by E J Randolph
He walked to his desk, picked up a screen, and brought it to me.
I punched in some commands, held my wrist computer to the unit for a microsecond, and the report blazed across its visual display.
He retrieved the screen from me, sat, and scrolled through the pages of the report. His body stiffened, and he checked back and forth for several minutes like I’d seen Pierre do the previous evening. He lay the screen on the table, leaned back, and clasped his hands on his lap, his face now a careful study of indifference.
I nearly laughed out loud. The old fox. He was out to get the best deal for Gorak. What was he going to pull?
He waved a dismissive hand toward the screen. “Well, we may have something here to discuss. You do have some resources that could be mined. As you undoubtedly know, however, the costs of mining can outweigh their value. A careful study will have to be made.”
Pierre bounced forward. “What’s this? I’ve taken a good look at that report, and the minerals and other resources are optimally placed for extraction activities with the technology common today.” He squinted. “The minerals on God's Grace are so optimal you can’t help make money.”
Jentor picked up his screen with a smooth, deliberate motion. “Let me look again.” He made a show of studying the charts and figures once more.
I swallowed my snort.
He laid his screen down. “As I said, careful study is necessary. There’s a lot of material in this report. This time I did see that at least as regards some of the minerals, mining cannot help but be successful.” He paused and lowered his eyelids. “Have you talked to anyone else about mining?” He spoke in a deceptively disinterested tone.
I studied my fingernails. “No, you’re the first. That’s because I have several contacts at the highest government level in Gorak. However, if you’re not interested…. There are others.”
Jentor drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and pursed his lips. He closed his eyes for several seconds. With explosive energy, he leaped up and went around to his side of his desk and pushed a button. He spoke a few soft words.
Another Gorakian entered the room. If anything this man was built broader than Jentor. He was a study in gray with steel gray hair a shade darker than his skin and his coveralls about the same color. He carried an aura of no-nonsense authority. Jentor whispered a few words to him, and he walked over and picked up the screen with the data from the Federation survey on it.
Ah! This was the man who would make the decision.
He studied the survey, his forehead wrinkled in concentration. Several minutes later, he lay the screen down and sat in the chair Jentor had vacated. He closed his eyes for a full two minutes.
None of us ventured a sound. We all leaned forward with bated breath.
He opened his eyes. “Ten year contract. We supply all the equipment and up-front capital. We train your people to take over the day to day activities in return for seventy percent of the profits. After ten years, we turn over all equipment and operations but retain thirty percent of the profits for another twenty standard years.” He spoke in a deep, gravely voice.
I winced and sucked in a harsh breath.
He tilted his head. “Do you have a counter proposal?”
“Yes. How about an even 50/50 split on the profit for the first ten years.” I stroked my chin and looked at the ceiling. “And ten percent for your company for the next twenty years.”
He shook his head. “I could never get that past my board of directors.”
Ah, he was blaming someone else. That was not going to play with me. “Maybe we can work out something that you know will pass your board. They normally take your recommendations, don’t they?” I smiled with sweet innocence.
He grunted.
I sat and waited.
A minute passed.
He shifted forward in the chair. “We take sixty percent of the profit for the first ten years and retain twenty percent for another twenty standard years.”
I stiffened. This sounded like a final offer. “Is that buyer pick up at God’s Grace.”
“Yes, we take care of shipping.”
I turned to the God's Gracers. “It is a good deal for both sides.”
Pierre flicked his hand. “Both sides will make money. It’s not rapacious.”
Hoque stood. “We need to talk.”
The God's Gracers walked to the other side of the room. Hoque spoke and chopped the air. Lukar and Bluvar asked questions. The little group fell silent.
I held my breath.
Lukar nodded, and the small group turned toward Bluvar.
The next few seconds seemed to stretch for minutes.
He nodded.
I let my breath out with a whoosh.
Hoque smiled and led the group back to the table. The two white-haired men brought up the rear with lowered heads. I understood. As members of the ruling council, they carried the weight of responsibility for the decision.
The small group sat around the low table. Hoque looked at Lukar and Bluvar. They nodded, and the younger man turned to the steel-gray Gorak. “We’ve decided to accept the offer.”
“Good.”
Jentor pointed at the steel-gray man. “This is Fan Manant, the CEO of the National Gorak Mining Company. He was here for other negotiations so we don't have to wait for the contract to be approved on Gorak. We can draw it up, and Fan can sign it right here, right now.” He glanced at Hoque. “I take it you also have the authority to sign.”
“Yes, I do, and I already have the approval of the majority of the ruling council.”
Bluvar and Lukar dipped their heads.
I clasped my hands. It was working out! Wonderful!
Jentor pulled up a standard contract form on his screen. He fired questions at Fan or Hoque and filled in the blanks.
I smiled at Pierre and he smiled back.
The God's Gracers had a better grasp on the costs of plant and equipment than I would have expected. They bargained with Fan as the various points were raised and didn’t allow new costs. How long had they itched to get started on mining? A few times I asked for clarification to prevent hidden costs shifting the balance of the deal.
