by E J Randolph
“On Old Earth they were a minority religious community persecuted by the adherents of the dominant religion of the region. Old Earth government donated a large generation ship, and most of the survivors left on the ship. When they made it to their planet, they named it God's Grace.” He snorted. “They should have named it God's Wrath.”
“Why?”
“Disease! Disease killed so many their society should have dissolved into chaos, but their religion saved them.” He shook his head. “I’m not a religious man, mind you, but I gotta admit their religion was a positive force. But these people are primitive. You can’t lose so many people and so many skills and keep much functioning. They were rediscovered ten years ago, and their society was at the subsistence agricultural level.”
I gasped.
He straightened and folded his hands as if in prayer. “We’re upgrading their technological level at a gradual pace under strict supervision. A designated person in the Ministry of Technology decides what they can have. Every level of technology is integrated before another is introduced.”
“That’s so much better than throwing everything at them at once. We now know the pitfalls accompanying forced-draft modernization. It causes societal dislocation and sometimes a backlash accompanied by violence.” I congratulated myself on remembering that last bit word for word from one of my diplomacy classes.
He nodded and looked at me like another soul mate in the cause of uplifting the human race. “It will only be for three days. Then the second officer will relieve you. You can start immediately. That little group you saw leaving my office as you arrived is the one. They’re waiting in the outer office.”
Them! Wow! I’d have to commo Pierre. Tell him. Tell him what? The truth, of course. Reschedule for tonight? Maybe. If he was willing. Three days wasn’t too bad. I still had most of six months. I could get through three days. And, now, well, this might prove interesting.
I stood and shook Moseley's hand. “It’s an honor to be part of such a well-conceived program.”
He beamed. “I will certainly put in a good word on your behalf.”
“Thank you.” Maybe it would work out for the best after all. I could always use a good report.
~ ~ ~
The small group waiting for me in the ambassador’s outer office dressed in clothes made from humble, home-spun materials dyed tan, brown, and black. They cinched their loose tops with wide belts. The men wore vests and walked in sturdy work boots. The woman draped a shawl over her shoulders that extended halfway down her floor length skirt. These people were so primitive, they could have been actors in a recreation. They turned simple, trusting faces to me.
“Hi. I’m your temporary Federation representative. I’ve been told you know where you need to go and what you need to purchase. You only need me to sign for everything.”
They smiled and nodded with shy smiles.
“Lead on then.”
They filed out of the office and I tagged along in the rear. A robotaxi waited on the street, and we got in.
I glanced around. “Where to?”
The younger, thirty something man leaned forward. “We have an appointment in two hours at the Department of Machines.”
“Two hours. We have time for lunch. Where do you want to go?”
“We ate breakfast at our apartment. Our usual guide normally decides where we go for lunch.”
I drew back. “But surely you have a preference.”
Surprise flitted across the man's face followed by a heavy impassivity falling down his features like a curtain on a stage. “Yes, we do.” He spoke with slow deliberation.
The woman grabbed his arm. “But we need to follow the rules.”
A short laugh erupted from my mouth. “No one told me the rules, so they don't apply today.” Little did they know how much I enjoyed saying that.
One of the old men stroked his beard. “We know where we would like to go.”
“Great! Give directions. This is a robotaxi.” I punched a button.
“Good day. Where can I drive you?” The melodious voice issued out of a speaker.
Thirty Something smiled. “The Riverside Cafe.”
The robotaxi slipped into the streets of Bella.
I glanced around. “I’d have an easier time talking if I knew everyone's names.”
One of the white beards shrugged. “The normal guides talk to Hoque here.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m different. I’ll start. My name is Kate Stevens.”
The woman smiled. “Mellock.”
Thirty Something tapped his leg. “Hoque.”
One of the white beards rubbed his beard. “Lukar.”
The second white beard frowned. “Bluvar.” He snarled his name like it was an arguable proposition.
Half an hour later we arrived at the Riverside Cafe on the outskirts of town, a rundown clapboard structure with outdoor tables shaded by large weeping willow type trees located on a slow moving, brown river. My wards tumbled out of the robotaxi and headed to the closest table.
I followed for a few steps, flipped open my wrist computer, and commo’d Pierre. My fingers shook. How would he take this? Would this be the end of things? My throat tightened.
The device clicked. “Yes?”
“Pierre?”
“That’s me.”
I didn’t say anything.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m working.” My voice took on a pity-me tone. “They set me to work. Can you believe it? I wasn’t supposed to do anything, but the second protocol officer is overloaded for three days.”
“Those things happen.” His voice was calm. “But I bet you’re free tonight.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Yes.”
“We’ll just have to make up for it tonight. Commo when you’re free. I’ll be looking forward to it all day. Anticipation will only heighten the fun.”
I chuckled. “You’re quite a charmer.”
“I’m not being charming. I mean it.”
“See you tonight.”
I clutched my hands together. He still wanted to see me. Yay!
I walked to my charges. A pleasant mix of aromas drifted out from the restaurant – real food fried, baked, and boiled. Fresh bread, various meats, and vegetables. My nose tilted up, and my mouth watered.
