Guest Night on Union Station Page 9

  “Thank you, Ambassador,” Jeeves declared. He pirated her floating microphone, not because he needed it, but to keep her from objecting. “Thank you for inviting me, Shaina,” he added, bobbing in his partner’s direction. “So, I’d like to start by asking the person who submitted this question, do YOU have any money?”

  The audience exploded in laughter at the Stryx’s turning the tables on the questioner. All of the delegates were involved in business, either directly or indirectly, and they knew that humans had a reputation among the other species as being full of ideas and empty of pocket.

  “Seriously, though,” Jeeves continued. “If you look around at the advanced species, you’ll find that very few of them invite the Stryx to participate in their businesses. Many of them are suspicious about our motivations, and for good reason. While we certainly don’t object to making a profit, our first priority is always the protection of the tunnel network, which includes keeping the peace among our members.”

  “So you’re saying if I want a partner for a weapons manufacturing plant, you aren’t interested,” remarked a man sitting right in front of the stage.

  “Personally, I like weapons,” Jeeves replied. “My main objection to joining a human business focused on military products is that from my standpoint, your technology is tens of millions of years out of date. But it’s a valuable question because it highlights the limitations of Stryx participation in a non-Stryx business. Station librarians are generally happy to handle back-office work in their free time for a percentage of the gross, and younger Stryx such as myself may enjoy getting out and interacting with the inhabitants of the galaxy in a useful manner. But having a Stryx partner will not give you access to any technology or knowledge that can’t be acquired through other means.”

  “We’re out of time,” Kelly whispered to Jeeves, who reluctantly allowed the microphone to float back to its rightful position. “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for questions,” Kelly repeated, this time her voice going out to the crowd. “Our panel has volunteered to remain on the stage until lunch, and their contact information is included in the conference package, if you want to ping them later. Don’t forget that the two-seat floater will be debuting on this stage at 3:00 PM today. Thank you for coming, and please let Junior Consul Cohan know if there’s anything the embassy can do for you.”

  Nine

  “I’m on my way now, but you could have given me a little more notice,” Kelly grumbled at the ceiling of the lift tube capsule.

  “I didn’t want to distract you while you were moderating the panel discussion, and it would have been cruel to take you away before the free lunch EarthCent Intelligence sponsored. Besides, there’s really nothing you need to prepare,” Libby replied.

  “I talked it over with the family and we decided to put the Cayl up in Ailia’s old room. I’m taking your word for it that he’s safe around children.”

  “The Cayl put their code of conduct before all else, and the obligations of a guest are rather extreme. While Brynt is staying in your home, he’s honor-bound to treat you and your family the same way he treats his own flesh-and-blood.”

  “And how does this Brynt guy treat his own flesh-and-blood?” Kelly felt bad about questioning Libby’s judgment, but over the years she’d discovered that it paid to read the fine print in alien codes of conduct.

  “The same as you treat your own,” Libby reassured her. “In addition, if you experience any difficulties during his stay, he will take them on as his own. Unscrupulous individuals from the member species of the Cayl Empire who are engaged in blood-feuds or experiencing business problems vie with one another to lure a Cayl as a guest. I hate to think of how many bankruptcies the Cayl have footed the bill for in the last few million years. A rigid code of conduct is a dangerous thing.”

  “So I take Brynt home first, since he represents the empire, and then I go back to escort the four emissaries to the embassies that are playing host?”

  “They’re all arriving together in a Cayl shuttle, making them Brynt’s guests, so he’ll expect you to take care of them before you pay attention to him.”

  “If you say so.” Kelly stepped out of the lift tube into the main docking area and shifted to subvocing so passers-by wouldn’t think she was talking to herself. “And when will the shuttle be arriving?”

  “Three. Two. One.”

  “That’s a shuttle?” Kelly asked, as an alien ship gently came to rest on the deck just a hundred paces away. “You know I’m not that good with military stuff, but it looks more like a Horten destroyer than a simple transport.”

  “Looks can be deceiving,” Libby replied. “It’s more powerful than a Horten battleship. Don’t forget that the Cayl created a military empire that includes thousands of star systems.”