The negotiations came to a close. The contract was completed and signed with copies printed for the God’s Gracers and sent to me and the library. A date was set for commencement of mining with Goraks arriving on God's Grace as soon as arrangements could be worked out.
I almost couldn’t believe it was all coming together so well and so fast. I was not alone. Hoque and Mellock wore big smiles.
Jentor stood. “Let’s do lunch.”
Mellock’s hands flew to her face. “Oh no! We missed the economic development class.”
I patted her hand. “Don't worry. You did a practicum. If no one asks, don't say anything. If someone asks, tell them something came up. Keep it as vague as possible.”
She giggled and glanced at Hoque.
Jentor raised his hands. “Champagne anyone? Caviar?”
I grimaced. I couldn’t stand fish eggs.
Jentor shook his head. Hoque and Fan ignored him and talked about details of the upcoming joint venture with wide gestures and excited tones of voice.
“Sure, I like it.”
“And how about this?”
Jentor made an exaggerated sigh.
Hoque turned a distracted face to Mellock. “Honey, why don't you tell him what you would like.”
She and Jentor ordered lunch from the small restaurant on the bottom floor. A short while later a casserole and cold drinks arrived.
Everyone continued to work out details between bites of food. The negotiations continued all day. The sun sat, and the signing and planning session ended. The Gorakians stood and bowed. We bowed back.
Mellock laid a hand on mine. “You’ve been so kind, will you and Pierre like to dine with us tonight?”
My training and experience dictated I accept. “Yes, I would like that.” I turned to Pierre. “Do you want to
go?”
He smiled. “Of course.”
The group of God's Gracers, Pierre, and I headed to the street and called up a robotaxi commodious enough for all of us to fit in. Bluvar gave it directions, and the robotaxi took off toward the large complex of apartments for official visitors to one side of the main spaceport.
These were two story, red brick structures designed for families who were not interested in ritzy hotels and all night entertainment. Certainly the God's Gracers fit that description. I relaxed in the seat while the taxi wove through the curving lanes to their apartment. We disembarked, and they paid with a Federation chit.
They led the way to the stairs to a second story apartment, and we entered a pleasant living/dining area.
Mellock swung toward the kitchen. “Come with me.”
Oh no! She was from a primitive, agricultural planet and would expect me to know how to cook. I was a hopelessly modern space lady who’d never learned how. I had no polite option other than to follow her.
Inside the kitchen, a food fabricator held sway on the counter. Oh good.
She ignored it and made her way with the intimidating certainty of someone who knows what they’re doing to the refrigeration unit where she removed a colorful array of vegetables.
I grimaced. What would she expect of me? “I have no culinary talents.” Surely she would be disgusted.
She smiled. “No problem. I just want to talk.” She ran water over the vegetables.
Whew! If there was something I could do, it was talk. I was good at it. And because I was a diplomat, that was part of the job.
She cut and chopped what appeared to be mushrooms, an avocado, carrots, potatoes, corn, onion, something resembling broccoli, and a few items I couldn’t identify. She smiled. “You have been most kind.”
“Any protocol officer should have determined the economic development office was not helping you.”
“No one before has ever been willing to listen. No, wait, there was one.” She stopped what she was doing for a second. “It was a woman. She listened but said she couldn’t change policy.”
I snorted. “I guess I just showed how easy it is to do that.”
A little nagging question scraped across my mind. What about my career? I grimaced. Why did I have to decide between doing the right thing and my career?
She poured a sauce over one vegetable, tossed another into the oven, and pureed something else and poured it into glasses.
A wonderful aroma pervaded the kitchen. My nose rose up and my nostrils widened. I took a deep breath. Mmm. My taste buds clamored. The smells were both familiar and exotic. How strange. Mellock had done nothing but simple preparations.
She handed me a small dish and led the way to the table carrying a large platter of assorted vegetables. At a word from her, Lukar went into the kitchen and returned with the pureed drinks.
The God's Gracers stood behind their chairs around the table and reached their hands to each other. Mellock reached for one of my hands and Bluvar one of Pierre's. They waited until we took each other's hands and completed the circle.
Bluvar sang out a question in a strong bass, and the others responded, their voices vibrant and their faces transformed with joy. They sang in their original Old Earth language and my translator caught most of it.
“Why are we gathered here?”
“To share what we have.”
“Why do we get together?”
“Because we love one another.”
“Why must the community survive?”
“To ensure that each of us survives.”
“Why must each of us survive?”
“To create a loving community.”
The God's Gracers smiled at each other and pulled out chairs.
I took several bites. What was so exotic and yet familiar about this food? I turned to Pierre. “Ever taste anything like this before in any of your travels?”
He stopped his fork halfway on its journey from his plate to his mouth and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Nope.” He stuck another large bite in his mouth.
I chuckled. Mellock looked at Pierre’s obvious relish. The three men from God's Grace followed our focus of attention.
Pierre’s gaze left his plate and swept our faces. He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “What’s this? Never seen a man enjoy his food before?”
“No. Maybe yes. You’re redefining what it means to enjoy one's food.”
