by E. M. Foner
“I’m going to steal Aabina for part of it,” Kelly called after her, but she didn’t raise her voice, and the embassy manager’s lack of a response testified that the message had gone unheard.
“You’re getting crafty in your old age,” Daniel said. “I suppose that later you’ll be citing me as a witness that you told Donna you’re borrowing Aabina.”
“It’s not for the whole meeting, and we’ll just be in my office if there’s an emergency. Duck!” she added, as a careless lighting assistant nearly decapitated them both with a tripod.
“I’m going in my office where it’s safe,” the associate ambassador said. “Three more days of this and it will all be over.”
“And I need to prepare for my meeting,” Kelly said, feinting towards her own office, but as soon as Daniel’s door closed behind him, she turned around and let her nose lead the way.
“To the left, to the left,” a photographer yelled at her young assistant, who was holding up a large circular reflector with both hands. “No, now the broccoli is casting a shadow like a tree.”
“You could press it down,” the assistant suggested.
“Rule number one,” the older woman said. “Never touch the food. One false move and we’ll spend hours waiting for the cook to make another one of whatever it is, assuming we don’t have to reschedule altogether. Now try holding it a little higher. Right there!”
“Are those worms on the pizza?” Kelly asked after the photographer straightened up again, apparently satisfied with her shot.
“Maybe some kind of larvae substitute, it’s listed as Dollnick Delight,” the photographer said. “You’re the ambassador, right?”
“Kelly McAllister, pleased to meet you, Miss?”
“Cass,” the woman said. “I only use the one name. Do you mind if I ask why EarthCent is getting into the cookbook publishing business?”
“Apparently all of the species get a turn and we were next in line. Are you one of Blythe’s photographers?”
“That’s right. I normally shoot erotic book covers, but I used to be an agricultural photographer for the Galactic Free press.” Cass checked to make sure her assistant wasn’t listening in, and then added, “I thought that photographing half-naked models would be more interesting than cattle, but in the end, beefcake is beefcake. I think the main reason Blythe hired me away from the paper is that Chastity keeps stealing EarthCent Intelligence agents and making them reporters.”
“Sibling rivalry. Is that Dollnick photographer one of Blythe’s also? She’s told me that her hottest sellers are the translations she publishes of their Trillionaire Prince romances, and I swear I blushed when Dorothy showed me one of those covers.”
“I don’t recognize him,” Cass said. She frowned at the towering alien, who was operating an elaborate camera of some type with his lower arms, while holding a fabric reflector in each of his upper hands. “Why is he shooting the Frunge Sashimi? That’s next on my list!”
“Donna,” Kelly said, grabbing at the embassy manager as she hurried past in the opposite direction. “Who hired the Dollnick?”
“Don’t know, too busy to care. I have thirty more entrees coming in today, and the chocolate soufflé the Gem caterer made in our kitchenette collapsed before the photographer could shoot it.”
“Wait,” the EarthCent ambassador called after her friend. “I like fallen soufflé.”
“Then you’ll have to get it out of the recycling shaft,” Donna shouted back.
Kelly spotted Aabina coming out of the conference room, moving with an unearthly grace that could only be attained through years of royal training. She was carrying a cheese soufflé with her elbows out for protection, and the room went temporarily still as she deposited it on a small folding table surrounded by lights and reflectors. As soon as the co-op student stepped away, a photographer lunged forward and began capturing images from all sorts of outlandish angles. Kelly would have sworn she overheard him muttering to the soufflé, “Work it, baby! Work it!”
“Aabina,” the EarthCent ambassador beckoned her co-op student.
“The meeting isn’t for another six minutes,” the Vergallian girl replied. “I seem to be the only one who can carry the soufflés out without collapsing them and the Gem have a backup chocolate one waiting in the oven for me.”
