by E. M. Foner
“It’s just that Hildy found out I can apply for the sabbatical program but I need a senior diplomat to fill in for me.”
“Pass,” the ambassadors gathered for the holographic meeting all declared simultaneously.
Fifteen
“Why is it so dark in here?” Vivian asked. “Can you ask Libby to turn up the lights?”
“It’s past midnight on Universal Human Time,” Samuel said. “We’re just lucky that the Drazen and Vergallian clocks are more or less aligned today so it’s morning for both of us.”
“Does your dad always turn down the lights in Mac’s Bones before going to bed?”
“Don’t your parents turn off the lights in your apartment?”
“But this isn’t an apartment and I can barely see my feet.”
“Your eyes will adjust to the night lighting.”
“How are we going to rent a ship if everything’s closed?”
“I made a reservation and repeat customers are authorized for self-checkout. The only catch is Marilla had to bill it to your programmable cred again because that’s the way she set up the system. I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Vivian said. “But how are we going to do the inspection when we can barely see?”
“I’ll ask Libby for a spot.” Samuel homed in on the dimly lit Tunnel Trips kiosk, where he found the check-in tab that Marilla had left on the counter. When he touched the screen, it came alive with the prefilled rental application and a blinking button to start the inspection. “Looks like we’re all set. Can you put a spotlight on number twenty-one, Libby?”
The designated rental craft was suddenly bathed in a pool of warm light, and the young couple quickly finished their walk-around. Samuel returned the tab to the kiosk, and the two of them clambered in through the small ship’s hatch.
“So, is that the same briefcase or a different one?” Vivian asked, as they settled into their cushioned seats and fastened their safety harnesses. Before sealing her purse in the chair’s saddlebag, she removed the strip with the Farling Zero-G medication and stuck a half a patch to the side of her neck. “I did some discrete asking around at work, and while the Drazens have their own hyperspace homing beacon technology, it wouldn’t fit into anything you could carry with one hand.”
“I don’t know if that briefcase was ever returned, but my instructions are the same,” Samuel said. “Maybe I’m just a decoy this time and we’ll arrive right on schedule. Controller, take us to Void Station.”
“I wish the Vergallians had told you they were turning us around the last time. When we came out of the tunnel and I heard the Union Station welcome message, I was afraid we had gone through a time warp or something and everybody we knew would be dead.”
“Jeeves says there’s no such thing as time travel, and working for Drazen Intelligence must be making you morbid. Can you close your eyes a sec while I take a quick look at where we’re going?”
“Go ahead,” Vivian said, “but once we’re in the tunnel I get to watch the Grenouthian news.”
“Controller. Display forward view,” Samuel commanded, and the screen lit up just as Gryph merged the rental into the outbound traffic still in Union Station’s core. “Don’t even peek,” he warned her. “It’s a busy night.”
“Day for us,” she reminded him. “Did you ever wonder why Aainda is using us for these secret missions? She knows I’m co-oping for Drazen Intelligence because she got them to let me off work, and it’s not like you have any training for doing spy stuff.”
“I try not to think about it too much because I’m sure she’d tell me if I had a need to know.”
“I suppose she could be worried that whatever upper-caste Vergallian we’re going to meet is going to separate us, and then my presence wouldn’t protect you from pheromones and you’d confess everything you know,” Vivian said. “You’re lucky you have me.”
“I am lucky I have you,” Samuel agreed, but he glanced down at the enchanted dagger scabbard that protruded slightly from his boot, and rationalized that not correcting an error wasn’t the same as lying. “What are you going to do if the Drazens offer you a job when the co-op term is up?”
“That depends in part on you and the Vergallians. If you keep working at their embassy, I wouldn’t gain anything by going back on Universal Human Time, and whatever job my dad gave me couldn’t be as interesting as the work I’m doing for the Drazens. You know that my parents have focused EarthCent Intelligence on business data and building a database of cultural information about the other species. The Drazens run a real spy agency, and they have me doing all sorts of stuff that I can’t talk about.”
