by E. M. Foner
“Maybe he was afraid I wouldn’t join at all,” Lynx replied, thinking hard. “Six hundred Stryx cred, we’ll have to go back to the ship for it. Chance, you pull this off and we’ll take you back to a Stryx station. Malloy, I need some sleep before we go down to Seventy.” She paused and looked at the artificial people across from her, then shook her head. “I just want you both to know that there’s less than a thousand creds left in my emergency fund. I’ve been told I have a gambling problem, but until today, I never believed it was true.”
Eight
“If there’s no further feedback on the draft charter, we can continue on to new business, and if there is further feedback, please save it for the next meeting,” Home Boy stated, bringing the argument posing as a discussion to a definite conclusion. “Good. Now are there any questions or unfinished business before Toto updates us on the search for a new director?”
“I came up with a code name,” the former Belinda announced. “You’ve been calling me Mrs. Carp for the last fifteen minutes and I didn’t want to get off track, but I want to be Mother.”
“Duly noted, Mother,” Home Boy acknowledged. “Anything else?”
“I still don’t see a lock symbol in the hologram,” Troll pointed out.
“That’s because we still can’t afford a secure channel,” Home Boy replied tiredly. “Unless, of course, you’re volunteering to pay for it out of your own budget.”
The bird of paradise shook its head and pecked at an imaginary speck on its shoulder.
“I’ve successfully recruited a director,” Toto announced without further prompting. “He was orphaned at an early age and taken in by an idiosyncratic Vergallian trader, of all things, so he’s extremely well traveled. He served a full hitch in a mercenary unit, and he has a strong practical background in archeological research, giving him some familiarity with galactic history and culture.”
“Get to the important part,” Lion growled impatiently. “How’s he set for funds? Was he in on sacking a palace as a mercenary?”
“Better than that,” Toto replied. “He married money.”
“What’s his name?” Tinkerbelle asked. “When are we going to meet him?”
“The director asked to be excused from EEK meetings until we can arrange for a secure channel,” Toto answered the python. “While the director and his wife stand ready to fund all required start-up costs for EarthCent Intelligence, they feel that EEK should pay for its own meetings.”
“Don’t blame them,” Troll said. “So the wife is in the loop?”
“I initially intended to recruit the wife as the director,” Toto admitted. “They decided to work as a team, and they felt that the husband, with his fighting background and other attributes, would make a better front man.”
“What other attributes?” Pill Bottle inquired, lifting his trunk as he spoke.
“I really don’t want to discuss this further over a non-secure channel,” Toto pointed out. “While it’s safe to assume that the, uh, competing intelligence services will figure out who he is soon enough, I don’t see why we should gift-wrap the information for them.”
“It sounds to me like you’re assuming that they know to be listening in,” Home Boy conjectured. “But I recall reading somewhere that the great powers of the twentieth century often sent classified materials through the public mail system, where the sheer volume of correspondence served as a shield.”
“I talked to some local technical talent about that,” Lion put in, stifling a yawn. “Although the Stryx tunneling communications network carries a staggering amount of traffic, relatively little of it involves simultaneous linking of Earth with six other, um, distinctive locations across the galaxy. While my expert confessed that the technology for such monitoring is beyond human capabilities, he suggested it would be child’s play for the more advanced species. That’s why the Stryx sell encryption services, after all.”
“I really don’t know where I’m going to find the money for this,” Home Boy replied in frustration. “It’s tough enough coming up with token payments for our interns. Can you ask your director again, Toto? Maybe he’d be willing to advance us the funds for a meeting. Remember, we did tell the first agents we recruited to remit excess trading profits to the home office. What if we direct all of those funds into an account for the intelligence service?”
“I’ll ask,” Toto replied, while shaking her terrier head in the negative. “The wife is a genuine business tycoon and I don’t think she’ll be impressed with our casual approach to finance.”
