Last Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 16) Page 8

  “If you put it that way, I feel obligated to bring something,” the Dollnick ambassador chimed in.

  Kelly glimpsed Daniel and Aabina coming out of the associate ambassador’s office and decided it was time to get back on topic. “We can talk about the tag sale later. The primary purpose of this meeting is to give you all a heads-up about what will be happening at the upcoming CoSHC convention and to invite you to participate in the trade show.”

  The Fillinduck noisily pushed back his chair, rose, and left the conference room by way of the corridor exit without another word.

  “Who ate the food and didn’t stay for our presentation?” Daniel inquired.

  “The Fillinduck ambassador,” Kelly replied. “Apparently he was just here for the Gryph rumor.”

  “You wouldn’t believe this, but I just got a ping from the Dollnick who manages the Empire Convention Center. He offered me a gift certificate good for one free event in the Meteor Room at a future date in return for confirming our convention reservation.”

  “Did you try for cash back instead?” Crute inquired.

  “I passed it on to our embassy manager. We sponsor a mixer every month and it’s usually in the Meteor Room, so a gift certificate is as good as cash to us.”

  “Why is your daughter here?” the Chert ambassador asked Aainda. “If I knew it was ‘Bring your offspring to work day’ I could have saved what I’m paying the InstaSitter.”

  “The EarthCent ambassador and the Vergallian ambassador have exchanged children,” the Dollnick said. “Your intelligence people must be slipping.”

  “Aabina is working here and my son is working at the Vergallian embassy because that’s where the cooperative education program sent them,” Kelly explained, and then she attempted a smooth segue into the CoSHC presentation. “It’s a good example of how we can work together rather than against each other. Daniel?”

  “Thank you, Ambassador. Let me begin with a brief overview. The Conference of Sovereign Human Communities is an umbrella organization that was set up to facilitate trade among our people living in independent communities all around the tunnel network. Some of the most successful communities are found on open worlds administrated by the species represented here today, especially the Drazens, Frunge, and Dollnicks.”

  “Fyndal hosts a fine community,” the Verlock ambassador interjected.

  “Yes, Srythlan, and the human population there has joined CoSHC and will be presenting about their academy at our convention. Unfortunately, the temperature extremes and volcanic activity common to worlds favored by your species discourage many of our people from experiencing the famous Verlock hospitality. I believe Aabina has the numbers.”

  “CoSHC has three member communities on Verlock open worlds,” the Vergallian ambassador’s daughter said, without referring to her tab.

  “Thank you. Every year Union Station hosts a convention for CoSHC representatives to get together and discuss the challenges they face, in addition to signing trade agreements and coordinating activities. This year we’re opening the trade show to other species who wish to promote their goods and services to our growing market, and we’re willing to provide free booth space for any of you who wish to advertise your open worlds to humans.”

  “We’ve experimented with allowing your people who complete labor contracts to remain on some of our worlds,” the Horten ambassador commented. “I’m told that one of those communities took out a large loan from a local benevolence society and later defaulted.”

  “You’re talking about the agricultural settlement on Gump Four,” Aabina said. “According to a report we received from the CoSHC representative, the mayor ran up a large personal debt gambling on sports, and her Horten bookies arranged that loan from the benevolence society and then intercepted the money. Our legal aid people are pursuing the matter with the local authorities.”

  “Vergallian legal aid?” Ortha asked in disbelief.

  “CoSHC legal aid,” the Vergallian girl replied. “I’ve adjusted my pronoun usage in accordance with my employment.”

  “What benefit would we derive from opening worlds to Human settlements that we don’t already get through hiring contract workers?” the Grenouthian ambassador demanded. “Are you seeking a quid pro quo for our business activities on Earth? I’ve seen that contract and it makes no stipulations about equal access.”