“That’s fine, you can even come in late, though you’ll have to ask Libby to tell me because I’ll be locking the door,” Kelly said. “But I want to ask you about that Dollnick photographer. Cass doesn’t know him and—”
“Ping EarthCent Intelligence,” Aabina said, after looking the direction the ambassador was pointing. “He’s not working for us. I have to get back to the Gem.”
“Drat, I was afraid of that,” Kelly muttered to herself. She started to subvoc the station librarian to ask for a connection to EarthCent Intelligence, but then changed her mind and approached the towering alien. “Excuse me. You wouldn’t happen to be here spying on us, would you?”
“Ambassador,” the Dollnick said, letting his camera dangle from one hand and holding the reflectors over his head with his upper arms, to keep them out of the way. He offered her the free hand to shake. “I’m Jupe, the ag world correspondent for Terraforming Today.” After releasing the ambassador’s hand, he reached for a holographic ID hanging on a lanyard around his neck, and did a deep knee bend so that Kelly could inspect it. “We’re a trade publication and we don’t usually report about finished products, but an All Species Cookbook edition that’s actually useful for cooking could alter food production patterns, which is a matter of high interest for our readership.”
“Really, it’s okay if you’re a spy,” Kelly said. “It’s just that this is a working embassy and we try not to—”
“A spy?” Jupe interrupted. “I’ve been a journalist for over two hundred years and nobody has ever mistaken me for a spy before.”
“Libby?” Kelly subvoced. “Can you tell me if this Dollnick really works for Terraforming Today?”
“Yes, he does,” the station librarian replied in her head.
“My apologies, though it would be best if you had checked with us ahead of time,” she told Jupe. “EarthCent is always happy to get free publicity, so you’re welcome to stay as long as you don’t interfere with the work. And please identify yourself to our embassy manager, who is also the cookbook editor.”
“I’m hoping to interview her but she’s clearly too busy at the moment,” the Dollnick said sympathetically. “Perhaps you have time?”
“I’m sorry, I have a meeting in—oh, I’m going to be late. You can ask if you see me later,” Kelly flung over her shoulder as she headed for her office. Aabina was already there waiting for her, so the chocolate soufflé rerun must have gone smoothly. The EarthCent ambassador heard Donna calling for the co-op student as the door slid closed behind them.
“Do you think she’ll be all right?” Aabina asked.
“Donna knows where we are if she really needs you, and Daniel is available, even though he’s hiding in his office,” Kelly said. “This meeting is more important for your professional development and for EarthCent’s hiring plans going forward.”
“If you think so. I have to admit that I can’t imagine my mother inviting Samuel to a meeting of this level, not to mention the secrecy implications. Didn’t you say your president will be attending?”
“The first time we had an Intelligence Steering committee meeting, the oxygen-breathing ambassadors on the station were climbing over each other to present me with a transcript or a holo-recording of the whole thing. It’s when we learned that our security wasn’t quite up to par.”
“The president’s office is connected,” Libby announced, and a hologram came alive over Kelly’s display desk. The other ambassadors on the steering committee appeared almost simultaneously, and none of them were in their nightclothes, proving once again the wisdom of adopting Universal Human Time.
“Before any of you blurt out any of our deep, dark secrets,
I’d like to point out that Ambassador McAllister’s cooperative education student is participating today,” the president began with a joke. “Aabina? Would you like to introduce yourself?”
“Hello Mr. President, Ambassadors. I’m honored that you’ve invited me to your intelligence steering committee meeting,” the Vergallian girl said in her flawless English. “I’m Aabina, daughter of Aainda, grand-daughter of Akalah, and I’m sure you’re not interested in hearing the rest of my family tree. I couldn’t be present today if you hadn’t opened your civil service exam to other species. On behalf of myself and Wrylenth, who is co-oping for EarthCent Intelligence and would have been here today if they could have spared him, I want to thank you for being so broad-minded.”
“Kelly has told us all about you and we’re so jealous,” Ambassador White said. “If you’d consider leaving Union Station—”
“Aabina is a minor and her mother would never permit it,” Kelly interrupted, thankful for once that Vergallians were so much longer lived than humans. “Perhaps you can all introduce yourselves and then we can move on to business.”