I passed behind the proprietor, a chubby, bald man in a massive, white apron taking my party's order. “I’ll pay for whatever they want with my universal credit.”
He shook his head. “I don't do credit.”
“What? How can you do business?”
He shrugged. “I only serve locals, so it doesn’t matter.”
Hoque glanced up. “We’ll cover for her.”
I blinked. “I’ll pay you back later.”
He grinned. “No, it’s on us.”
“No way. It’s not right.”
“You let us come here. We owe you.”
Hmm, rule breaking might have its upsides.
I gave my order and sat with the God's Gracers at their table near the dark, lazy river. The food arrived, and the smells mixed with that of the earth and river.
I ate and leaned back. “You’ve found a wonderful place here.”
Hoque smiled. “We’ve been coming to Bellasport for ten years, so we’ve found a few places we like.” He laid his fork down and his lips tightened. “Every time we come, it is to buy whatever Central chooses this time for us to have.”
I frowned. “Doesn’t anyone ask you what you need?”
“No.” His sharp reply cracked in the air. “They tell us what we want.” His eyes darkened, and a raw honesty filled his voice.
I cocked my head to the side. “From your perspective, how is your technological development progressing?”
He stiffened. “Every twelve standard months, a Federation team visits God's Grace.” He spoke with exaggerated precision. “They go over how well we use the latest equipment they’ve allowed us to purchase.”
Mellock mo
aned. “Oh, Hoque.”
He threw his napkin down. “It’s patronizing. They treat us like we’re idiots.”
I drew back. What happened to the scientific program of experts extending a helping hand to these backward people? “Do you object to how the Federation is guiding your development?”
“Guiding!”
Mellock touched his arm. “Be careful. They’re paying for our purchases.”
He grimaced. “But that’s it. They pay, so we accept their patronizing limits on what we can buy.”
“Hoque, please.”
“No more! I’m tired of the lies.”
I leaned forward. “Tell me more.”
He searched my face. “Are you really interested?”
“Yes.”
“We would like to buy generators, but because we don’t have oil or gas, we’ve been denied them.”
“That’s reasonable. You certainly couldn’t afford to import fuel.”
“That’s not the point. They’ve given us wind and solar, and that’s great most of the year. But, we have a two-month rainy season when we go without power. We shut down.”
I sucked my breath in. “I agree, that’s a problem.”
He drew back. “You agree?”
“Sure. I’ll sign for whatever you need.”
“I doubt you’ll get a chance. What they decide to give us is what we get.”
“By the way, how do you know you lack oil and gas?”
We do have hydrocarbons. Also rare earths, nonferrous metals, and uranium. The Federation did a survey but said we weren’t ready to exploit our resources.”
Bluvar bent his head toward Lukar, his hand cupped over his mouth. “Maybe we need to look beyond the Federation.”
I stiffened and stared into the distance. “I can get access to that report.” And if I couldn’t, Nick could.
Hoque flicked his hand. “So what?”
“I have contacts on Gorak, the big, mining planet.” I leaned back. “Maybe a joint venture. Circumvent the Federation bureaucracy.” And at the same time keep these people in the Federation.
Hoque’s mouth dropped open. “You would help us?”
“Yes, there is nothing like a faceless, meddling bureaucrat to get my blood up. But I’ll need assistance, the crew of my ship. I’ll have to ask them.”
Hoque stared at me.
“I’ll see what we can do. By the way, where to next?”
“The Ministry of Machines.”
“OK, let’s go.”
~ ~ ~
I settled into the seat of the robotaxi and waved at Hoque, “Go ahead. Give the destination.”
“Department of Machines.”
“I am not familiar with that location.” The robotaxi’s voice had a mechanical tone.
“All Things Mechanical Warehouse.”
“Thank you. I will take you there.”
Hoque shook his head. “It’s hard to remember these cars are so literal.”
“Yeah, no brains at all.” Like some Federation bureaucrats who made rules and procedures and didn’t check to see if they were relevant to individual circumstances.
We arrived at the large, crowded warehouse on time. The building was filled with various trade missions. I headed to the payment counter, but my party went to the back of a long line.
I frowned and walked to them. “Don't we have an appointment?”
“No, not with anyone in particular. We just have to be here at two o'clock.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s on our schedule.”
I shook my head. Who was making these things up?
We inched our way to the front of the counter. The harried clerk nodded at us. “We have the order. It’s been filled, and it’s waiting on Dock C. Needs a signature and approval from a Federation rep.”
I leaned over. “That’s me.” I pressed my thumb on the screen, and the computer verified my identity.
“Now it can be delivered. That would be to Spaceport P, Federation Cargo ship, the Whale.”
Hoque nodded.
I stomped out of the building followed by my charges. Outside I whirled on them. “Do you realize we wasted forty-five minutes to have me verify that order. Has no one done an efficiency study on this?” I looked into their simple, trusting faces. “Can’t you see? This is all a charade. You don’t get to participate in the decisions, so why not deliver directly to your planet? Why have you come here to stand in line?”
They bowed their heads.
I shook my head. Why do this to these people? They weren’t stupid. No wonder they were frustrated and angry. Had they considered joining the non-aligned movement? Not good.
