Family Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 12)

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Family Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 12) Page 20

by E. M. Foner

Inside the ice harvester, the ambassador was directing Daniel and Thomas in handing boxes of books out of Dorothy’s room, even while she gathered up clothes that were piled on the girl’s bed.

  “She wasn’t supposed to be back until next week,” Kelly apologized. “It’s just that her room makes such a convenient staging area that I couldn’t help taking advantage to reorganize some things.”

  “It’s not like you rented it out,” Thomas reassured her. “Chance and I are happy to help. We were already on our way to the training camp to work on a new hologram when Clive pinged about the meeting.”

  “Where did you want these?” Blythe called from the living room.

  “Just stack the books in front of the shelves for now, and throw the dirty clothes on the floor of the laundry room. I can’t believe how I let things get so backed up, but this is the last batch. I’ll just change her sheets and I’ll be right out.”

  “Sorry we’re late,” Lynx said, entering the ice harvester with Woojin and the baby. “Are you guys moving or something?”

  “Covering up is more like it.” Joe set down the box of books he was carrying and pointed at the baby. “Is she cleared for high level intelligence?”

  “She’s smarter than her father, if that’s what you mean,” Lynx shot back. “Em. Who’s a big worrywart?”

  “Dada!”

  “And do you swear to uphold the values of EarthCent and the cause of humanity?” Blythe adlibbed from the EarthCent Intelligence oath.

  “Mama?”

  “Close enough,” Lynx said, giving Em a kiss. “Where do you get all the new books from, anyway? They must have cost a fortune.”

  “Kelly’s mom goes to estate sales and sends us a few more in every diplomatic pouch,” Joe replied, while moving a couple of carbon fiber chairs from the dining room table into the living room area. “They add up pretty fast.”

  “All right. If everybody will grab a seat, we can get started,” Clive announced. “I’m sorry for the short notice, but I received an intelligence update from our Drazen friends an hour ago that agrees with our own assessment. The Vergallians plan to offer the Alts a place in their empire.”

  “The Alts will never go for it,” Daniel predicted, settling onto the couch. “It’s all about family with them. Shaina and I have been taking groups from their delegation around the Shuk, and when they found out that Shaina’s father owns Kitchen Kitsch, they insisted on buying things from him just to honor the connection. It drove Peter nuts because they don’t know how to haggle. It was pretty funny watching him drive a hard bargain with himself in hopes of teaching the Alts how a real market works.”

  “Sounds to me like they were employing a successful tactic,” Blythe said.

  “And I’m not sure I see the connection between buying kitchen gadgets and rejecting the Vergallian offer,” Clive added.

  “The whole concept of making deals seems to have escaped the Alts. They expect everybody to function like a fairy-tale family with shared goals, which hardly describes the Vergallians. None of the other species understand how the Alts were able to develop an advanced technological society without a hierarchical government. It’s not normal for humanoids.”

  “They are incredibly cooperative,” Lynx said. “At first I thought it’s just that they have a highly developed sense of empathy, but talking to them, they have no tradition of conflict at all.”

  “Every one of the Alts I’ve interviewed with would get top scores on our InstaSitter test,” Blythe contributed. “But we’re worried they might accept the Vergallian offer without really understanding what it means. Abeva is smart enough to make it look like an invitation to join a larger family, and if they’re as susceptible to pheromones as we are, she could try to influence Methan to champion their proposal.”

  “I already warned him about that,” Daniel said. “What worries me is that they’ve been putting off making any deals with business groups from my sovereign human communities. I can understand being cautious, but the Alts all take the line that they can’t make any commitments before putting the matter before everybody back home. Do they intend to decide every little thing with some kind of planetary vote?”

  Kelly set a tray of snacks on the coffee table and perched on the edge of her Love-U massaging recliner. “What puzzles me is why their youngest children get upset whenever one of us enters the room. You’d think that they would be more comfortable with adults who look like their parents, but one of their little girls ran to hide behind Ambassador Crute when I asked her name.”

