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The Ambassador Calls Twice (A Federation Story)

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by E J Randolph




  THE AMBASSADOR

  CALLS TWICE

  A Federation Diplomat Story

  E J Randolph

  randolphweb.wordpress.com

  Copyright 2017 Elizabeth Randolph

  All rights reserved.

  Acknowledgments

  I thank my mother and Kate Rauner, author of the Mars series, for reading and commenting.

  randolphweb.wordpress.com

  Books in Federation Diplomat Series

  Retrograde

  Ore Pirates

  The Dead Don’t Believe

  Table of Contents

  BOOK ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BOOK TWO

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BOOK ONE

  FORCED

  INTERRUPTION

  CHAPTER ONE

  *<>*

  M Y LARGE and physically fit boss stared out the window. I grimaced and shifted my weight. To my left a framed fragment of a flag with charred edges and a small piece of bent metal on black velvet hung on the wall. Dared I ask him about them? No, not today. I was here for my next mission. My throat tightened. He was my boss, my mentor, my sometimes friend, but he could and would sacrifice me to the needs of the Federation of Planets if the occasion should arise. Three missions under this guy, and none of them had played out as planned. Would the next be any better?

  He turned to me, his chair squealing a protest, and slammed a hand onto his desk. “I’ve had a series of chats with the people upstairs about you.”

  Oh, no! They’d found something wrong in my conduct of affairs on that last mission. But how could they? No one in the crew would talk.

  “There were a few questions about the mass hysteria you referenced in your report.”

  I opened my eyes wide. “Everything is in the report.” An angel’s voice couldn’t have sounded more innocent.

  “The ambassador reports you and the crew were behind it.”

  I arched my eyebrows and mouthed a silent “Oh.”

  He searched my face and leaned back. “Never mind. We need to talk about your next assignment.” He frowned and tapped his desk.

  What had I done? Who was mad at me? I felt like bug with a boot heel poised over its head.

  “We finally agreed to send you on a six month TDY as third protocol officer...”

  I clenched my eyes closed and tried to breathe. I’d been demoted.

  “To Bellasport.”

  My eyes snapped open.“What?”

  “A vacation posting. You’ll have nothing to do.”

  I squinted. “Did you say six months on Bellasport?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whoopee!” I ran around the desk and hugged the big guy. A chuckle erupted from his barrel chest, and I took a step back. “Is there a catch?”

  “No.” He looked me straight in the eyes and pressed his lips together. “On second thought, yes, there is. You tell me what happened on your last mission, and you and the crew get six months on Bellasport.” He jabbed his index finger at me. “Remember, I’ve been in the field. I know when I’m getting a snow job.”

  A daddy-long-leg-spider shiver of fear ran up my back. “I may have bent regulations a little.”

  “You got the job done. That’s all that matters to me.”

  I shuffled to my chair, folded my hands in my lap, and took a deep breath. Images from Bellasport tourist holos flicked into my mind. No, better not think about going there. The truth would get me kicked out of the service.

  “Whatever you tell me stays with me. Remember, your official report has already been accepted.” His voice had a determined, grounded sound.

  I stared at the floor. Could I trust him? What choice did I have? “Alright, I’ll tell you.” I gave him a full report of my last mission with all the details I’d omitted from my official report including the miracle we’d created. Half an hour later I bit my lower lip and studied a crack in the syncrete floor.

  He laughed, a full belly laugh, and slapped the desk. “That’s good. Very creative.”

  My head snapped up.

  “You deserve R&R at Bellasport. It’ll keep you up to operational readiness. While you’re there, the crew can do routine maintenance on the space ship. They have excellent facilities.” His smile faded and he tapped his desk. “Six months is all I could work out. Better get going and enjoy your time off.”

  Adrenaline surged, and my fingertips and toes tingled. I jumped out of my chair. “I’d better get to the spaceport and help load.”

  His smile turned lopsided. Did he feel uncomfortable giving out goodies? I’d better leave before his mind changed. I charged out of his office, ran down the hall, and pounded on the elevator button. The car was three floors away. I tore open a side door and bounded down the stairs.

  Outside I commo'd for a robotaxi. I tapped my foot and glanced down the street. All the buildings were built with low, horizontal lines symbolizing the connectedness of human societies. I blew headquarters a kiss. Today I could afford to feel benevolent… maybe even a little connected.

  But not calm. Across the street, construction crews pounded and laser welded on an expanded office of intellectual property. Large trucks rumbled down the street hauling the ever so useful and ubiquitous epoxy and dirt syncrete.

  A few minutes later a robotaxi glided up to me, its silver, bullet shape shiny in the afternoon sun. I jumped in and the seat adjusted to my shape.

  “Where to?” The voice was a melodious alto.

  “Spaceport. Hanger 18.”

  The robotaxi maneuvered through traffic and stopped at the spaceport security kiosk. I showed my orders to the guard, and he waved me in. The robotaxi drove past large, cavernous hangers built with semi-translucent materials reflecting the bright blue of today’s sky. At Hangar 18, I entered the code for my universal credit account and exited, squinting in the bright sunlight.