“So you think I run a loose ship?” Home Boy inquired stiffly. “How about this? If we wrap up within the next thirty seconds and release the channel, the Stryx will refund a third of the fee. All in favor?”
Six hands shot up, and Home Boy reached outside of the hologram, manipulating something on his display desk. A second later, everybody’s holo display collapsed.
Kelly sighed and pushed back from her own display desk. The early afternoon meeting on Earth translated into early in the morning for her, but she was up to feed Samuel in any case. Joe had already suggested that they rent the baby out as an alarm clock, though Kelly decided not to believe he was serious. She took her mug of tea from the desktop and wiped away the ring with her sleeve, no need for Aisha to know that the ambassador was sneaking in before hours. Just as she entered the outer office, there was a knock at the door.
“Really?” Kelly muttered to herself. “A diplomatic problem that can’t wait another two hours for Aisha and Donna to come in?” But the embassy offices didn’t have a back exit, so she swiped the pad and the door slid open.
“Good morning, Ambassador,” Bork said cheerfully. The Drazen ambassador must have been on his way to a costume party because he was wearing some sort of fancy uniform with a crossbow slung across his back. What surprised Kelly even more was that he was holding a sheaf of paper in his hand. The Drazens weren’t opposed to paper on family grounds, like the Frunge, but they had moved past the Paper Age a good half a million years ago.
“Good morning, Bork,” Kelly replied cautiously. “Interesting outfit you have on.”
“I was just at the Union Station traveling auditions for a Drazen historical production,” Bork explained. “If it went well, my wife will schedule our vacation so we can work a few days as extras on the set. Historical reenactments are a hobby in my family.”
“So what brings you by the office so early when I’m supposedly still home on maternity leave?” Kelly asked, arching an eyebrow.
“If you could take a minute and glance through this, I think your question will be answered,” Bork replied, extending the sheaf of paper. Kelly accepted the offer and led Bork back into her office, where the Drazen settled into the seat next to her display desk.
“It’s a transcript,” Kelly said, flipping the pages without stopping to read any of the sentences. Wait, did she just see her own name? “It’s a transcript of the meeting I just attended?”
“I hear it was a challenge to find a printer and meet me outside your office with the hard copy. The messenger who brought it appeared to be quite out of breath,” Bork admitted. “Does everything look correct?”
“Bork! You’re spying on us,” Kelly exclaimed in disappointment. “I would have thought of all the species on the station, you’d be the one to ask if you wanted to know something, rather than just taking.”
“We aren’t spying on you, we’re spying on the Vergallians,” Bork replied mildly. “I wouldn’t be able to tell you this in an unsecured office, but my colleagues did loan me this active interference bracelet to wear,” he continued, pulling back the sleeve of his costume and displaying a high-tech controller on his wrist. “It suppresses all of the known eavesdropping technologies in a small radius at the price of the listeners knowing they’re being jammed.”
“Wait, you mean you were spying on the Vergallians spying on us?” Kelly asked, wishing she hadn’t gone off coffee for the duration.
“It’s
not just the Vergallians,” Bork assured her, though strangely, that didn’t make Kelly feel any better. “Everybody we spy on is spying on you. While my own people maintain a strict separation between the diplomatic and intelligence worlds, I was intercepted leaving the auditions by our, uh, roving cultural attaché, who asked me to approach you on his behalf. Although I’m not sure what they expect from you in return, our people would like to establish a working relationship on the intelligence front.”
“Why, that’s great, Bork, I think,” Kelly replied. “I’m not directly involved in the work, other than being on the committee, that is, but I’ll be happy to pass your request on to the proper people.”
“Actually, my colleague requested that you arrange a meeting for him with the Oxfords. I believe that’s the name young Clive and Blythe are using, though I’m told it’s a recent acquisition for both parties,” Bork added.
“So you are spying on us!” Kelly cried in a hurt tone.
“Well, just a little,” Bork admitted with a twinkle in his eye. “We have to know who we’re cooperating with, after all.”