  “Every CoSHC community represents economic activity that wouldn’t be there otherwise. On Drazen and Frunge open worlds, our people have rehabilitated housing stock and brought back to life abandoned mines and foundries that weren’t sufficiently profitable to continue operation with native employees. We also have numerous communities on Dollnick open worlds manufacturing custom goods under license for export to human markets.”

  “If the Dollnicks want to cut their own throats, that’s their business. I don’t see the Vergallians rushing to open their worlds to Humans, and you’re practically the same species. Why would we want to share our monopolies?”

  “First of all, I’ll remind you that the most popular show produced by Grenouthians on Union Station is ‘Let’s Make Friends,’ which is hosted by Aisha McAllister,” Aabina replied. “Second, Vergallians employ more of our mercenaries than all of the other species combined. Third—”

  “By ‘our’ mercenaries, does she mean Humans?” the Grenouthian interrupted. “I’m getting confused.”

  “Aabina got the top score on the EarthCent civil service exam,” the Vergallian ambassador announced proudly.

  “It all comes down to different standards of living,” Bork informed the giant bunny. “Our consortiums have found that it’s actually less expensive to let Humans set up their own communities and operate facilities under lease than to hire them as contract workers with all of the protections and benefits the Stryx impose.”

  “That’s right,” Czeros said. “A colleague of mine has an ownership interest in the Break Rock asteroid belt. The find was considered to be played out thousands of years ago, and there wasn’t enough demand for a beat-up old mining habitat to move it elsewhere. When Human contract labor became available, they reopened the mine, and since leasing the facility to the workers after the contract expiration, the shareholders have seen a jump in dividends.”

  “You’re saying that the Humans are better at managing themselves than we are?” the Grenouthian ambassador asked skeptically. “I find that difficult to believe.”

  “No, I’m saying that Humans are willing to work longer hours under worse conditions than we would ask of them.”

  “We’re planning to introduce labor and safety regulations for our communities, but the standards are less stringent than those of the advanced species,” Aabina volunteered.

  “Just think about it,” Daniel said to the ambassadors. “I have free passes to the convention and the trade show for all of you. We don’t require a commitment up front.”

  The Grenouthian ambassador asked for more examples, and Daniel allowed his Vergallian co-op student to carry the ball. By the end of the meeting, Kelly could barely remember which species was which, much less who lived where. As usual, the Verlock ambassador remained in his seat when the others rose, giving them time to get away before blocking the exit with his slow-moving bulk.

  “What did you think, Srythlan?” the EarthCent ambassador asked.

  “Aabina is an excellent addition to your embassy,” the Verlock pronounced slowly. “It proves the value of your civil service test.”

  “We had a, uh, little problem with the pass rate for humans,” Kelly confessed. “Between you and me, it was less than two percent.”

  “Closer to one and a half percent, and it would be less than one percent if you include the test takers who gave up early.”

  “You spied on our civil service exams?”

  “Not personally,” Srythlan said, his heavy features splitting into a wide smile. “I have a fourth cousin who is planning to open a chain of cram academies for Humans who want to take the EarthCent
civil service exam and he showed me a prospectus. Perhaps you can mention something to your president?”

  “Give me your cousin’s contact information,” Kelly said resignedly. “Somebody suggested grading on a curve, but that’s not going to work if aliens keep taking the test for the entertainment value.”

  Eight

  The large banner over the dojo was hand-printed in three languages, and it translated to, “Farewell, Grude. Congratulations, Marilla. Good luck, Jorb.”

  “Is that Yvandi in the corner?” Samuel asked Vivian. “I can’t tell Sharf girls apart.”

  “That’s because you’re always too busy ogling the Vergallians,” his girlfriend replied, glancing across the room. “Yes, that’s her. She finished her competency tests a while ago but she stayed around the Open University to teach a lab and do research. When she heard that Grude got the visiting alien position at that Sharf naval architecture firm, she decided to go back with him.”

  “That’s very nice of her.”

  “They’re splitting a yacht delivery rather than taking a space liner and they’ll be doing a little exploring along the way. Maybe they’ll strike it rich.”