  A section of the oversized shuttle’s hull seemed to peel back as Kelly approached, and a platform bearing five passengers floated out of the opening and down to the deck. Kelly arrived just as the Cayl stepped off the platform, the four emissaries trailing respectfully at his heels.

  “Welcome to Union Station,” Kelly said, extending her hand to the Cayl, who wore a heavy gold chain around his neck. “You must be Brynt. I’m Kelly McAllister, the hostess for the Stryx open house.”

  “Kelly McAllister,” the Cayl echoed her, getting the pronunciation correct.

  Kelly was so surprised that she almost forgot to return his grasp when his hand wrapped around hers. The only one of her alien friends who could actually pronounce words in English was Dring. All of the others simply reproduced a facsimile of whatever their translation implants came up with, and without her own translation implant active, Kelly wouldn’t have recognized their voices or known that they were addressing her. Her fingertips investigated the claws protruding from the back of the Cayl’s hand, and he favored her with smile, exposing an impressive set of canines.

  “One of my duties as hostess is to take your emissaries around to the embassies of the tunnel network ambassadors they’ll be living with and to make the introductions,” Kelly said. “You’ll be staying at my home, which is on this deck, so perhaps you’d prefer to wait in the shuttle and I’ll return for you.”

  “Thank you for the consideration, but it is my responsibility to see these emissaries safely delivered to their temporary domiciles,” Brynt replied politely. He turned to the four representatives of the dominant factions in the Cayl Empire and growled, “Introduce yourselves.”

  “But the creature already said that she’s just a glorified guide,” the most human-looking of the lot objected.

  Kelly remembered what was behind the gold mask covering the Lood’s face and said a silent prayer that he keep it on. She hadn’t been thinking about third eyes when she ate far too much fruit salad with fresh grapes at the free luncheon, and suddenly her stomach felt queasy. Kelly couldn’t see Brynt’s response to the objection because his back was turned, but something in his demeanor must have sent the Lood a message.

  “I am Z’bath,” the masked humanoid pronounced coldly. He made no move to shake hands, which was fine by Kelly.

  “Timba,” said the alien who resembled an image of a Hindu god.

  “Tarngol,” grunted the silver-skinned Shuga, whose flat belly showed that he or she wasn’t incubating an egg.

  “Geed,” the turtle-like creature declared. Kelly’s translation implant gave the Tzvim’s voice a friendly sound, and a decidedly female timbre.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Geed, Tarngol, Simba, Z’bath,” Kelly replied.

  “Timba,” Libby whispered over Kelly’s implant. The Nangor’s trunk curled in disgust.

  “I’m sorry, Timba,” the ambassador corrected herself. “I see none of you are carrying luggage. Do you need a moment to return to the shuttle for your things before we get going?”

  Four pairs of eyes stared at Kelly in disbelief, but Brynt silenced them with a low growl and turned back around to face their human host.

  “It appears the traditi
ons of our empire are somewhat different than those of the tunnel network,” the Cayl explained mildly. “Our emissaries are entirely unused to manual labor of any form, and they expect all of their needs to be provided for by their hosts.”

  “I see,” Kelly replied. She wondered if this was going to come as news to the Vergallians, the Grenouthians, the Hortens and the Dollnicks. “I suppose all that’s left then is to get you settled in. Shall we?”

  Kelly began walking backwards towards the lift tubes, feeling like a tour guide who had forgotten her script. After a dozen steps, when she was sure the group was following her, she turned around and completed the trip in silence. Upon entering the lift tube capsule, the EarthCent ambassador remained standing just inside the door, hoping that it would be interpreted as a gesture of respect.

  As the aliens crowded together to enter the capsule, Kelly saw Timba’s trunk brush the feathers of Tarngol’s crest in the wrong direction, as if by accident. Z’bath gave the turtle-like Tzvim an unnecessary shove as she crossed the threshold, and the sharp-eyed Cayl delivered a kidney punch to the masked Lood’s back. For a moment, Kelly was worried that she was going to be caught in the middle of a five-sided fight, but the Cayl growled and swatted the four emissaries to the points of the compass, with himself at the center.