  “Have a good day.” The robotaxi’s tone was perfunctory.

  “A good day to you, too.” The response slipped out without thought. Wait a minute. Did I just wish a robotaxi a good day?

  “Thank you. So many of my riders think I’m only a machine and don't return my greetings.”

  I shook my head. Who was programming the robotaxis today?

  I headed to the large hangar door. The guys of the crew would be here, living onboard as usual. How could they stand it? My apartment might cost me a bunch, but it was well worth it.

  I stepped into the dim interior. Only one spaceship occupied the hangar. A bright work light illuminated her nose art – a curvaceous female picking the pocket of a surprised sailor with Miss Appropriation below in block letters. I grinned. It was good to see Miss A again.

  The gangway was down, and I made my way to the door. No, wait. Time to lose my landlubber ways. I made my way to the main hatch and popped my head into the passageway. “Anyone here?”

  “Over here.” The yell came from behind me.

  I grinned and skipped to the hanger floor. “I have our new assignment.”

  John strode over, his strong command presence preceding him like a physical aura. Dan set down a box marked with a red cross and ambled toward me, giving me a gentle smile. Ricardo charged over like I’d just announced a competition for best pilot in the Federation. Nick popped out of the hatch and frowned at the gizmo he held in his thin hands. He made a couple of adjustments and carried it to the hangar floor.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Are you all eager to get our next assignment? Don't tell me you’ve been bored in port.”r />
  Ricardo rubbed a sculpted bicep. “You know us. Real hard chargers.” He feigned falling exhausted into a chair.

  I stood straight and scowled. “The next mission is of the highest importance.”

  John squinted, Ricardo crossed his arms, Dan gazed at me, and Nick looked into the distance.

  “An arduous six month rotation” –I suppressed a smile– “on Bellasport.”

  Ricardo jumped out of his chair. “What?”

  Dan smiled. “Great!”

  Nick bounced his gizmo.

  John’s eyebrows shot up. “Did you just get the word?”

  “Yep, straight from Really Big’s mouth.”

  “Excellent! We should have orders on the computer by now.” He ran up the gangway and disappeared into the hatch.

  Ricardo put his arms around an imaginary partner and twirled, eyes closed and lips pursed as if kissing.

  I laughed. Maybe I could do something about my zero romantic life. Surely with all the vacationers and business people flocking to Bellasport, I could find someone.

  Nick rocked back and forth on his heels. “I hear they have some of the newest high-tech items from Tekerone for sale.”

  Dan threw me a thumbs-up.

  John reappeared at the top of the gangway. “Orders just arrived, so we can leave immediately.”

  Ricardo stopped dancing. “Better take them up on it. Someone's mind might change.”

  I chuckled. “My thought exactly.”

  John put his hands on his hips. “Need to inventory and order supplies, supervise loading, and run diagnostics on Miss A.”

  We headed into the spaceship. I assisted Dan ordering supplies, and Nick and Ricardo ran the critical maintenance check out.

  John entered data in the computerized forms and filed for a roll-out and transit authority through the flicker space portal. He shook his head. “We spend so much time on these forms, it endangers our ability to be ready.”

  I shrugged. “Its part of the jobs, jobs, jobs effort. Someone has to check off all your forms.”

  “The pile is so impressive, I’m sure no one looks at each form. There is a saying that goes all the way back to Old Earth, back to the days when anything in the air was called a flying machine – When the weight of the forms equals the gross take off weight of the aircraft, you’ll be cleared for takeoff.”

  I chuckled. “At least now it’s not paper. The forms exist only as electrons.”

  “Yeah, like that’s a real comfort.”

  ~ ~ ~

  That evening I took a robotaxi to my apartment. On the way I checked my calendar. Uh-oh, I’d accepted an invitation to Meredith’s party this weekend. I’d have to cancel. I commo’d her on my wrist computer. “This is Kate.”

  “So glad you’re coming to my big bash.” I winced as her loud boisterous voice blared out of my wrist computer.

  “I can't make it. I'm on vacation.”

  “Then of course you can make it.”

  “I’ve been assigned to the Bellasport embassy as third protocol officer for six months. Isn't that great? I’m not supposed to do anything. That’s the bureaucratic cover for a vacation posting.”

  “Uh, Kate.”

  “Yes?”

  “You know I’ve been around. Twenty years in the diplomatic service. Perhaps I shouldn’t say anything.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Most of the time this kind of posting works out.”

  I groaned.

  “Right. Other times, well... you’re the lowest person on the totem pole.”

  “Yeah? How so?”

  “Anything goes wrong, you get called in. It happens. I’ve heard of it happening more than once. Say all the cleaning staff quits, you get to clean the toilets, metaphorically speaking of course.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know how often this happens?”

  “As I said most of the time it works out. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, but I just thought you should be forewarned.

  “Is there anything I can do about it?”

  She laughed, a big, hearty laugh. “No way. You’re officially on the embassy roster. The ambassador can ask you to do anything. But don't worry. Most of the time it works out.”

