Spy Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 4)

by E. M. Foner

  “Is there a pay cut?” Aisha inquired cautiously, having learned that nothing involving EarthCent promotions was as simple as it seemed.

  “Not since InstaSitter started sponsoring the embassy,” Kelly told her. “I have to hand it to Blythe, she doesn’t skimp on salary. Anything I need to catch up on?”

  “Are you serious?” Aisha demanded. “For the last two weeks, every time I tried to bring up work, you told me to wait until you visited the office. I was beginning to feel guilty that I didn’t push Paul harder to move out of Mac’s Bones and give you some privacy.”

  “That’s silly,” Kelly told her. “You know we have plenty of room, and Joe and I are the ones who should feel guilty, with all of the free babysitting you do for us. Speaking of which, Samuel should be getting hungry in about twenty minutes, so let’s get started.”

  The ambassador took the bassinet holding her four-month-old son from the display desk and put it on the floor. Then she thought better of it, moved the bassinet to the chair, and rolled the chair out of the way.

  “Well, you know that we’re completely sold out for booth spaces,” Aisha began her recitation. “And when I opened a reservations list for a potential show next year, all of the same vendors signed up immediately. It makes you wonder how they sold their spy stuff until now.”

  “Probably with some difficulty, or they wouldn’t be so enthusiastic about the show,” Kelly replied. “Any real surprises, or is it pretty much the usual suspects?”

  “Ever hear of the Cherts?” Aisha asked the ambassador.

  “No, they must not have a presence on the station, or maybe they aren’t nitrogen/oxygen breathers,” Kelly guessed. “When it comes down to it, we don’t mix much with the non-humanoid types who can’t get by on nose filters. It’s hard to do diplomacy in person when one of the parties is wearing a full environmental suit.”

  “I took the Chert who came in for human at first, but the yellow eyes and teeth were a bit of a giveaway,” Aisha replied. “It turns out they have most of the deck above this one, and Libby says that there are about two million of them on the station.”

  “How come we never met?” Kelly asked.

  “According to Srizzle, that’s as close as I can come to pronouncing his name, they were just waiting for the right business opportunity,” Aisha explained. “I guess they aren’t very social, and they’re experts in stealth technology, so we don’t see them unless they want to be seen. They were almost tempted out of their voluntary seclusion a few years ago when InstaSitter launched, but in the end, they worried it would interfere with their balance of trade.”

  “A little babysitting would have impacted their bottom line?” Kelly said in amazement. “I know InstaSitter isn’t exactly cheap, but still, it’s just babysitting.”

  “Srizzle explained that too. Since they currently don’t do any business with the other station species, being hidden and all, they worried about their exchange rate with the Stryx cred. But now they hope they can sell enough counter-surveillance equipment to come out of hiding. He seemed very nice.”

  “Alright, a race of hidden aliens living right above our heads, that’s pretty impressive. Anything else I need to know?”

  “A group called the Artificial Intelligence Knights took four folds. They’re selling intelligence from all over the galaxy. I asked Libby about them, and she said that while the Stryx know of their existence, they are actually a very secretive group and they mainly operate outside of Stryx space. One of their robots stopped by the office to barter information in lieu of the vendor fee, but I told him I wasn’t authorized.”

  “Artificial Intelligence Knights,” Kelly mused, trying out the acronym. “AIK. Ache? Sounds like they’re coming out of the woodwork for this one. Anything else?”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you why the Empire Convention Center hall we rented is the Nebulae room, rather than Nebula. I mean, it’s the plural, right? It’s never the Galaxies room or the Black Holes room.”

  “Do they actually have a Black Hole room?”

  “Yes. I stuck my head in the door when I went over to look at the available options, won’t do that again,” Aisha replied ruefully. “I tried to ask the Dollnick secretary in charge of the room bookings about the name, but she said that information was on a need-to-know basis. I swear this spy show is making everybody crazy.”