  “Vergallian embassy,” Kelly told the ceiling. The sooner she was rid of the Lood the better.

  “I presume I will be staying with the Vergallians,” Timba said.

  “You’ll be staying with the Dollnicks,” Kelly replied. “The Grenouthians are looking forward to hosting you, Geed, and the Hortens have been eagerly anticipating your arrival, Tarngol.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t understand,” Timba said icily. “As the senior emissary, I should be the first one introduced to my temporary quarters.”

  “Oh. We’ll do it that way next time,” Kelly replied as the door slid open. “The Vergallian embassy is just a few steps down the corridor, but you don’t all have to come. Emissary Z’bath?”

  Kelly extended her arm on a slight downwards angle, with the hand pointing more or less in the direction of the embassy, palm up. The Lood stepped out of the lift tube and strode off in the direction indicated, forcing the human ambassador to break into a jog to catch up. She glanced back at the lift tube and noted that the Cayl had herded the other emissaries out of the capsule, but was holding them back from following.

  “It’s just here,” Kelly said, as they arrived in front of the Vergallian embassy. The ornate doors were closed, and even more surprisingly, failed to open automatically for the new arrivals.

  “I see that Vergallian hospitality hasn’t changed,” the Lood stated in a bored voice. He pulled a small pouch from his sleeve, extracted a pinch of a green substance, and pushed it through the mouth-opening of his mask with a finger. “Perhaps I should have brought a locksmith.”

  “Libby?” Kelly subvoced. “Could you ping Aluria for me and find out what’s going on?”

  “She’s trying to establish dominance,” the Stryx librarian replied over the ambassador’s implant. “Z’bath is aware of this and will no doubt do something to counter. You don’t need to stay.”

  “If you don’t mind waiting here, I should really get the other emissaries settled,” Kelly said to the Lood. She felt terrible about leaving him standing in the corridor alone, but she trusted Libby’s assessment and didn’t see what would be accomplished by remaining.

  Z’bath expertly spat a long stream of green juice at the doors of the Vergallian embassy, nodding his head and dropping his chin at the same time. Whatever was in the substance, Kelly was horrified to see that it solidified on contact, leaving something like a backwards “Z” scrawled across the entrance to the embassy. The doors slid open almost immediately after this act, and Aluria emerged, smiling sweetly.

  “Emissary Z’bath, allow me to introduce you to Ambassador Aluria,” Kelly stated formally. “I wish I could stay and chat, but the others are waiting.” Then she beat a hasty retreat back to the lift tube, not wanting to see what the next phase of Lood-Vergallian maneuvering would bring.

  The Cayl herded his three remaining charges back into the lift tube as Kelly approached. The moment she entered, the Nangor pronounced, “Dollnick embassy,” and the capsule set off.

  “You seem to be in a hurry today, Timba,” the Shuga said conversationally.

  “The early Nangor gets the Dollnick,” Geed added, adroitly twisting to present her armored back when Timba pretended to lose his balance, causing his trunk to lash out in the direction of the Tzvim. Brynt intercepted the blow before it could land, and shoved the quarrelsome sentients further apart.

  The rest of the brief ride passed peacefully and they arrived on the Dollnick deck, where the embassy was situated directly across from the lift tube. Crute was waiting in the corridor with a full panoply of liveried staff. Kelly stepped out of the capsule, the Nangor hard on her heels, and made the introduction.

  “Emissary Timba, allow me to introduce you to Ambassador Crute.”

  Timba extended a hand, palm out, and for a moment, Kelly thought that he and the Dollnick were going to exchange a friendly greeting. When Crute’s palm met Timba’s, their fingers locked over each other, and then they both extended their other three arms the same way. As Kelly ducked back into the lift tube, she could see the muscles of the four-armed alpha-males bulging, with each of them trying to force his counterpart to kneel.

  “Watch out for his trunk,” Brynt called a friendly warning to Crute.

  “Horten embassy,” the silvery Tarngol pronounced the moment the door closed, and the capsule set off smoothly. Neither of the two remaining emissaries nor the Cayl seemed the least bit surprised by the way the introductions were proceeding, so Kelly decided to bite her tongue and just get through it.