“That won’t be necessary, Ambassador,” Aabina said. “I memorized the pictures and biographies of all the senior diplomats in the EarthCent handbook my first day on the job.”
“Of course you did,” the president said, and the pleased tone of his voice combined with the groan from Ambassador Oshi made Kelly suspect that the two men had a bet riding on her co-op student. “I’m sure that you’re busy with the cookbook and I don’t want to keep you any longer than necessary. We invited you to get your thoughts about how we can attract more high-quality co-op students to accept work at our embassies.”
“Do you mean that in general, or are you specifically interested in hiring aliens?” Aabina asked.
“Aliens,” the president replied bluntly. “Although we have a limited number of data points and the Stryx aren’t admitting anything, it appears that the Open University cooperative education program is sending the best qualified human candidates to work for other species. I put in a question to our intelligence people about this, and a day later I received a detailed analysis from Wrylenth suggesting that the practice began just over two cycles ago, starting on Union Station.”
“I’d like to see that report,” Kelly said.
“It’s in your inbox, marked ‘Important,’” Aabina whispered in her ear.
“After our last meeting, I signed my twins up for a night course at the Open University just so they’d qualify for the co-op program,” Svetlana said.
“With their permission?” Carlos Oshi, the Middle Station ambassador inquired.
“They’d never do anything if I asked them first,” Ambassador Zerakova replied. “The two of them would spend all of their time live action role-playing if they didn’t have to work part-time to afford the accessories. Once they were re-accepted to the Open University, I elected deferred admission and applied to the co-op program for them. Sabina is starting at the Fillinduck embassy next week, and Katya will be working for the Verlocks.”
“Have you told them yet?” the president asked.
“I’ve been keeping it on a need-to-know basis,” Svetlana said. “I’ll tell the twins on the morning they’re starting work, and when they see the pay package, I won’t get any complaints.”
“And the aliens were willing to accept them without even an interview?” Ambassador Tamil inquired, receiving a shrug from Svetlana in return.
“I think I can answer that,” Aabina said. “The Open University assigns co-op students, there is no interview process, though employers can request to see the candidate’s academic folder before agreeing. I’m subscribed to the Open University newsletter, and there was an announcement in last cycle’s issue that going forward, EarthCent’s civil service exam will be accepted as an alternative to the ASATs.”
“What are ASATs?” Ambassador Zerakova asked.
“The Advanced Species Aptitude Test. It’s required for most applicants to the Open University, but the Stryx have always waived it for Humans because—” Aabina stopped in the middle of her sentence and looked embarrassed.
“We can guess,” the president said wryly. “So you’re saying that the advanced species also use the ASATs in hiring for their embassies?”
“Not regular hires, just cooperative education students and interns,” the Vergallian girl explained. “Students rarely have extensive work histories, and when they do, it’s probably not in a field relevant to diplomacy. The test results are better than nothing.”
“I’ve got to sign up and get me one of you,” Ambassador White muttered, as if making a mental note.
“Excuse me,” Libby interjected over Kelly’s implant. “One of the volunteers tripped over a lighting case and dumped a pot of lentil soup all over the vegetable couscous. Donna is threatening to call off the shoot if she doesn’t get Aabina back.”
“I’m sorry,” Kelly interrupted whatever Ambassador Oshi was saying, “but we’re having a cookbook emergency and Aabina is needed.”
“Thank you again for having me,” the Vergallian co-op said, hopping up from her chair. “Could you get the security lock, Ambassador?”
“I need to have you added,” Kelly told her, following the girl to the door and waving it open. “We’ll ask Libby to do it later today.”
“The EarthCent Intelligence handbook for diplomatic staff categorically states that no aliens shall be granted top access to embassy locks. I’m afraid I’ll have to refuse.”