  “I don’t believe they’ve attempted to conceal anything from us,” Thomas said. “As near as I can tell, they aren’t capable of even minor deceptions.”

  “I don’t suspect Methan, I suspect the Stryx,” Kelly insisted stubbornly. “I can always tell when they’re trying to get away with something.”

  “I feel like I’ve been operating as a real cultural attaché for the first time,” Lynx said. “Everything about the Alts fascinates me, and their traditions echo our own in funny ways. It’s like we started out on the same road, but took different turns at some point. Did you know why all of their young women have that long braid?”

  “Hadn’t noticed,” Clive admitted.

  “It’s for courting. The young man grabs the girl’s braid in one hand…”

  “Neanderthals!” the ambassador interrupted.

  “No, it’s really very sweet,” Lynx protested. “It’s a substitute for grooming since they don’t have bugs in their hair.”

  “They’re Neanderthals,” Kelly reiterated, her voice rising in pitch. “Our Neanderthals. The Stryx took them from Earth and gave them their own planet.”

  There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and then Clive asked, “Is this just a gut feeling, or do you have evidence? I thought that Neanderthals died out tens of thousands of years ago.”

  “I’m sure of it,” Kelly insisted. “That’s why the Farling said we could be two-thousandth cousins. I thought he was just making fun of me, but it all fits together. Haven’t you noticed that when you talk with Alts about our respective worlds we always understand each other? There aren’t any of those awkward translations, like, ‘an eight-legged animal with orange stripes on blue fur.’ I should have known there was something fishy when Methan said that their translation devices were designed for communicating with dogs and dolphins. Everybody has dogs, but dolphins?”

  “Squirrels!” Lynx exclaimed. “All of the Alts loved that propaganda immersive the pirates produced, and two different women told me that the squirrel with the eyepatch reminded them of the ones that raid their birdfeeders back home.”

  “The Farling took a blood sample,” Kelly recalled suddenly. “Somebody has to go and talk to him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Lynx volunteered. “I was going to bring Em by to see him anyway. She loves visiting her Uncle Beetle.”

  “And I’m going to talk to Stryx Wylx,” Kelly said. “Maybe I can finally get something out of her.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Chance said. “I know that history isn’t my strong suit, but why would the Stryx take the Neanderthals from Earth tens of thousands of years ago and move them to a hidden planet?”

  “Might have been that the end of the Ice Ages was doing them in and the Stryx didn’t want to see them die out,” Joe suggested.

  “Shouldn’t they all have protruding foreheads and be covered with hair if they’re Neanderthals?” Woojin asked.

  “Who knows how they would change over a few thousand generations on a new world without any competition,” Kelly said. “I listened to a Dollnick salesman explaining climate control to the Alts at the exposition, but apparently they’ve never given the weather a thought because it’s always mild on their world.”

  “I think it would be best to put off checking with the beetle until the Alts have gone,” Clive cautioned. “I can just imagine what the other species would make of this if it leaks out. The press conference is just over an hour away, and if Kelly’s right
, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Stryx originally moved them because our ancestors were killing them off.”

  “Too late for that,” Bork said from the door. “Sorry to show up unannounced, but I couldn’t reach you, so I thought I’d try dropping in.”

  “My fault,” Joe said, getting up and going over to an antique radio cabinet where he flipped a switch. “I turned on our electronic countermeasures out of habit.”

  “How much did you hear, Bork?” Kelly asked.

  “Just what Clive said. It was enough to tell me that you’ve already figured out what I just learned from our own intelligence people.”

  “You ran genetic tests on us without saying anything?”

  “Of course not, Ambassador,” Bork replied with dignity. “We spied on the Hortens who ran genetic tests on the Alts and compared them to samples they no doubt took from your people decades ago. Given your similarity to the Alts and your ability to eat most of the same foods, I’m positive that the Vergallians will have done the same by now, but we haven’t been able to crack their codes.”

  “And the Hortens say that we’re definitely from the same world?” Clive asked.