“So we’re even,” Samuel said, and added, “Controller. Switch to Grenouthian News Network.”
“We’re in the tunnel already?” Vivian asked, opening her eyes.
“No, but the view was pretty much the same as the last time. Why isn’t the bunny talking?”
“The Grenouthian presenters do that from time to time when they’re about to show some clip they think is really funny. See how his whiskers are twitching?”
The news anchor finally broke the silence with, “Just in from the planet previously known as Kerach Two, a report on the new Sharf system for instantaneously defrosting ice worlds that requires no explanation.”
The bunny was replaced by the image of a jewel-like ball of white hanging in space with a projectile of some sort streaking toward it. There was a blinding flash and the icy shell around the planet cracked like an egg. Chunks of ice the size of small continents could be seen flying off in all directions at escape velocity, and then the screen rapidly filled with white. The video source dissolved in static before the cut back to the studio.
“Better luck next time, and for all of you out there with an ice planet that needs defrosting, stick with the Dollnicks,” the Grenouthian chortled. “They charge more because they’re worth more. Getting back to our top story, exclusive video from inside the EarthCent embassy on Union Station where they’re baking up a storm for the upcoming edition of the All Species Cookbook. And don’t forget to check your network guides for the pilot episode of our co-branded cooking show.”
“I didn’t know my mom agreed to a co-branded show,” Samuel said. The scene shifted to the overcrowded reception area of the EarthCent embassy, where Donna was seen sampling a bowl of chowder, while Aabina gave orders to a seemingly unending stream of volunteers.
“The Grenouthians are scouting Jonah to be the host,” Vivian replied. “He told me there’s some kind of big meeting at the network tomorrow and my mom is going with him to help negotiate. If everything works out, my brother could be the next Aisha, and he’ll be on screens and holographic projection systems all around the tunnel network. Isn’t that weird?”
“No weirder than seeing your grandmother crumbling crackers in her chowder while a Vergallian princess grinds pepper over what looks like fruit salad. Isn’t this a long clip for the Grenouthian news?”
“Not when they have an exclusive. I’ve seen them break into segments from some of their top journalists just because they have new video nobody else has broadcast yet. The Grenouthian news is definitely an acquired taste, but it’s on all the time at headquarters, and some of the Drazens I work with push the feed to their heads-up displays.”
“I couldn’t imagine living like that,” Samuel said. The Grenouthian cameraman captured the EarthCent ambassador sidling up to a plate of chocolate frosted cupcakes only to get her hand slapped by the embassy manager when she reached for one. “Being around all that food must be tough on Mom.”
“Entering the tunnel in ten seconds,” the controller announced.
“Mute news,” Vivian instructed the ship. “Gryph got us here fast. Do you think the Vergallians will come for us right away?”
“I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen,” Samuel said, pulling the briefcase onto his lap and counting slowly to ten before he started working the activation trick with the latch
. “How long was it last time? I fell asleep and I never asked.”
“Just around twenty minutes or so. Does that mean they were waiting in the tunnel for us?”
“Probably, but capital ships move really fast, and Vergallian crews are conditioned to withstand major displacements without becoming disoriented. For all I know, they may be able to use their jump engines to enter a tunnel if they have a beacon to home in on. I never got anywhere near far enough in math to understand that stuff.”
“Did I tell you that Herl asked me about our trip?”
“The head of Drazen Intelligence? No, you didn’t tell me. Did you talk?”
“Hey, I work for them, and they work with EarthCent. It’s not like I owe the Vergallians anything. Besides, Herl said that Aainda would have assumed that he’d approach me, and she wouldn’t have chosen you for the mission if me talking wasn’t part of her plot.”
“Plot?”
“Plot, plan, same difference.”
“I think that plotting has a negative connotation,” Samuel objected. “So what did Herl make of it?”