“I’m sure they only intended the rule for caterers and building contractors,” Kelly said, as Aabina slipped out into the chaos sowed by the cookbook production. Returning to her desk, she was surprised to hear Svetlana talking about Samuel and Vivian. “What did I miss?” Kelly asked.
“Svetlana was just telling us about an odd incident the Grenouthian ambassador on Corner Station mentioned to her last night. Did you know that their shipping news coverage includes rental craft arriving and departing from Stryx stations?”
“I had no idea. I thought they just tracked large commercial vessels and important personages. They always seem to know when you show up at Union Station unannounced.”
“Perhaps they’ve concluded that your son is more important than I am,” the president said. “Why don’t you tell her the story, Svetlana?”
“I was at a reception at the Dollnick embassy last night, where I was mobbed with questions about the All Species Cookbook. The Grenouthian ambassador pulled me aside for a conversation, and he claimed that your son and his fiancée departed Union Station at, I’ve forgotten the exact time, and that Stryx traffic control routed them to Corner Station. But their rental ship never arrived here and ended up back at Union Station without ever exiting the tunnel.”
“Samuel didn’t mention anything to me, but we keep such different hours these days that I rarely see him. I didn’t know it was possible to turn around in a tunnel.”
“The Grenouthian told me that large ships can change course in the tunnels and emerge almost anywhere, but a small rental craft just coasts through and doesn’t have the capacity to reverse course. And don’t take this the wrong way, Kelly, but he also said that they’re picking up an abnormal amount of encrypted traffic from the Vergallians on Union Station.”
“Why would—you aren’t suggesting that Aabina could be involved? I’d stake my life on her integrity.”
“That was EarthCent Intelligence’s assessment as well,” the president said. “The Vergallian royals are supposed to be incapable of breaking their oaths, and that would include her co-op agreement. But I also had a visit the other day from Glunk, the head of Drazen Foods. In addition to giving me a recipe which I already sent on to Donna, he mentioned that several of their suppliers, mainly small farmers, had reported seeing a giant beetle skulking about their fields. Nobody was able to capture a picture, but that wouldn’t be surprising if it was a Farling, since their interference technology is beyond any of the oxygen-breathing tun
nel network members.”
“Oh.” Kelly hesitated. “I might know somebody who knows somebody who might know something about that, but it’s all very tentative at this point. Could you give me a little time to look into it from my end, Stephen? Things are crazy around here with the cookbook.”
“I’m not particularly worried by the presence of Farlings on Earth. We’re still a Stryx protectorate, and I think Glunk was mainly concerned from a business standpoint, since the beetles are masters at genetic manipulation and could break his hot-pepper monopoly if they put their minds to it. But I’ve also noticed a marked uptick in alien businessmen dropping by my office for casual discussions since EarthCent won the cookbook bid. I get the feeling there’s something going on that they aren’t telling me.”
“Now that you mention it, every alien ambassador that I’m on good terms with must have stopped in the embassy for a chat in the last couple weeks,” Ambassador Fu said slowly. “I had the impression they were fishing for something, but they all talk so circumspectly that I have trouble figuring out what they want even when they’re trying to be open with me. I do remember several of them mentioning the Vergallians, and the Horten ambassador asked a question about the Alts.”
“That’s it,” Ambassador Enoksen spoke up for the first time. “Two of my colleagues asked me about our contingency plans if the Alts join the tunnel network and claim that the All Species Cookbook monopoly should have been granted to them.”
“It sounds like the nexus of the action is on Union Station, Ambassador McAllister, so why don’t you carry the ball on this?” the president said. “I’ll authorize you to negotiate in my name, and if everything works out, maybe you could replace me for—”
“I’ll agree to handle whatever comes up related to the cookbook, but other than that, you’re out of luck,” Kelly cut him off. “If I had to choose between early retirement and moving back to Earth, I’ll stay right here and find work as a mediator. I know I’d earn more than the points I’d be giving up on my pension.”