  “It’s good to be curious, Aisha, but you have to prioritize,” Kelly cautioned her intern. “We already rented the Nebulae room once, the name was the same then and the show was a great success. I’d be more concerned if it suddenly changed.”

  “Knock, Knock,” Donna said as she entered the room. “You know that you have a meeting here with Bork in a half an hour, right?”

  Kelly nodded her head in the affirmative. She was looking forward to meeting her friend after seeing the Drazen ambassador so infrequently while on maternity leave. At first she was a little offended that he didn’t come by Mac’s Bones to fuss over the baby, but Tinka explained that in Drazen culture, males were persona non grata around babies until the mother and child had a chance to Sh’krint, a word the implant failed to translate, but which the Drazen girl related to the human concept of bonding.

  “He’s bringing another Drazen diplomat, their cultural attaché for the entire station network,” Donna added significantly. Cultural attaché? A little bell in Kelly’s head dinged, and it wasn’t her implant announcing that her mother was calling long distance.

  “Well, I’m sure anybody with an interest in human culture on the stations would love to meet the founders of InstaSitter,” Kelly replied slowly. “Is Blythe around?”

  “She and Clive showed up at breakfast this morning,” Donna answered. “I’ll just ping her and see if she’s free.”

  Aisha watched their faces closely, observing that the two older women’s speech had subtly changed over the last couple sentences, and she guessed that something related to spying was afoot.

  “Speaking of Drazens, I haven’t seen the office cleaners in a while,” Aisha ventured.

  “We only scheduled that service once,” Donna answered. “We’re hoping to give the work to a human cleaning service, as long as they can buy the appropriate supplies.”

  “Oh, that reminds me!” Aisha exclaimed, rising from the desk. Despite her involvement in the trade show, she was still doing her best to know as little about what was going on with the new intelligence agency as possible. “If you don’t need me for an hour or so, I haven’t shopped for dinner yet, and all the fresh vegetables will be gone soon.”

  “Go, go,” Kelly replied, and watched her softhearted daughter-in-law vanish out the door. “I’m going to feed the baby, Donna. If Blythe can’t make it, can you send somebody to tear Joe away from whatever he’s doing?”

  “Will do,” Donna replied with a wink, and keyed the door shut as she passed into the outer office.

  Left alone, Kelly picked up the baby, who was just starting to fuss, and began to nurse. After relaxing for a few minutes, something occurred to her, and she asked, “Libby?”

  “Welcome back to your office, Kelly. How can I help you,” answered the Stryx librarian’s familiar voice.

  “What’s the most valuable commodity in the galaxy?”

  “In the entire galaxy, or just in the parts connected by our tunnel network?” Libby responded.

  “The tunnel network parts.”

  “There are several ways of looking at it,” Libby replied, either pondering the question or trying to decide how much she should tell Kelly.

  “I’m not thinking about the ice market, or food and energy, so maybe commodity is the wrong word.” Kelly reflected for a moment and tried to clarify her query. “I’m thinking more about finished goods, the products the different species specialize in, where there are unique ingredients, special techniques, secret formulas, that sort of thing.”

  “Are you interested in individual items, like General Tso's Chicken, or broad categories, like take-out food?”<
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  “The broadest,” Kelly replied, wondering why Libby had chosen the particular example she did. “Like take-out food or clothing.”

  “Entertainment,” Libby answered with a single word.

  “That’s what I thought!” Kelly exclaimed. “I don’t ever hear about entertainment from my contacts on the station because none of them are in the business. But all the time I’ve been spending reading, listening to music and watching holo entertainment while I’m on leave got me wondering about it. I even tried a couple of alien romances in translation, but they read more like history or business books than like novels. Dring once told me that’s because human relationships are so irrational, and we expect plots to be even more exaggerated in our stories and plays. But I wondered whether the artistic output of other species finds a market beyond their native audience.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be spoiling anybody’s business if I told you that most species purposefully target their entertainment productions to meet the largest possible market,” Libby replied. “Critics complain that over millions of years, it’s led to homogenization of galactic cultures, and that’s why the documentaries on new species are so popular.”