Lukar fingered his beard. “It’s thought we need to learn how it’s done so that someday we can come here and buy like everyone else.”
“Is there no way you can ask for or get a generator?”
“No.”
I folded my arms and tapped my foot. Surely there was something I could do. Everything was computerized. Maybe I could order one. “Follow me.”
I headed inside and pushed my way through the crowds until I got to a bank of computer screens. A burly merchant laid his hand on the back of a chair in front of the only empty screen. I slid into the chair. He frowned and opened his mouth. I flashed my sleeve with my insignia on it. “Federation business.” His face twisted with disgust, and he walked away.
I looked up power generators and found a self-contained, under one megawatt, portable. I commo'd Nick. “I need your expert opinion. What do you think of a portable, nine hundred kilowatt, transuranic isotope decay, electrical generator?”
He was silent a few seconds. I imagined an internal mental screen flickering as he scrolled through pages of data in his brain.
“They are reliable. Work under full load for about fifty or sixty years. Zero maintenance. They were developed to power remote data acquisition transmission systems. Why?”
“I’m pulling a fast one for a good cause, for some poor people the Federation bureaucracy is, um, hindering. They can’t blow up or anything, can they?”
“Not unless the people operating them can violate the laws of physics.”
I laughed. “These people don’t even know those exist.”
“Oh?”
“Tell you about it later. Thanks, Nick.”
I punched in a requisition. The computer asked for a billing office, and I typed in Really Big's office. I chuckled. That would come as a surprise. But, what else could I do? I didn’t have time to consult anyone back on Central, and the local embassy merely signed off on the purchases. Something needed to be done now.
I turned to the God's Gracers clustered around me. “Would twenty of these be enough?”
Mellock smiled. “How about twenty-five?”
“Done deal.”
I ordered twenty-five generators, routed the delivery to their cargo ship, and waited for the order confirmation. I chuckled with the thrill of successful defiance, feeling like I did when I was eleven and slid down the banisters of the emergency stairwell in the monad where I grew up. I broke sixty kilometers per hour as well as twenty rules.
The confirmation appeared on the screen. “There. That should hold you until something can be worked out with Gorak.” I marched out, my chin held high as if I were leading a victory parade.
We got into the robotaxi, and I searched the directory on the local planetary internet. “Aha! Gorak. In the Mining Planets Consular Building. We’ll go there tomorrow morning.”
Mellock shook her head. “We have an economics development class we’re supposed to attend.”
“Consider this a practicum. When is this class anyway?”
“Ten o'clock.”
“No problem. We’ll go to the Gorak office at eight o'clock. That way no one official needs to know what we’re up to.”
They smiled and nodded in agreement.
I tapped the side of the robotaxi. “Do you think you can get home on your own?”
Hoq
ue nodded. “I know how to direct the robotaxi.”
“Good. I’ll get out here. I have plans for the evening.”
~ ~ ~
Their robotaxi disappeared down the street, and I commo'd Pierre. “Hi, its me.”
“Kate.”
A tingle swept up my body. “I’m off duty. Still want to get together?”
“Sure do. I bet you’ve not eaten dinner. Meet me at the Tower to the Stars.”
Across the street a small garage of robotaxies serviced the huge warehouse and its customers. I called one up, and it shot out of the garage and crossed the street, stopping right in front of me. “Where to?” It spoke with a friendly, male voice.
“Tower to the Stars.”
The vehicle whizzed through the streets, took the corners fast, drove down some alleys, and stopped on a dime in front of a ritzy looking establishment. “Got you there in record time. Had good luck with the traffic.”
I punched in my universal credit code for the fare and gave the taxi a tip.
“Thanks. I’ll get a wax and shine.”
I laughed and got out on shaky legs.
The shiny, silver, self-propelled vehicle gave me two hoots on its horn and took off.
A short distance away Pierre waited for me. My breath caught in my throat. He strode toward me with a wide smile and swept me in a quick embrace. “You look great!”
Every nerve ending I had shot off fireworks.
He gave me a quick kiss. “Dinner waits.” He grabbed my hand and walked with me to the entrance.
A doorman opened the door. I glanced at Pierre.
He nodded. “Yes, it’s a fancy place. Not my usual, but the food is good. I mean, it’s real food. Comes from the ground or on the hoof or with fins. Unfortunately, the service inside is all robotic. You’ll see what that means.” He cocked a thumb at the doorman. “Some of the androids are good, real good.”
A maitre'd minced toward us. He struck me as human enough, but he wove his way through the crowd with too much grace and pulled out our chairs with one finger.
I leaned over. “Are the cooks human?”
“The head cooks, yes, but the sushi cooks are, um, machines.” He rubbed his chin. “Reminds me of some sushi robots I watched once. They tossed veges in the air with one hand, sliced them with the other, and could stir the wok with one finger. Quite a show. But, that’s what people came to see, the show.” He scrunched his face. “But the food was mediocre. Robots can be quick but they can’t be creative.” He glanced at the menu on the screen built into the table. “The food here is simple but exquisitely prepared.”