The Ambassador Calls Twice (A Federation Story)

by E J Randolph

  He showed me a picture of a large tractor along with the relevant technical information. “This is our most popular model.”

  “Cargo space ship transportable?”

  “Of course.”

  I examined the specs. “Mean time between failure?”

  “Five years.”

  Price include the power pack?”

  “Yes.”

  “Give me a hundred. Throw in ten diagnostic and repair kits.”

  He wrote it up and the total was identical to the solar models.

  “Better price?”

  “Of course. We sell so many of these we can offer a much better deal.”

  I grinned at the God's Gracers and signed for the upgraded package

  They stood with open mouths. I turned to the door, and they followed me.

  ~ ~ ~

  Pierre commo'd. “Lunch is on.”

  I turned to Hoque. “Get Mellock and the veggies and meet me at the Produce Market. I’m going there now.”

  I took a robotaxi to the market and hurried to Pierre waiting for me at the main entrance. “The God’s Gracers are on their way.” I glanced in the door. The bottom floor of the market was a multiplicity of colors, shouts, hails, smells, and activity, a huge farmer's market with individual stalls and tables piled high with all kinds of fresh fruits and vegetables along with fresh fish and meat. Buyers from local restaurants crowded around.

  Pierre caught sight of the God's Gracers. “Come on, I see them getting out of a robotaxi.”

  He grabbed my hand, and we walked against the crowds of people heading toward the market. Each God’s Gracers carried a covered dish.

  Mellock smiled at us. “We have the vegetables, and everything turned out just right.”

  Pierre beckoned. “Follow me.” He led the way through the noisy crowd in the market and headed to a bank of elevators. We rose to the top floor and stepped into a different world – quiet, pristine, and clean with walls, ceilings, and the floor covered with polished, white ceramic tiles. We walked to the closed door opposite the elevators, our shoes clacking on the shiny surface. The door slid open, and the God's Gracers carried their precious cargo of vegetables in as if they were the crown jewels.

  A rotund, bald man glided toward us, rubbing his chubby hands. He was nothing but round curves from his shiny head through his ample belly to his counterbalancing rear end. “I am soooo excited! Food from a new planet.” He bounced on his impossibly small feet and pointed to a long, sparkling, white table with a plush, red runner down its center.

  Mellock laid her dish down.

  He tutted and pointed to another spot. “Put that one here.”

  The three men from God's Grace stopped, holding their covered containers.

  The buyer took the dishes from the men's hands, removed the covers with a flourish, and laid them on the table in a semicircle. He adjusted their positions, stared at them, and adjusted their positions again. With a smile, he tucked a red and white checked napkin around his short neck, and sat in the only chair at the table. A few moments later he bent forward and sniffed the dishes, his nostrils flaring as he stopped over each one.

  Mellock pointed to a dish. “This one–”

  “Silence!”

  He pulled a vegetable medley toward him, sniffed the dish again, and looked at it from several angles. With his fork, he pierced a broccoli floret, pinched it with the fingers of his other hand, and popped it into his mouth. His eyes opened wide. He chewed, and swallowed. A bite of a carrot followed. “Ooh!” Then a bean. He smiled and momentarily closed his eyes.

  For several seconds, he studied the remaining dishes. His hand snaked out, and he pulled a bowl to him containing two steamed corn on the cob. With the fingers of each hand holding the ends, he twirled a cob, smelled it, and took a bite. He reached for another dish and gazed at the baked, spiced apples within. His quivering nose intercepted the rising steam. “Ah.” He removed a bite-sized portion and chewed it with slow deliberation. He sank back, his eyes half closed.

  Hoque pointed to a dish. “You forgot a dish.”

  “I did not forget it. I’m resting. You don't know how exhausting this tasting can be.”

  Hoque’s eye widened.

  After a few moments, the reinvigorated buyer opened his eyes and reached for the final dish, plump, inviting mushrooms in a simple sauce. He picked up two, one in each hand, smelled them, and plopped first one then the other into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.

  He sat back and surveyed the dishes. “Where exactly are you from?” He looked at my party with a raised eyebrow.

  “God's Grace.” Hoque as usual answered.

  “Never heard of it.”

  Pierre waved his hand at the God’s Gracers. “But you will be hearing about it. If you don't want a contract with these hard-working farmers, I know of several buyers who will.”

  The buyer glared at Pierre. “I’m the best and you know it.” He turned to the God’s Gracers. “I’m willing to contract with you for anything you grow. Let’s see if we can reach an agreeable price.”

  He led the way to a circle of chairs. The God's Gracers sat across from him, and Pierre and I to each side. I bit my lower lip. Here is where the rubber hit the road. Could my charges stand up to this city sophisticate? Would I be able to step in and save the negotiations if necessary?

  For the next hour and a half, the buyer haggled with the simple farmers, who in turn displayed a surprising skill and quickness of wit. Ah, this must be like bargaining at a local market. No doubt the God’s Gracers had plenty of experience with that. They hammered out an agreement where the buyer would send a cargo ship four times a year to pick up whatever was in season and make an immediate payment. The buyer shook hands with everyone and passed around a screen with a contract for all to sign.