He chuckled.
I looked at the food on my plate. “This is surprisingly good simply as it comes out of the ground.”
He gave me a quick, sharp nod. “The particular soil, water, and air in which the plant is grown can alter its flavor and texture. It’s a well-known fact, so what of it?”
I sat still for a moment. “You’re a geology and geography expert. Could the planet God's Grace have the right mix of environmental factors to produce a superior crop worthy of costly space transport?”
“You bet. But let’s talk later. I have a million dollar meal to eat.”
The rest of us exchanged smiles and glances.
I tasted each vegetable and asked Mellock about it. She told me its name and how best to fix it.
We finished and sat around in the living area enjoying cups of thick, tasty coffee. I looked into my cup as if searching for an answer. I raised my head. “Let's talk marketing. Vegetables. I don’t think anyone anywhere in the Federation grows anything like what we ate tonight.”
Pierre set his hands on his thighs. “I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I was eating a million dollar meal.”
Bluvar struck his armrests with both fists and glared at me. “Don’t give them any crazy ideas! The mining venture is enough for now.”
“It’s not crazy. I’m thinking of what’s best for your planet.”
“Don’t give them unrealistic hopes.” He shook his head and his long beard swept from one side of his chest to the other until it got caught between the left side of his chest and his arm.
Pierre turned his hands palms up. “Where’s the harm? We can find out tomorrow if it’s an illusion or a dream – or a genuine reality. I know a guy who buys and sells exotic produce. We can bring him some samples. If he buys them you have one more dream come true.”
Bluvar sat back and stroked his beard.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll call the buyer. I’ll tell him I’ll bring him lunch. If he agrees, I’ll call you. You get something ready and meet me at the produce market. His office is on the top floor.”
The God's Gracers sat in shocked silence. Hoque turned to Mellock. “Honey, this is your thing. You stay here and cook while we attend the Economic Development classes. We probably shouldn’t make it too obvious we’re not following the Federation program.”
Her eyes widened and she nodded.
Pierre smiled at me. “It’s settled then. Ready to leave?”
“Yep.”
I smiled at Mellock. “Thank you for a most excellent meal. Someday I can brag about being one of the first to eat a genuine God's Grace vegetable.”
Pierre and I took our leave and headed downtown.
I snuggled against his broad chest. “That’s great you know someone.”
“On my last trip here I ended up on an all-night drinking expedition with a group of locals. This one guy told me he dealt with exotic produce from all the colonies. We ended up at his office at three o'clock in the morning, and he prepared an awesome snack.”
“I bet.”
“It’s late. You’ll need a place to stay tonight. Why don't you stay in the same place? I’m sure it’s still available.”
I suppressed a smile. “That’s mighty nice of you.”
“Huh?”
“The night clerk spilled the beans. He told me the room was your reservation.”
He smiled. “Then I can insist you stay there.”
“Hey, what if I want to go elsewhere?”
“You’ll never find anything so convenient. Besides, I want to know you’re
safe. Some of the hotels are... not good places for a woman I care about.”
I looked at him. For some funny reason, I felt tears well up. I wiped them away. “Thank you, Pierre.” My voice turned husky. “Since I know where I’ll be staying, I’ll commo John.”
“He’s a good commander.”
“Sometimes it feels like I’m checking in with a parent.”
Pierre placed a hand on my arm. “A good leader takes care of his people. A lax attitude leads to lost crew members. I’ve seen it happen. On a large combatant the numbers are too big. We lose crew even on liberty leave, even in a place like Bella.”
I commo'd John. “Hi. Just got done with dinner at the apartment of the God's Gracers. Have I got a story to tell. Look, I have one more day to subvert the system, so I’ll be staying tonight in town.”
“Roger that. Be careful.”
We got out of the robotaxi near the entrance to the hotel, and Pierre tucked my arm under his. “Why don't we take a walk? There is a homemade ice cream joint near here.”
“Sounds great.”
We walked around the corner and stopped at a tiny place tucked between two buildings at the street level. The proprietor, a short, stubby man with apple red cheeks and a friendly smile, came to the counter.
I pointed to a tub. “Chocolate.”
He handed me two scoops on a cone, and I licked the sweet chocolate until it was gone. “I’m always sorry when I finish.”
“Want another?”
I laughed. “No way. As it is I’ll have to starve to make up for calories already consumed.”
“I should have gone to one of those places with no calories.”
“But then it’s not real.”
He walked me to the covered arch hideaway hotel. Outside the door he kissed me, his lips lingering on mine, the butterscotch flavor remnants of his ice cream mixing with the chocolate on mine.
He stepped back. “See you tomorrow.”
The next morning, I met with the male contingent of the God's Gracers at the Agricultural Emporium. I was supposed to sign for small, solar powered tractors that appeared appropriate for a house garden. If the God's Gracers were going to grow anything for export, they needed something that was up to the task. I stared at the line item for a moment and glanced at the clerk, a trim man with a pencil-thin mustache matching an equally thin physique. “Show me what you have that can do real work.”