  The Horten embassy was a short walk from the lift tube, and this time the Cayl and the Tzvim came along. Brynt expressed a favorable opinion of the station architecture as they strolled through one of the smaller commercial corridors. The skin response of the Horten residents who spotted the visitors reminded Kelly of the way a dance club mirror ball seemed to paint revelers different colors. In front of their embassy, the Hortens had prepared a reception similar to that of the Dollnicks.

  “Emissary Tarngol, allow me to introduce you to Ambassador Ortha,” Kelly declared.

  Ortha responded with a mere head nod, and Tarngol barely ruffled the feathers on his crest.

  “We’ll just be going then,” Kelly said, relieved that she wouldn’t have to witness whatever animosity the alien diplomats held in store for each other. “I’ll pick you up for the station tour tomorrow, Tarngol.”

  Receiving no reply, the ambassador led Geed and Brynt back to the lift tube. She had grown so accustomed to the emissaries of the Cayl Empire horning in on the navigation that she allowed five or ten seconds to tick by before asking the ceiling to take them to the Grenouthian embassy.

  A double line of sash-wearing Grenouthians and the majority of the floating immersive cameras on Union Station met them when they exited on the most exclusive bunny deck. Kelly hadn’t seen so many ranking Grenouthians in one place at one time since her first visit to their embassy.

  “Emissary Geed, allow me to introduce you to, uh, the Grenouthian ambassador,” Kelly said.

  “Ambassador,” Geed said politely.

  “Emissary,” the Grenouthian replied. He stepped forward, a scarlet sash held loosely in his paws. “Please allow me to present you with the pass to our warrens,” he said formally.

  Geed inclined her head and the Grenouthian ambassador arranged the sash over her shoulder. Although the Tzvim weren’t as large as the bunnies, their natural armor gave their torsos surprising bulk, so the sash stopped mid-shell, rather than draping to her hip.

  A band started to play and several reporters for the Grenouthian news networks hopped right up to the guest and began pelting her with questions. Kelly lost sight of the Tzvim as the large bunnies cr
owded around, and she retreated into the lift tube where the Cayl waited, a hand over the door to keep it from closing.

  “Mac’s Bones,” she told the lift tube. “Well, so much for keeping your early arrival confidential, Brynt. Based on the number of reporters and immersive cameras I just saw, the Grenouthians are going to make this their lead story.”

  “By themselves, the emissaries are neither a threat nor particularly newsworthy,” Brynt replied. “When the Stryx negotiated this exchange, I was impressed by their willingness to engage with such aggravating species. I hope there is plenty of security in place when the open house begins.”

  Kelly was still digesting this answer when they arrived back on the innermost deck, just down the corridor from Mac’s Bones. She didn’t remember the trip from the Grenouthian embassy being that short, but maybe Gryph had changed some of the routes.

  “It’s just this way,” she encouraged the Cayl after they exited the capsule. “I didn’t know you were involved in the open house negotiations. I’m afraid all I know about you, other than your name, is that you were sent along to accompany the emissaries.”

  “That’s not exactly correct,” Brynt told her. “It would be more accurate to say that the Stryx talked me into attending as an observer.”

  “So you represent the old Cayl leadership?” Kelly asked, trying to feel her way forward. Libby had made it sound like the Cayl had disbanded their empire in all but name and were merely acting as a paid mercenary force.

  “I am the old Cayl leadership,” Brynt told her casually as they entered Mac’s Bones. “It’s part of being emperor. And I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to this trip. It’s the first vacation from the empire I’ve ever taken.”

  The EarthCent ambassador almost fell over at Brynt’s announcement. She was putting up the emperor of the Cayl Empire in Ailia’s old room in their converted ice harvester? Kelly had told Joe that their guest would probably be a military functionary, a sort of a placeholder for the Cayl’s honor. She was desperately subvocing Libby for a crash course on imperial etiquette when the sound of claws scratching frantically at the deck brought her attention back to what was happening right in front of her.