  I waited with bated breath. Would this slicky-boy buyer try to slip in any final revisions detrimental to my charges? The God's Gracers signed followed by the buyer, who did so on his line without adding anything. I signed as a witness and held it for Pierre to sign. Copies were printed for the God’s Gracers and sent to me and the library. I sighed with relief and relaxed.

  The buyer walked to a cupboard, withdrew a key, and unlocked it. He pulled out a glass bottle. “The best from New France.” He whisked out a corkscrew, removed the cork with a pop, and poured the sparkling clear liquid into long-stemmed glasses. He handed one to each of us.

  This was a rare treat. To do the occasion proud, I sniffed the content of my glass, stared at it, and took a sip, rolling the liquid in my mouth and savoring it before swallowing. The buyer nodded at me.

  The alcohol hammered my head. I took another sip and the same thing happened. No doubt about it. This wine had a much higher than average alcohol content. How would this affect the God's Gracers?

  Mellock swayed on her feet. Hoque’s eyes crossed.

  The buyer offered more, and I held up a hand. “No thank you. These people have another appointment. Perhaps some other time.”

  Mellock and Hoque giggled.

  An unfamiliar amount of alcohol augmented the already heady bargaining experience for these two. It would not be wise to allow further talk – with perhaps a contract revision. I gave the jolly man a sharp glance. Hmm, he didn’t become the top buyer by being a simpleton or by being warm-hearted and generous. I reached out my hand. “It’s been a pleasure.”

  His eyes opened wide, but he recovered and shook hands with me, the God's Gracers, and Pierre. He flung his arms wide. “Stop in the next time you’re in town.”

  Mellock giggled. “We will.”

  “We’ll drink more wine.”

  The young woman giggled again.

  I bit my tongue and shepherded the God's Gracers to the elevators.

  On the way down, Hoque turned to me. “What appointment must we attend?”

  “Um.” An idea occurred to me. “A celebration.”

  Mellock smiled, a small, Mona Lisa kind of smile. “Yes, that’s right. Bu
t you must come with us.”

  I looked at Pierre and he nodded. I turned to her. “Certainly, we’ll come with you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  We tumbled into a large robotaxi and headed to the God's Gracers' apartment.

  I headed toward the kitchen with Mellock, but she stopped me with her hand. She smiled her small smile again. “No. You must sit in here with Pierre. Hoque will help me.”

  Something was definitely up, but I had no idea what.

  Hoque went into the kitchen, and after a moment so did Bluvar and Lukar. The latter two came out smiling and sauntered over to sit with us. Now they knew what was up, and they were in on it.

  Hoque and Mellock walked into the living room. Hoque carried a tray with seven small glasses filled with water and Mellock carried one with seven small crackers.

  Mellock left the room and returned with her daughter. She handed two white cloths to the girl and told her to bring them to us. The child walked over and gave one to me and one to Pierre. She hurried to her mother and clutched her skirt.

  Mellock smiled. “You have done so much for us you are as one of us, and we’re welcoming you into our community.”

  What an honor! But what did it mean? Would I be bound by any obligations? What would Really Big say? I glanced at the smiling God’s Gracers. No way could I back out without creating friction.

  “Put the cloths around your necks. Normally this is the transition ritual to adulthood. And normally, you would know what to say, but since you don't, repeat after me.”

  I nodded.

  Lukar stood. “Everyone, please stand.”

  We all did.

  “We are gathered together to celebrate the additions to our community.”

  Mellock leaned toward us. “Say your first names.” She spoke in a whisper.

  “Kate.”

  “Pierre.”

  Lukar inclined his head toward us. “Kate, we welcome you. Pierre, we welcome you.”

  Mellock pointed to the table. “Take one tray each and pass out the glasses and crackers and say I share what I have so the community will survive.”

  I passed out the glasses. “I share what I have so the community will survive.”

  Pierre passed out the crackers. “I share what I have so the community will survive.”

  She smiled. “Each of you gets a glass and a cracker.”

  We each took a glass and a cracker.

  Lukar spread his arms. “We eat together and drink together.”

  We ate the crackers we held and drank the water.

  They linked hands with each other and with us. “We eat together and drink together. We are now stronger because of our new additions.” They sang this chorus with joyful tones, and at the end, they raised their arms. “Yay! Whoopee! Yay!” They hugged each other and us.

  Wow! Such joy! Such happiness! Was this how it felt to belong somewhere?

  Mellock headed to the kitchen. “I cooked double this morning, so we have the same food for dinner that I brought to the buyer.”

  We dashed to the kitchen and brought out the dishes to the dining-room table. They sang their question and answer grace. As a new member of the community, I paid more attention to the communitarian words.

  We sat and I reached for the closest dish. “Why do you go by your first names?

  Bluvar stroked his beard, “We use last names, but they are expressions of relationship, son or daughter of. After the Great Calamity, as we call the time of disease and death, our population was so small, we didn’t need last names. The enlightened ones realized we had to value each individual, and they wrote the songs of joy we sing. We give each person a unique, individual name because each person brings something unique and valuable to the community. And because the population is still small, we can continue this practice.”