  “Their test results indicate that over ninety-nine percent of your nucleotide sequences are identical to those of the Alts, if you can trust the scientists of a species that accidentally altered its own genome. And not only do you share a common ancestor in the distant past, but some of your more recent forbearers interbred not too long before the Stryx moved the Alts to their own world.”

  “Was there anything else in the Horten intercept that you can share?”

  “Nothing important,” Bork said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “I’d better get going if I’m going to be in time for the press conference.”

  Kelly moved quickly to cut off the Drazen ambassador’s exit. “They compared us to each other, didn’t they?”

  “You came out very well by some measures. Despite the Alt’s superior technology, the Hortens dismissed them as having no potential for becoming military allies.”

  “Come on, Bork. You know we’re going to hear it sooner or later, so you may as well tell us now.”

  “Well, the report did go on a bit about just how nice the Alts are. And there might have been a little speculation about why the Stryx felt compelled to move them off of Earth in the first place.”

  “I knew it. I’ll bet the Hortens are saying that the Stryx saved the Alts from us.”

  “The Hortens also believe that the Stryx saved you from the Vergallians,” Bork pointed out. “They never bought into the whole economic apocalypse argument, even though your situation was clearly in dire straits. Now I really do have to run because it takes forever to get into my fancy dress uniform. Welcome home, Dorothy,” he added, as the girl entered the ice harvester.

  “Thank you, Ambassador. Dressing up for something?”

  “Big press conference,” Bork said, and leaned in close to Dorothy to whisper, “Your mother was a bit underdressed at the last event, if you take my meaning.” Then he headed down the ramp just in time to avoid being trapped by Kevin, Samuel and Vivian, all of whom were burdened by boxes.

  “So, when is this press conference?” Dorothy asked, looking around at the gathered EarthCent staff. “Are we the hosts?”

  “The Alts are the hosts, though the Stryx are paying,” Blythe told her. “I suppose the rest of us should be leaving so you have time to get ready, Ambassador. There’s nothing we can do about the Alts being Neanderthals at this point, so we’ll have to play it by ear.”

  The others took Blythe’s cue and followed the Oxfords out, leaving the McAllister family and Kevin a chance to catch up. Instead, Dorothy overrode her mother’s ineffectual protests and herded her into the bedroom to don a formal gown. “And don’t you dare come out in flats,” the girl admonished her mother.

  Joe joined his wife a few minutes later looking sheepish. “I’ve been instructed to wear one of those jackets Dorothy got me. Do you remember how to tie a tie?”

  “Ask Dorothy,” Kelly replied, strapping on high heeled shoes for the first time in over a year. “I’ve got to practice walking.”

  “What do you really make of the Stryx evacuating the Neanderthals, Kel?” Joe asked after donning his dress-jacket. He rolled up a tie and put it in his pocket.

  “I tried pinging Libby a few times, but she says the Alts are Wylx’s project, and then she clams up.”

  “So what does Wylx say?”

  “She puts me off by asking if I have any more advice for raising Spinner. I never thought a Stryx could be so infuriating.”

  “My ears are burning,” Jeeves declared, floating past the bedroom door.

  “I wasn’t talking about you,” Kelly replied in irritation. “Are you here to gloat about how the human relatives we thought were extinct and whose very name came to mean ‘primitive’ ended up being peaceful geniuses who beat us to developing their own faster-than-light-drive?”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, though you make a compelling argument. I was invited by Samuel to pick up a package that Ailia sent me, and I was going to stop in anyway because Dorothy is ignoring my pings.”

  “What did my daughter do now?” Joe asked, prepared to be amused at the Stryx’s expense.

  “She committed me to a large expenditure on unproven heel technology,” Jeeves replied. “The bills from Chintoo are already mounting up.”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” Kelly said. “Bork told us that the Hortens never bought the argument that the Stryx opened Earth because of our economic problems. They think you did it to keep us from getting absorbed into the Vergallian Empire.”