“He said that Aainda is probably trying to broker a deal between the Imperial and Fleet Vergallians, but that there must be more to it than that or she never would have gotten us involved. Herl thought—” Vivian hesitated, as if she was trying to figure out how much she could reveal without violating her co-op oath, “—he thought it might have something to do with the All Species Cookbook.”
“That’s crazy,” Samuel said, but something tickled the back of his brain, and he found himself trying to reconstruct every instance in which he’d heard the cookbook mentioned, which turned out to be quite a few. “Did he say why?”
“It was one of those backward reductive reasoning things that the Drazens do,” Vivian explained. “He began with the thesis that you and I are at these handovers for a reason, and then he started looking at the common factors we share.”
“Everything about us is shared in common. The only way we could be closer would be if we were related, and then we wouldn’t be engaged.”
“But that’s all old hat, and Herl said that when you’re trying to associate cause with effect, you should always start with the most recent events. We just saw my grandmother and your mom on the Grenouthian network news, and why was that? Because your mom had the idea of bidding on the All Species Cookbook, and my mom and aunt agreed to fund it and put my grandmother in charge.”
“You know, none of us had ever even heard of the cookbook before Aabina mentioned it to my mom,” Samuel said slowly. “But Aabina would never try to manipulate us like that.”
“But her mother could have manipulated her—royals do that to their kids all the time.”
“So Herl thinks that Aainda has you and me delivering briefcases to some of the most powerful Vergallians in the galaxy because our families are involved in the All Species Cookbook? What does he think is in the briefcase? Secret recipes?”
“Herl doesn’t speculate, he forms educated hypotheses, and I’m supposed to remind you to tell your dad that it’s been too long since the last poker game.”
“Hey, did you feel that?”
“Like we just got caught in a manipulator field,” Vivian said. “Controller. Switch to forward view.”
The flat end of an enormous cylindrical ship filled the viewscreen, its bright navigation beacons tracing out circles of light in the black void of the tunnel. Both of the rental ship’s occupants felt their weight increase as the rental craft was pulled into a giant hangar whose opening was at the axis of the spinning cylinder. Then came a few seconds of high-G deceleration as the manipulator fields deposited them neatly at the end of a long row of fighter craft.
“Oof,” Samuel said. “Sorry about that, Viv. Are you okay?”
“I think my brain may have come loose but I don’t feel sick or anything. This Farling medication is great stuff. Why do you think our landing was so rough compared to last time?”
“They had to match our acceleration to their spin for the landing,” Samuel said. “It’s the same as when we put down at Union Station, but Gryph does it so gradually that you barely notice. At least we won’t be weightless on this ship.”
“They certainly grabbed us faster than the other Vergallians. We were barely in the tunnel.”
“Showtime,” Samuel said, unbuckling his safety harness and standing up. “Around half of our normal weight, I’d guess. Don’t jump real hard or you might bang your head.”
“I never jump.” Vivian released her own four-point restraints and followed Samuel to the hatch. “You don’t want to wait for them to come to us?”
“They’d be out there already if that’s how this was supposed to play out. Fleet does things differently than the Empire, and I don’t know if they have any special protocols for messengers. Given the size of the crew, it may be that whoever we’re meeting is trying to avoid drawing attention.”
“After grabbing us in a Stryx tunnel?”
“You have a point,” Samuel admitted, climbing out the hatch and offering his free hand to help Vivian. “Oh, I get it. See the blue shimmer?”
“Is that an atmosphere retention field just around our ship?”
“No, it’s probably a security precaution of some sort. Maybe a force field.”
“Actually, you’re seeing the edge of the scan area,” a hidden voice announced from off to the side. “I must request that Miss Oxford remove her earrings, beret, and shoes.”
“Is that really necessary?” Samuel asked, trying to spot where the voice was coming from.
“It wouldn’t be much of a secret meeting if we allowed your companion to retain all of her Drazen spy toys.”