  The uniqueness? No one cared about that on overcrowded Old Earth. I ladled some of the vegetable medley onto my plate.

  We finished dinner, and the God’s Gracers walked us to the door.

  I hugged each one, and a few tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. “I want to thank you. I never expected to enjoy working as much as I have these past three days. I know I’ll be hearing good things about God's Grace in the years to come. You’re good people.”

  We headed downtown in a robotaxi, and I snuggled into Pierre’s shoulder, yawned, and fell asleep. A few minutes later, I woke. “Was I asleep?”

  He chuckled. “You need a good night's sleep.”

  I waggled my eyebrows. “But I’m off duty starting tomorrow and ready for fun.”

  Fifteen minutes later he instructed the robotaxi to wait and walked me to the small hideaway hotel. He gave me a long, lingering kiss and left.

  I touched my lips. Sweet promises of what was to come.

  In my room, I commo’d John. “I’m pooped. I’m staying over at the same place.” I commo’d out without waiting for his reply and lay down.

  ~ ~ ~

  The next morning I woke with a smile. Today I’d be with Pierre all day long! Whoopee! I threw my clothes on and brushed my hair. Images of the last few days flashed through my mind. I accomplished something these past few days with some help from Pierre. Sure, I’d lost three days of my vacation, but I did some real good in the universe, and I still had the rest of my vacation to look forward to.

  I tapped my brush on my hand. The shenanigans I pulled might have negative consequences on my career. I slammed my brush down. What was wrong with my career? The embassy called me in, they’d have to deal with it – if they ever found out.

  Pierre showed up early, and we went to a place that served Belgium waffles and cream. We finished and he tucked my arm under his. “I’ve got a surprise destination.”

  “Ooh, where to?”

  He shook his head and suppressed a smile. In the robotaxi, he punched in our destination instead of saying it aloud.

  We arrived at a large, domed building. The sign read Planetary Museum.

  “Is this the secret?”

  He shook his head, and a smile played on his lips. He grabbed my hand, and we raced up the one story high set of stairs leading to gleaming, copper doors that opened at our approach.

  I took a big step through the doors – and froze. “Oh, wow!” I stood in space with my feet on a small ball that was Bellasport with a star-filled universe around me. “I can’t move.”

  “It’s a hologram. The floor is solid. You can walk.”

  I clutched his arm like a drowning swimmer and took a step. “You’re right!” My eyes told me I was floating, but my feet argued I was firmly supported. “This is amazing!” I spread my arms and twirled almost touching the stars and planets floating around me.

  “I come here every time I’m in port.”

  He moved toward a closed door that appeared to be adrift in space, and I followed. We walked through it, and stood in a standard construction, large hall.

  I laughed. “I can’t believe that! What an experience! What a great way to learn cosmology.”

  “The kids love it. There’s a more staid entrance for the faint of heart.”

  “Where to now?”

  He pointed straight ahead. “I’d like to see the models of the various space colony ships.”

  “Is there a generation ship?”

  “Yes. It’s sliced down the center, so you can see how people lived – for generations.

  “It’s nearly inconceivable to me people could make the decision to leave Old Earth knowing they would live cooped up on a ship for the rest of their lives and their children's lives.”

  “Yeah, only a descendant would set foot on the promised land.”

  “If everything worked out right.”

  “That reminds me, I have a story to tell. But here’s the model.”

  The generation ship model was large. A sign explained the ship was a long cylinder that made slow turns in space to imitate gravity. Farther along another sign noted the ships were so large they were assembled in space, and while this mo
del was one kilometer long and half a kilometer wide, the originals were much larger and were powered by solar sails and ion engines.

  Pierre leaned on the railing. “An ion engine started the acceleration of one tenth of a g which continued until the half way point. Then it went in reverse to slow the ship.”

  We passed by the hydroponic growing areas, animal raising pens, and the freezers that kept embryos of farm animals and seeds for a variety of crops. The ship had everything required to sustain life in a closed environment.

  I stopped and bowed my head. “Maybe I do understand life on this ship. It was not so different from life on the monad on Old Earth where I grew up. Everything is regulated on the survival level. With so many people living in a small space, you have to require conformity. Year after year, decade after decade, growing up and dying in a small space where everything is regulated.”

  A couple of shuttle ships berthed at the rear of the model. These ships ferried the inhabitants and equipment to the surface of the target planet.

  I looked down the length of the ship as far as I could see. “Wonder what happened to the nonconformists like me?”

  Pierre grabbed my hand and pointed to a bench bookended by two large indoor trees between exhibits. “Rest your feet while I tell you a story.”

  I sat and raised one foot. “These little things are getting sore. I’m a modern space lady. I usually let a ship get me from here to there, not my own two feet.”

  He chuckled and looked at his hands. “I promised you a story. This one happened about seven years ago. I was a junior officer on a light combatant. A survey ship had discovered a generation ship orbiting its target planet. According to the records it was a European Union sponsored colony. The goal of this colony was to establish an outpost of advanced technology research and development with an emphasis on the biological and psychological sciences. The mission planners even foresaw that faster than light transport would be developed before this ship reached its distant target.”