  “Because the stories are new,” Kelly speculated.

  “Exactly,” Libby replied. “Even if you ignored books and games, the market for immersive productions from different species is the largest cash-flow item on the Stryx cred report that we issue once a cycle.”

  “Just out of curiosity, can you tell me what the biggest product is outside of Stryx space?”

  “Weapons,” Libby replied sadly. “Oops, you have visitors in the outer office. Time to burp the baby.”

  Kelly rose hastily, straightened her clothes, and walked to the door. She swiped the door lock and stepped through the opening just as Donna was showing Bork and an older Drazen to seats.

  “I hope we didn’t interrupt you,” Bork said, looking slightly embarrassed in the presence of a woman carrying a baby. “Donna was just telling us that you haven’t had our cleaning friends back recently.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Kelly admitted, “I was only expecting a, uh, social visit. Do you think we should head somewhere else?”

  “No, no,” Bork’s companion spoke up jovially. “I am Cultural Attaché Herl, though the women call me whatever they want.”

  “I’ve heard that somewhere before,” Kelly replied with a smile, extending her free hand to shake with Herl. “Please, come in. Bork, can you bring an extra chair?”

  “I can bring two extra chairs,” Bork replied, and proceeded to lift one in each hand. He gave a friendly wave to Donna with his tentacle as he followed Herl and Kelly into the inner office.

  Bork placed the two chairs in front of Kelly’s display desk and sat down in one, but Herl remained on his feet, displaying a pent-up energy that made Kelly wonder if he was going to burst into dance. He smiled at her and ostentatiously scratched behind his back with his left hand, which struck her as odd, since Drazens usually used their tentacle to deal with itches it could reach. Then she noticed that one of the buttons on the cuff of his shirtsleeve was blinking red.

  Herl did a slow circuit of her office, keeping up a knowledgeable patter about the human art that she had hung on the walls, which was all the more impressive for the fact that she hadn’t hung anything. He spent almost a minute admiring a non-existent vase in the corner, by the end of which time, Kelly had to blink to assure herself that it wasn’t really there. Finally, he examined the baby’s bassinet and made the appropriate cooing noises for Samuel, who favored him with a smile.

  “Did you see that?” Kelly asked, momentarily forgetting about the blinking red button. “That’s the first time he’s smiled for a stranger.”

  “I’m honored,” Herl replied sincerely, taking his seat. “I have to admit, there’s so much splendid art in this room that I don’t think I could talk about boring galactic business matters and pretend that it’s just not there.”

  “I understand,” Kelly replied, wondering how to convey the message to Blythe and Clive when they arrived. Then again, the two of them would likely recognize the situation right off, without the need for an elaborate play. “Is this your first time on Union Station?”

  “First time in a while,” Herl admitted. “Stations aren’t usually such interesting places for men in my profession. When I was new in my post, I thought that Stryx stations were the ideal place to meet aliens for cultural exchanges, but it turns out that the experience is quite diluted compared to that of encountering the different species on their home turf.”

  “I never thought of it that way,” Kelly admitted. “I suppose that’s because everything about the other species is so new to humans, and there are so many of you. We’re still in the survey stage, rather than trying to dig deeply into what makes you all tick.”

  “What makes us tick!” Bork exclaimed. “Excellent analogy. Didn’t I tell you she has a gift for language, Herl.”

  Kelly didn’t hear the cultural attaché’s response if he made one, because Donna took the same moment to inform the ambassador over her implant that Blythe and Clive had arrived. To her surprise, Blythe entered the room with Tinka, and Clive followed behind carrying the last two guest chairs from the outer office. Kelly quickly made the introductions between all parties, who judging from their reactions, seemed to know each other already by reputation. Herl held up his wrist with the blinking red light, causing Tinka’s eyes to narrow. Clive shrugged and Blythe didn’t react at all.