  I gulped. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. Gotta run. See you around. You’re going to miss a great party. Hope you get that vacation you’re expecting.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  I commo'd off and rubbed my thighs. My dream vacation. How could it be? I shook myself. Don't worry. Hey, she said most of the time it works out. But it's me! Nothing ever works out as expected for me. I stuck out my lower lip in a moment of self-pity. Maybe I should investigate.

  I commo’d Ellen in personnel. “I heard vacation postings can sometimes turn into regular postings.”

  ”Who told you that ol' story? I have yet to hear of an actual example.”

  I blew out a breath. “Thanks. I’m off to my dream vacation, six months on Bellasport.”

  She whistled. “Nice posting. Good luck. Have fun. Wish I could go with you. I would lie on one of those great beaches, do absolutely nothing, and come back with a gorgeous tan.”

  I took a deep breath and commo’d out

  A few minutes later I exited the robotaxi at my apartment. Inside my long-haired gray cat turned her back and swished her luxurious tail. How did she know I was leaving? I hunched my shoulders. “It can’t be helped. Besides you like Suzanne and Mike.”

  She huffed and kept her back turned to me.

  “Okay. Have it your way. We’ll part on nonspeaking terms.”

  I slipped into jeans and a t-shirt and brushed my hair. Would Suzanne take Shebang on such short notice? I had no time to waste. I shoved Shebang into the cat carrier and took off down the hall to my neighbor.

  She opened the door and wiped her unkempt hair from her face. “Hi, Kate. We’re moving out in a few days. I’m giving up the apartment. My husband has been transferred.” She opened the door wide and pointed to the stack of boxes against the back wall.

  My stomach zoomed to my feet. “Oh no! Who will take care of the cat?”

  She patted my arm. “I’m sorry, really, I am. But Shebang is such a nice cat, I’m sure you can find someone to take care of her.”

  I swallowed hard. “I wish you well in your new location.” My words sounded far away, and I walked to my apartment on legs that had lost all feeling.

  Still numb, I let Shebang out of her carrier and sank into my comfy chair. I stared out the picture window at the trees and mountains until my eyes crossed.

  I shook myself. I had to do something. What if? No, it would be too irregular.... But they would love her. Everyone else does. I punched in the code on my wrist computer.

  “John here.”

  “Kate, uh– My words caught in my throat.

  “Something wrong?”

  “I have no place to leave my cat, and something occurred to me. We need a ship's cat.”

  He was silent.

  I grimaced. He was the captain of the ship. He had the authority to refuse non-regulation cargo or personnel. But I was the diplomatic head of the mission, therefore the objective of the journey lay within my realm of authority, and without a diplomat there was no reason for a courier ship to go anywhere.

  I smiled with as much appeal as I could muster though John couldn’t see me since I hadn’t turned on the video. “My only alternative is to board her. It would kill her. You see, she’s people oriented.”

  “Way back in the days of wind-powered, ocean-going vessels, every ship had at least one cat to eat the mice. I suppose they were a rough, tough, piratical bunch with one eye each and lots of claws.”

  Did cats have to prove they could work? “She has two eyes, and I’m sure she’s able to catch mice.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  My breath caught.

  “Where does the cat go potty?”

  I let my breath out. “She uses the same facility I do
.”

  “Then it’s settled.”

  “She can come?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. And Shebang thanks you.”

  “That's her name?”

  “Yes. You’ll see, it fits.”

  He laughed. “That’ll be soon enough.”

  “Right.”

  We commo'd out, and I sat still for a moment. I did it! I jumped up and grinned. “We’re both going.”

  Shebang padded over and rubbed against my leg. I ran my hand through her thick fur, and she purred. In my kitchen nook, I downloaded some programs for cat food from my food fabricator into my wrist computer.

  But what about me? I stood in front of my closet with my finger on my lips. How about a couple dresses with plunging necklines and a bikini? I packed them in my bag and gave it a soft kick. I wouldn't need a sexy, red dress if all I did was clean toilets for the next six months. Yuk! Stop it. All negative thoughts are banned.

  The next morning I arrived early at Hanger 18 and passed the guys leaving to pick up a few personal items and say good-bye to friends. I brought Shebang to my quarters and let her walk around. Half an hour later, I went forward to the control room and completed my end of the checklists.

  I sat back and rolled Bel-la-sport on my tongue, feeling like a kid about to open Christmas presents. Unlike stolid Central, Bellasport was the planet that never slept, with a night sky that glittered from dusk to dawn. I’d heard one of the diplomats at the local Federation embassy had tried to do everything available at night and failed. I shivered. How much more fun could it get? All I ever did was work, work, work. I was dulling down. For the next six months, I was not going to think about work. I would only think about fun.

  CHAPTER TWO

  *<>*

  T HE GUYS arrived in the control room, finished final preparations, and strapped themselves in. Ricardo rolled Miss A down the runway and lifted her into the early afternoon sky.

  At the prearranged coordinates, John punched a button in front of him and checked his gauges. “Flicker space transition complete.”

  I stood and stretched. How had Shebang reacted to the insertion into flicker space? No external sign marked our entrance into this space where we traveled faster than light, but flicker fever could be unpredictable and had resulted in ship disappearances.

 

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