  “Why would somebody in Sharf space be taking delivery on a yacht from Union Station?”

  “Don’t tell anybody where you heard this, but Drazen Intelligence has identified a huge market opportunity for personal ship delivery and furniture-moving businesses due to the Gryph rumors. The yacht belongs to some rich Sharf who had it parked here, and he figures he better get it home before Union Station changes hands.”

  “Crazy,” Samuel said, shaking his head. Then he pointed down at the mats covering the floor. “I wonder if there will be a martial arts demonstration for entertainment.”

  “I heard that Jorb threatened to toss that rude Dollnick princeling out on his butt if he shows up at the party to give Grude a hard time,” Vivian said. “Besides, leaving the mats down should help prevent drinking injuries.”

  “I never understood why anybody would get inebriated to the point of falling down or throwing up.”

  “That’s because you aren’t any fun,” Aabina said, putting a hand on Samuel’s shoulder and drawing a reflexive scowl from his girlfriend. “Hi, Vivian. Don’t worry. Sam and I are practically foster siblings now.”

  “Sounds like the band is getting ready to start,” Samuel announced in an obvious attempt to change the subject. “I see Mornich, but where’s Marilla?”

  “She, Jorb, and Grude are going to make a grand entrance,” the Vergallian girl told them. “They even hired that pair of jokers from the co-op orientation to do an introduction.”

  “I’m going to get a glass of wine before it’s gone,” Vivian said. “When I put the bottle I brought down on the table, it was the only thing I saw there that we can drink.”

  “I’ll get it,” Samuel volunteered immediately. “Can I bring you anything, Aabina?”

  “I have to be at work in three hours.”

  “But it’s a convergence weekend and our embassy is closed.”

  “I promised your associate ambassador I’d go in and moderate a conference call for his CoSHC members.”

  “You have access to the EarthCent embassy when nobody else is there?” Vivian asked in astonishment.

  “I’m an employee,” Aabina replied simply.

  “And I suppose that Sam can just wander into the Vergallian embassy any time of day or night…”

  “Of course, though keep in mind that my mother and I live there.”

  “You never mentioned that,” Vivian growled, rounding on her boyfriend.

  “I’ll just get that drink,” Samuel said and fled into the crowd. He didn’t look back until he reached the table set up as a bar, and was shocked to see his girlfriend and Aabina laughing so hard that they were holding each other up. He ducked out of sight behind a Dollnick and waited for the music to start before returning. Vivian was standing in the same spot he’d left her, but the Vergallian ambassador’s daughter was nowhere to be seen.

  “What was that all about?” he shouted over the music, handing Vivian her glass of wine.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, and without even tasting the wine, put the glass on the floor against the wall where it would no doubt get knocked over. “Let’s take off our shoes and dance.”

  After a few songs with a steadily increasing tempo that the Horten musicians employed to kick the party into high gear, the music came to a sudden halt. The odd couple of a Grenouthian and a Verlock in formal dress climbed onto the improvised bandstand.

  “Attention,” the Verlock bellowed, and the crowd fell silent.

  “Welcome one and all to a celebration in honor of our dear friends,” the bunny announced, and then made a show of squinting up at the banner, “Grude, Marilla and Jurb.”

  “Jorb,” his partner interrupted.

  “Right. Grynlan and I have known Jurb—”

  “Jorb,” the Verlock boomed.

  “—ever since we began training at the dojo, and I want to say that he’s the finest Frunge—”

  “Drazen!” Grynlan thundered.

  “—that I’ve ever had the joy to meet in martial combat.” The Grenouthian paused and threw a few ineffectual jabs at the Verlock, which bounced right off the leathery alien’s hide. “We both wish Jurb and Marilla well in their marriage—”

  “He’s not marrying Marilla, you idiot,” Mornich shouted, his skin turning purple.

  “My mistake,” the bunny apologized. “We wish Grude and Jurb a fruitful union—”

  “Jorb,” the Verlock howled.