  “How generous of you to take time out of your busy day to talk with us about human culture on the station network,” Herl declared. “Your InstaSitter business is the envy of many a Drazen businessman. It’s funny how we older species fall into the habit of thinking that all of the good ideas have already been taken, before a new race comes along and proves us wrong.”

  “We couldn’t have done it without the Stryx infrastructure,” Blythe replied graciously. “Our build-out would have been much slower, and I doubt we could have coped with better financed competition from the older species. It’s not like we could keep it a secret after we started advertising.”

  “Yes, it’s interesting what one can learn through advertisements,” Herl concurred. “But there is so much media, so many ads. It would be quite expensive for a business to monitor all of them alone.”

  “Yes, it’s hard to do anything alone,” Blythe acknowledged carefully. “Even with my sister and the Stryx, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves relying on Tinka for help with daily operations.”

  “I heard from Bork that you made young Tinka a stakeholder in your business,” Herl responded. “I was very impressed that humans were already teaming with other species on the equity level. Some aliens have never come that far along.”

  “We’re great believers in team building,” Clive said, taking his wife’s hand as he spoke. “We both believe that good communications and trust are the secret to success. Right honey?”

  “Of course, and our management team has established those already with Tinka,” Blythe observed.

  “That makes perfect sense,” Herl replied, with a sidelong look at the young Drazen woman. “You know, it’s been a number of years since I played a sport myself, but I’ve always been struck by how much difference a leader can make, especially on a young team.”

  “We have so much to learn about Drazen culture and I’m not very familiar with your sports,” Clive responded cautiously. “I can tell you that for humans, the coach is viewed as such a critical position that our old nation states often hired coaches from competing countries, even for the teams that represented their nation.”

  “Interesting analogy,” Herl said. “In a sense, your people were much better prepared to encounter the array of species which populate our galaxy than those races who have achieved peace and uniformity before venturing out to the stars.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but sometimes I think humans are too adaptable,” Blythe replied, her eyes clo
sed in concentration. “It’s only been a few generations since Earth was opened, and there are still plenty of elderly people who remember the old world, but institutions that lose continuity lose knowledge as well. I was talking to our ambassador just the other day about the similarities between the interstellar ice harvesting treaty and the ocean treaties that established fishing quotas for nations on Earth. Of course, the need for regulation disappeared when the majority of the human population emigrated, but if there was a need to protect the oceans today, we’d have to rebuild that institutional knowledge from scratch.”

  Kelly pressed her hands to her temples, trying to keep up with the coded negotiations taking place inside of the conversation about team spirit and fishing. It was all a bit much for somebody who was officially still on maternity leave, but everybody else seemed happy with the progress, so she held her peace and wondered where Blythe had really learned about fishing treaties. It was the first time Kelly had ever heard anything on the subject.

  “It’s wise of you to recognize the importance of institutional knowledge,” Herl replied. “I understand that EarthCent is planning to establish its own program for cultural exchanges, and as the senior cultural attaché of the Drazen diplomatic service, I can assure you of our full support in getting started. In return, I hope Ambassador McAllister will put me at the top of her guest list any time she throws an embassy party.”

  “That goes without saying,” Kelly said, after she realized the long pause in the negotiations meant that everybody was waiting for her to speak. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’m sure you’ll be at the top of the list for all EarthCent embassy parties.”

  Bork positively beamed at Kelly, giving her an affirmative nod, and Herl smiled broadly. Blythe and Clive relaxed in their chairs, and Tinka looked pleased as well.

  “Thank you for allowing me to view your private art collection, Ambassador, and I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other at your trade show,” Herl declared, rising to his feet. “It was very nice to meet you also, Mr. and Mrs. Oxford, Tinka. I didn’t want to bore the ambassadors with my questions about the details of your babysitting business, but perhaps I can convince the three of you to return to my temporary office at the Drazen embassy and we can discuss all of the practical issues. I’m very interested in hearing about that old ship you salvaged as well.”