“I’ll forgive you this time, I guess, and I’ll invite Blythe over for a chat at a more civilized hour of the morning,” Kelly replied. “But what was so important about handing me the transcript hot off the press?”
There was a knock at the outer door of the office. Bork shrugged and folded his hands over his stomach, the Drazen posture of an audience member at a concert or a play. Kelly went back to the outer office and opened the door again, expecting to meet the local Drazen spymaster and to give him a piece of her mind over the early hour. Instead, Ambassador Czeros stood in the hall, looking like he’d come directly from a bar.
“My dear, dear, Ambassador,” Czeros slurred, or at least, that’s how Kelly’s implant translated his words. “Wonderful, wonderful, seeing you up and around after your interesting event. Is the male heir here with you? I’ve been meaning to come by and see the little shrub, but some cultures are overly protective of their newborns, you know.”
“Ambassador Czeros. What an unexpected surprise,” Kelly replied, sticking her head past him and scanning the corridor to see if there were any more diplomats waiting in ambush. “Please come in. I’ve just been having the most interesting conversation with…”
“I know, I know,” Czeros interrupted her. “You just got off a holoconference with your intelligence steering committee. Our cultural attaché told me all about it.” The ambassador swayed on his root-like feet as he dug for something in a hidden pocket. He produced a holo-cube and extended it to Kelly. “A gift for you.”
Kelly took the cube and eyed it curiously. She’d seen holo-cubes before in stores but she’d never used one herself so she had no idea how to activate it.
“How do I make it work?” she asked the inebriated Frunge, even as she tried to remember what it was about coming into the office that she missed so much.
“My apologies, my apologies,” Czeros repeated, taking back the cube from her and then hurling it at Donna’s display desk, the largest piece of furniture in the room. There was a flash of light, and suddenly Kelly was looking at a large hologram of herself, sans the Cairn terrier disguise, along with five other EarthCent ambassadors and the EarthCent president.
“Welcome to the second meeting of, uh, EEK,” EarthCent’s president opened the meeting. “I hope you all have had time to go over the draft charter my office has drawn up, so I’d like to start with your feedback. Pill Bottle?”
Kelly stared at the one-time hologram dumbfounded, since the quality of the images and sound was better than what had projected from her own display desk during the meeting, not to mention the absence of the anonymity filter. She watched a full minute of the replay in silence before asking Czeros, “Can you turn it off now?”
“It’s a one-shot holo-holder, doesn’t have an off button,” Czeros replied, leaning against the wall for support. “Not our specialty really. Horten technology that.”
Bork appeared from the inner office, winked at Kelly, and touched a button on his bracelet. The hologram continued to play, but the sound was muted. The Drazen ambassador looked annoyed and continued pressing and pulling at various projections on his security device, at one point causing the hologram to flip upside down and tint all of the diplomats a deep blue. Still, it kept on playing and he gave up with a shrug.
“So you’ve been spying on us,” Kelly accused Czeros, though it came out in the same tone as she might have said, “So you’ve been waiting for us,” or something equally innocuous. The little bit of indignity she’d initially felt had already been spent on Bork.
“Not entirely,” Czeros protested, leaving Kelly to wonder what he meant. “My support staff picked this up off the Gem feed. Nasty clones.”
“And you’re here to propose a partnership with EarthCent Intelligence,” Kelly surmised.
“Not me!” the Frunge protested, looking genuinely offended. “My people have a saying about diplomacy and spying making a bad mix. It’s very elegant, but I can’t remember it at the moment.”
“So you just wanted me to know that the Gem are watching us?” Kelly asked. “That’s very nice of you.”
“Well, the, er, colleague who gave me the cube would like to meet with the Oxfords as soon as possible,” Czeros admitted. “Just some exploratory talks, you know.”
“I’ll pass that along,” Kelly replied, beginning to feel sorry for Blythe and Clive. She was just starting to wonder why Bork and Czeros weren’t getting up to their usual feud, when there was a knock at the door. Kelly grimaced and swiped the control pad.
