailed. He then turned and looked expectantly at Flazint for an explanation. “Well?”

  “My friend and co-worker, Dorothy McAllister, is leaving soon on a trading voyage with Kevin Crick.” The Frunge girl didn’t bother indicating the identified parties to the attorney as it would have insulted his intelligence.

  “Why four names for just two people?” Rzard inquired.

  “That’s just the way they are,” Affie interjected. “Some of them have three names, or even four.”

  “I see. So you wish to register a companionship contract?” he asked, again addressing himself to Flazint.

  “Yes. I think the standard terms will be fine, except for the pollination and seedling clauses, of course.”

  “Of course.” The attorney made some quick notes on a tab and then inquired without looking up, “Will you be establishing a schedule for intimate relations?”

  “Huh?” Kevin grunted.

  Dorothy cast an angry look at Flazint, who chose to studiously examine a seam between panels at the top of the privacy booth rather than meet her friend’s eyes.

  “Have I offended you?” Rzard asked. “My understanding is that Humans are continually fertile from an early age, and often engage in pre-marital relations.”

  “Not on a schedule,” Dorothy managed to choke out.

  “Will there be a number of offspring specified?” the attorney continued, unperturbed.

  “We won’t be gone that long,” Kevin said, sounding confused. “It’s just a shakedown cruise with a little vacation—maybe a month.”

  “I see,” Rzard repeated. “So let’s just run through the standard terms for a companionship, omitting the clauses specific to Frunge biology. By signing this agreement, you are committing to an exclusive relationship for the term of…”

  Dorothy and Kevin exchanged looks, but Flazint spoke up, saying, “Six cycles.”

  “Indeed,” Rzard responded, making a note and continuing. “For a period of, er, six cycles, Dorothy McAllister agrees to ensure that Kevin Crick is fed two meals per waking period…”

  “Three,” Kevin interrupted.

  “Three meals per waking period, and provided with such support as required in his profession. She further—no, that’s not relevant here, er, no—six cycles, you say? It’s hardly worth the effort.”

  Flazint glared at the attorney, who shrugged and continued. “Kevin Crick agrees to share equally with Dorothy McAllister any trading profits above overhead as defined in Frunge commercial code, provide a suitable budget for clothing and personal items, and—I don’t believe that the terms involving ancestral offerings will apply either.”

  “Works for me,” Kevin said. “Can I still do some of the cooking, though? I’ve got a lot more experience at it than Dorothy, especially in Zero-G.”

  “You cook?” the Frunge attorney asked in astonishment.

  “It was either that or starve.”

  “I’m not sure which would be preferable,” Rzard remarked, as if to himself. “Now, what assets are each of you bringing on this trip?”

  “The ship and the trade goods are all Kevin’s,” Dorothy replied. “I’m bringing some samples from SBJ Fashions, but that’s just in case we stumble into an opportunity.”

  “Actually, Shaina and Brinda are providing half of our cargo on consignment,” Kevin told her. “I didn’t have enough cash left to really stock up, and it doesn’t make sense to fly around half empty.”

  “But I thought that part of trading was buying stuff,” Dorothy objected. “Where will we put it all?”

  “You have to sell to buy. Flying with empty space is the fastest way to go broke.”

  “Speaking of going broke, what gifts are you pledging to give the young lady?” the Frunge attorney inquired.

  “You mean…something new?” Kevin asked.

  “Do Humans have no culture of giving contract gifts?” Rzard cast an incredulous look at Flazint before ticking off on his fingers, “Jewelry, grow lights, precious metals, fine fabrics.”

  “Grow lights?” Kevin asked.

  “Humans,” Flazint reminded the attorney. “Their hair is dead as soon as it comes out.”

  “I see. No gifts then?”

  All three girls turned to look at Kevin, who shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I offered her an engagement ring, but she said it would interfere with the 3D modeling gloves she has to wear for work.”

  “So you take it off at work,” Affie cried, staring at Dorothy in frustration.

  “And will the young lady’s family be supplying any provisions for the couple to begin housekeeping?” the attorney continued.

  Now everybody shifted their attention to Dorothy, who said, “I could get a keg of beer from my dad, I guess.”

  “A keg of beer.” Rzard shook his head mournfully. “I take it the two of you will be traveling alone.”

  “Alexander is coming with us,” Kevin said. “He’s used to sleeping on my bed.”

  The Frunge attorney gaped at the young man. “You wish to introduce a third party to this agreement? That won’t do at all.”

  “Alexander is a Cayl hound,” Flazint hastened to explain. “But he’s not of age to be counted as a chaperone.”

  “One Cayl hound, underage,” Rzard noted. “And who will be caring for said dog?”

  “Oh, he takes care of himself, except for the opposable thumb stuff, like opening cans,” Kevin replied.

  “Of course,” the attorney muttered. “Is the hound community property?”

  “He adopted Kevin, but I do most of the petting,” Dorothy said.

  Rz
ard made some more notes on his pad, and then shrugged helplessly at Flazint. “Is there anything you want to add?”

  “If by the expiration of this contract the parties fail to enter into marriage, Dorothy McAllister pledges to subscribe to the Eemas dating service and marry whoever the station librarian picks out for her.”

  “I’m not agreeing to that!” Dorothy exclaimed.

  “We could just get married now,” Kevin offered again.

  “I want a real wedding reception, like the ball that Dring put on for my mom, but without all the diplomats.”

  “How much are you charging for time?” Affie asked Rzard, cutting short the argument.

  The attorney pinched the side of his tab and held it up so that his clients could see the rapidly cycling numbers.

  “Is that in Stryx creds?” Dorothy asked in a hushed tone.

  The attorney nodded.

  “Just print what you’ve got and we’ll sign it,” Kevin said.

  Flazint broke into a wide grin and nodded at Rzard, who brought up a new screen with two blank boxes and handed Kevin a stylus.

  “You sign in the top box. It’s a Thark-bonded stylus and the agreement goes on record with them.”

  Kevin signed without hesitation, aware of the rapidly mounting cost.

  “And you,” Rzard said, accepting the stylus back from the young man and passing it to Dorothy. The girl’s hand seemed to move of its own accord as she signed in the designated box. “And now the witnesses,” the attorney continued, bringing up a new screen and pushing the tab and stylus to Flazint, who signed and passed them along to Affie.

  “That’s everything, then,” Rzard declared. “Congratulations on your companionship, the contract will be waiting for you at the counter after you pay. And thank you for choosing Hazint’s,” he added in Flazint’s direction. He quickly ushered them out of the booth and headed back towards his office.

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Affie told her friend. She threw in a comforting rub between Dorothy’s shoulder blades, as the girl seemed a little unsteady on her feet.