  “And may their children be a blessing on us all. Without further ado, let’s get them out here.”

  The students formed a double line extending to the dojo’s office where the three honorees were waiting. The Grenouthian started a drum roll on his belly, and the students set up a rhythmic clapping and stomping, though the mats rendered the latter ineffective. Grude came out first, clasping both pairs of his hands together, and giving the victory shake of a successful martial artist to the left and the right at the same time.

  “I give you Marilla,” the Grenouthian announced.

  “Jorb,” the Verlock roared.

  “Grude!” the students shouted in unison.

  “He’s got a fifty-fifty chance of getting the next one right,” Vivian remarked to Samuel.

  “I saw a bunny doing stand-up once,” the ambassador’s son replied. “Their usual jokes are way too complicated, so this guy may be a comic genius.”

  Marilla came out next to the continuing applause, dropping Horten-style curtseys in all directions.

  “I give you Jorb!” the Grenouthian shouted, looking pleased with himself for pronouncing the name correctly. Mornich jumped on the bunny’s back and wrestled him off the stage, where the mats proved their value. The Verlock member of the comedy duo attempted to take bets while the skinny Horten and the giant bunny flopped around on the floor, and then Jorb rushed out to break up the fight.

  “That was unexpected,” Vivian commented. “I hope Mornich isn’t too mad to keep singing.”

  “Marilla is laughing,” Samuel pointed out. “Look how brown she is. All of the Hortens got a big kick out of the act.”

  “When we finish at the Open University, let’s not throw a party.” She pointed at the wall below a poster showing a two-dimensional frame grab of an immersive featuring the leading Drazen martial arts actor. “Didn’t I leave my wine right next to our shoes?”

  “I’ll get you another one,” Samuel offered, but a minute later he was back with the bad news. “Empty.”

  “That’s alright,” Vivian said as the music started up again. “Let’s dance.”

  Mornich and the band must have been putting in a special effort for Marilla because they never stopped for a break until the lights in the Dojo began to flicker on and off. Exhausted dancers collapsed on the mats as the musicians rushed to pack their equipment. The three honorees took the s
tage.

  “Thank you all for coming, but our reservation is almost up,” Jorb announced. “Please make sure to take your personal belongings and your trash with you. We don’t have much time to clean and I don’t want to lose the deposit.”

  “If anybody finds themselves in Sharf space, give me a shout,” Grude added.

  The dojo emptied out rapidly, but Samuel and Vivian stayed behind to help with the final clean-up. As soon as the musicians moved their equipment out to the corridor, Jorb gathered his friends in the office. The Drazen used his tentacle to pull a ceiling-mounted controller into reach and said, “Watch this.”

  For a moment nothing happened, and then a long metal pipe, just shorter than the width of the large room where the party had taken place, emerged from a slot at the top of the wall. Jorb jabbed at the controller, and hundreds of nozzles began blasting steam at the floor. The apparatus moved rapidly across the whole room, and to the students in the office, it looked like the dojo had filled with clouds.

  “Now a little ventilation,” Jorb announced, hitting a different button. The clouds of steam formed into vortexes as they were sucked up through ceiling vents, and in less than a minute, the only sign that the room had been cleaned was the glistening mats.

  “How long will it take the mats to dry?” Grude asked.

  “Just getting to it,” the Drazen said, and after thumbing a different button, he pushed the controller back up to its parking position at the ceiling. The metal pipe began its return trip, and the nozzles that had previously spewed steam now blasted hot air at the mats, causing dimples as they passed over.

  “I wish I had one of those at home,” Samuel exclaimed. “What a way to clean a room!”

  “But you have to take everything out first,” Vivian said. “What are those mats made of, Jorb?”

  “It’s the same stuff the Verlocks use for flexible armor. It would take a railgun pellet to cause any damage. I’ve seen guys hacking at it with axes and all they do is put a little crease in the cover that goes away as soon as somebody walks over it.”