“Ambassador McAllister,” thundered the Verlock ambassador, extending a holo-cube in one massive hand. Then he noticed the blue-tinged upside-down hologram still playing above Donna’s desk, and peered at the other two ambassadors. “You are busy. I’ll just call InstaSitter later and ask for Blythe.” As the slow-moving Verlock turned away from the door, a Dollnick appeared from the other direction and ducked through the opening before the panel slid closed.
“By the eggs of my grandmother, I am too late!” the Dollnick swore, clapping both sets of hands simultaneously. “You are Ambassador McAllister,” he continued, “I recognize you from the EEK meetings. We haven’t met yet, as you have been out on nest leave since I was assigned to this posting, but I am Ambassador Crute.”
“Late, late, late,” Czeros chided the newcomer.
“The early Dolly gets the Sheezle slug,” Bork added, drawing an angry look from Crute.
“I am pleased to meet you,” Kelly replied formally, offering her hand to the towering Dollnick. He appeared to be puzzled by the gesture and looked over his shoulder to see if she was reaching for something behind him. Kelly withdrew her hand to prevent further confusion. “May I assume that you are here to offer your cooperation on intelligence efforts?”
“Cooperation?” the Dollnick asked. “Perhaps my translation implant is malfunctioning. Our guild of merchants asked me to drop by and offer you our consulting services in securing your office. Perhaps you have other technical needs we can fill as well,” he added, reaching one of his upper arms into his pouch. The upside-down hologram disappeared with a loud “pop.”
There was another knock at the door, and before Kelly could respond, the Dollnick ambassador waved her back and reached into his pouch again. The door slid open revealing Ambassador Gem. Kelly flinched inwardly.
“You won’t get away with it,” Gem declared, elbowing her way by Crute and confronting Kelly. “We’re sick and tired of the envy of other species leading you to leave us out of station-wide economic events. I’m here to lodge an official complaint, and I’m stating for the record that I will file a species discrimination notification with the Stryx.”
“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” Kelly retorted indignantly. “Just because I don’t accept every dinner invitation doesn’t mean I have anything against you.”
“Then why haven’t we been invited to your
spy craft trade show?” Ambassador Gem demanded. “My sisters operate the most advanced internal security service in the galaxy. Pick a number between one and forty billion!”
“Pick a what?” Kelly asked, thinking that the universe just kept getting weirder and weirder.
“Two billion and eighteen.” Bork spoke in the bored tone of somebody who played this game before and knew it was best to just get it over with.
Ambassador Gem tapped rapidly on her fingernails and then stamped her foot. A life-sized hologram appeared of an unhappy Gem spooning an unappetizing nutrient drink into her mouth.
“Two billion and eighteen,” Ambassador Gem intoned. “This is a security check. What is your condition?”
The miserable Gem stiffened and looked even more depressed, if that was possible.
“I am happy and well,” Gem two billion and eighteen replied. “All praise Gem!”
The hologram winked out, and Ambassador Gem turned triumphantly to Kelly.
“That’s one of the saddest things I’ve ever witnessed,” Kelly declared, feeling a wave of depression wash over her.
“More jealousy of our superior system,” Ambassador Gem responded. “And you really intend to exclude us from your spy craft trade show?”
“But we haven’t even announced it yet,” Kelly replied, as it suddenly came to her that only six or seven humans even knew of the plans. “And you’re spying on us!”
“Of course we’re spying on you,” Ambassador Gem replied. “We have a legitimate need to defend ourselves from those who hide their envy behind outward shows of disapproval. While it’s possible my complaint may be premature, you don’t deny that you are planning a trade show.”
“That’s an interesting idea,” Bork put in. “I’m sure that there are plenty of Drazen surveillance equipment businesses which would appreciate a chance to display their wares. I don’t recall anybody sponsoring such an event before, at least not during my working years.”