  “I wasn’t even alive yet, you know.”

  “Don’t give me that. Libby puts me off on Wylx and Wylx—it doesn’t matter. I’m asking you straight out why the Stryx find Earth so interesting.”

  “Hey, Jeeves,” Samuel said, emerging from his own room. He handed over the package that Kevin had given him. “Ailia sent this for you.”

  “Just in time,” the Stryx replied, grabbing it with his pincer. “I’d love to stay and chat, Ambassador, but I have to be in court on a serious matter. Please tell Dorothy that we’re having an urgent meeting at our offices in one hour.”

  “Coward,” Kelly yelled after him.

  Twenty

  “If you’re too tired after coming through the tunnel, we could do this another time,” Shaina offered.

  “I’m wide awake,” Dorothy replied, and gave Kevin’s shoulder a shake. “He’s the sleepy one.”

  “If you’re sure,” Brinda said. “I’ve been waiting to ask if you actually tried on any shoes that used the Verlock heels.”

  “The prototype pair the inventor brought to Chintoo was designed for his wife. I would have had to put on combat boots first or my feet would have been swimming around in them.”

  “The Verlock showed a holo of his wife walking through an obstacle course in the heels,” Kevin explained tiredly. “He even poured out a bag of marbles on the floor to demonstrate the gyroscopic correction feature.”

  “I’m sure his wife must have loved that,” Shaina said. “Jeeves disappeared for a couple of days after Ug contacted us, and he brought back some of the samples that the inventor left behind on Chintoo. The technology is impressive, but we aren’t sure how it will work in practice. Think about when you’re dancing with a partner and he dips you. What if the heels try to keep you upright?”

  “That’s just programming,” the girl said dismissively. “How hard can it be to tell the difference between a dance move and a loss of balance?”

  “That depends on who’s dancing,” Flazint said. “I’m looking forward to trying the shoes myself, and I might have gotten into the Verlock pair with a just little padding, but imagine if you put them on Chance.”

  “Chance would never buy them because she’s got built-in gyroscopes already. And we don’t have to include all three of the advanced features in every pair. Just the memory-meta
l adjustable height will let us compete with the ‘S’ design that the Vergallians sell for big creds.”

  “What was the third feature?” Affie asked.

  “A dynamically adjusted heel-tip area to prevent the Verlock women from poking holes in the floor. But it’s not about the wearer’s weight, it’s about the interaction at the surface. The tip of the heel will flatten out so that you or I could walk on grass or sand without taking off our shoes.”

  “I like walking in grass and sand barefoot,” Flazint protested.

  “Barefoot is okay if you don’t mind being short.”

  “We really think that they have great potential, Dorothy, and we’ve already discussed rolling out the features in stages,” Shaina said. “Combining them in different ways will give us seven different models, which means seven price points. The easiest feature for manufacturing is the memory-metal height adjustment, and Ug has already started on an initial order.”

  “I thought he said it would take like five months.”

  “That was for the full-featured heel. The other advantage to breaking the development into stages is that it spreads out the cost for us.”

  “You mean for Jeeves. Where is he, anyway?”

  “Right here,” the Stryx said, floating through the doorway. “I was busy fulfilling my duties under the powers vested in me by, well, by being me.”

  “What could be more important than new heel technology?”

  “You do know that your mother is attending a press conference for the departing Alt mission as we speak.”

  “So what’s your point?”

  “I wish you luck in your marriage,” Jeeves said to Kevin.

  “Oh, so now you’re saying I’m difficult?” Dorothy demanded.

  “No, I’m offering my con—is it my imagination or is your metabolism running fast?” The Stryx moved closer to Dorothy, who tried to look nonchalant and failed. “Do I detect a banned Farling substance in your bloodstream?”

  “It’s a prescription for Zero-G sickness. We just got out of the tunnel a couple of hours ago.” Then her mind caught up with the Stryx’s previous sentence, and she demanded, “Were you about to offer Kevin condolences on being my boyfriend?”

 

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