“It’s the training,” Vivian mumbled, stripping off her earrings, beret, and shoes. “You can’t blame me for trying.”
The blue shimmer contracted down to a small sphere that encompassed the little pile the girl had made of her contraband, and a team of officers in Fleet uniforms walked out from behind one of the tactical fighters.
A middle-aged Vergallian whose uniform identified her as a Fleet admiral strode forward. “Let’s have the briefcase,” she ordered Samuel.
“I don’t have the key, Admiral,” the EarthCent ambassador’s son said, displaying the handcuff on his wrist.
“My name is Banda and I’m not happy with Aainda and her cloak-and-dagger nonsense,” the Vergallian said. She grabbed Samuel’s wrist and brought it up closer to her face to inspect the cuff. The admiral grimaced, shook her head, and then blew on the mechanism, which popped open. “Tell her that breath print DNA locks can be foiled by near relations and are considered a failed security technology by Fleet.” As she took possession of the briefcase, she caught sight of Samuel’s boot dagger in her peripheral vision. “I recognize that crest. May I inquire how that dagger came into your possession?”
“My father received it from Baylit, who told him to give it to me when I was grown up,” Samuel offered the barest explanation.
Banda tossed the briefcase to one of the male officers in the group, and then beckoned to a younger woman whose unearthly beauty clearly marked her as a member of the upper caste. “Aasina will act as truthsayer,” she told Samuel. “I will ask you a series of questions and you will answer without attempt at subterfuge or you and your spy-friend will be remaining with us for the foreseeable future. What are you smiling at?” she barked at Vivian.
“Sorry,” the girl said, moving closer to Samuel as if she were afraid. “It just reminded me of something I saw in a Vergallian drama.”
“I’ll get to you in a minute.” Banda frowned at the young officer, who was staring into Samuel’s eyes and looking increasingly frustrated. “What is it, Aasina?”
“I don’t think he’s responding. I’ve never worked on a Human before.”
“I’ve been present at previous interrogations, and if anything, Humans are more susceptible than average.”
“My royal trainer told us something about the possibility of
natural resistance coming from the intensity of young love,” Aasina told the admiral. “She said it could be related to their need to rapidly consummate courtships before they age out of their childbearing years.”
“I suspect more of Aainda’s skullduggery,” the admiral growled, dismissing the young royal with a hand gesture. “So what is it exactly that she doesn’t want me knowing?”
“Are you asking me?” Samuel said, unsure if the Vergallian was speaking to herself or him.
“We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. When I ask a question, you will answer immediately. If I sense any hesitation, I’ll separate the two of you and we’ll see how long your immunity lasts. Understood?”
“Yes, Admiral. I have no reason to lie.”
“Why did Aainda choose a Human co-op student as courier for negotiations of such importance?”
“We were just discussing that,” Samuel replied immediately. “Vivian thinks it has to do with the cookbook.”
Banda turned her scowl on the girl. “I know who you work for but I’m not aware of your connection to the All Species Cookbook. Did Drazen Intelligence have something to do with the bid?”
“No, but I couldn’t tell you if they did,” Vivian replied honestly. “My grandmother is the cookbook editor and my mom and my aunt paid the bill for EarthCent.”
“And who are they working for? The Stryx?”
“My family? Not that I know of. It was his mother’s idea,” she added, pointing at Samuel.
“Thanks,” he muttered, as Banda shifted her glare in his direction. “Mom just thought it would be a good way to raise humanity’s profile and get the species to all agree on something.”
“You won’t be using the cookbook to settle scores?”
“Who do we have to settle scores with? We haven’t been around long enough to make any enemies.”
The admiral frowned again, and motioned for her officers to retreat, then she stepped closer to the pair of young people and touched something on her bracelet. Vivian immediately recognized the odd static feeling of a privacy field from her Drazen training and Samuel guessed the same. Despite the precautions, Banda held her hand in front of her mouth to hide her lips while speaking.