by E. M. Foner
“Is this club for people who have a couple thousand creds to spare, or are there other members like you who’ve made a killing since the elevators got built?”
“It’s a mix, but there are a number of wealthy members with serious amounts of capital who’ve tried direct investments with the Dollnicks and the Drazens. A couple of them have gotten their fingers badly burned due to cultural misunderstandings, and it’s not so easy to keep up with fast-moving developments light-years from Earth.”
“You should have told me about this before. Donna’s daughters are both in the information business, and the embassy subscribes to their premium services. We’ll sit down with Dorothy while you’re here and she can help set up some filters to watch for the opportunities you’re interested in. She’s really good with the holo-interfaces.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, Kelly. Tell me something. Do you have any connections with humans who are involved in opening new worlds? As much as I enjoy talking with your alien friends, it would be a real feather in my cap if I could bring my club some off-world investment ideas they could understand. We joined a new umbrella group last year that coordinates large funds for more than a thousand investment clubs worldwide. If you know anybody, it would be worth their time to hear me out.”
“Mom? Have you ever considered appearing on a business panel? I think I can get EarthCent Intelligence to pick up the cost of Dad’s fishing vacation.”
Six
“How come I’ve never been in here before?” Kelly asked the ceiling. The elegant meeting room was located at one end of the immense cylindrical space station, with a transparent wall or atmosphere retention field that allowed the occupants to look out over the traffic entering and leaving the hollow core. The chairs around the table, which at first looked like a mismatched collection, turned out to be custom built for the ambassadors of the different species, complete with name tags.
“The other ambassadors don’t have a contractual obligation to participate in our open house,” Libby replied. “If you held the meeting at your embassy, I doubt you would have had much luck convincing some them to host a visiting emissary. We use this room when we call for a special meeting, which hasn’t happened since you’ve been ambassador. It will remind the others that we’re the ones who are asking for a favor.”
“But I’ve been on the station almost twenty years. It seems like a terrible waste to let a room like this sit unused.”
“It wouldn’t have the same impact if we rented it out for weddings or private parties and everybody had been here before. Srythlan and the Grenouthian ambassador have both been on the station long enough to have attended the last special meeting we called, but it will be the first time for the others.”
“What was that meeting about?” Kelly asked. She circled the large oval table, checking how the placement of platters from the caterer lined up with the labeled chairs of the species, and she had to admit that Donna couldn’t have planned it better.
“A dispute over a star system with one world settled by the Hortens and another by the Drazens. We generally resolve conflicts between tunnel network members by decree, but I convinced Gryph that the ambassadors present on Union Station at that time would make the right decision if he asked them to judge the case on its merits.”
“You were wrong?”
“Let’s just say I wasn’t right. The Hortens spent more on bribes than the Drazens and were awarded the system. To prevent hard feelings, Gryph provided the Drazens with a similar unoccupied system from his hidden reserve.”
“All’s well that ends well,” Kelly said, peeling back the plastic wrap from a tray and extracting one of her favorite faux-chicken salad roll-ups.
“I’m the one who had to pay Gryph back for the system he gave up,” Libby told her. “He said it would teach me an important lesson.”
“A lesson for the teacher,” Kelly marveled. “I never realized that the Stryx held private assets the same way as everybody else.”
“Why do you think I charge Blythe and Chastity to handle the bookings for InstaSitter?” Libby asked. “My dating service is very expensive to run, so it’s never really made much of a profit. Now I’m hoping that with the theme park, I’ll be able to pay Gryph back ahead of schedule.”
“Did Jeeves put you up to that explanation? I can’t even tell when you’re being serious anymore.”
Gwendolyn chose that moment to enter the room, and the Stryx librarian left Kelly’s question unanswered.
“Gwen, you’re ten minutes early,” Kelly greeted the Gem ambassador.
“I thought you might need help with the arrangements but it looks like everything is set.”
“You’re seated next to me, and the mixed assortment of chocolates is between us.”
Gwendolyn smiled, and then hesitated for a moment before asking, “Is it a bad time to talk about something unrelated to the open house?”
“Not at all. What is it, Gwen?”
“I’m worried about Mist,” Gwendolyn said with a sigh. “When Dorothy came over the other day, they talked about boys nonstop.”
“That’s normal for sixteen-year olds,” Kelly replied. Then it hit her that there weren’t any Gem males for Mist to be interested in. “Oh, I’m sorry, Gwen,” she said, taking the clone’s hand. “I didn’t think before I spoke. But even though Mist imitates Dorothy in some of her clothing choices, she never seems to be confused about her species identity. And what could we do about it anyway?”
“I’m thinking about resigning as ambassador and taking Mist back to one of our worlds. The project to restore the other bloodlines from our race using the genetic samples obtained from the Farlings is moving along rapidly. Originally, the goal was to clone as many individuals as possible to reestablish our genetic diversity, but there’s a growing movement to just clone the males for the time being, until there are enough to go around for the living Gem who want to experience marriage and natural conception.”
“But what about the age difference?” Kelly asked, after getting over her immediate reaction of disbelief. The Gem were the galaxy’s champion cloners, and if anybody could build a population of men to order, it was them.
“We live longer than humans,” Gwendolyn replied self-consciously. “Almost all of the other sentients do, it’s just something that develops in species over time. But you know that since we ejected the old elites and their status quo, we’ve begun incorporating alien technology and sciences into our culture. Now everybody’s talking about the new stasis hotels that are springing up, and I think I should suggest it to Mist.”
“A stasis hotel? You mean, you check-in, they put you to sleep, and you remain in stasis until you get a wake-up call?”
“And the hotels are working with the crèche worlds so that they can plan on reviving customers when there are sufficient males of a suitable age. Some of my sisters argue that we should raise the boys so they look favorably on entering plural marriages with older women, or that we should ask them to donate their, you know, for Gem who want to become pregnant.”
“Are these stasis hotels available to everybody, or is there a selection process?”
“Like a clone beauty contest? That would be a bit dull,” Gwendolyn said with a laugh. “Besides, Mist is a hero in the Gem Empire for winning hide-and-seek at the Carnival and financing our purchases from Farling Pharmaceutical with her prize. One of the reasons I accepted the ambassadorship here rather than returning home was so Mist could enjoy being a teenager without all of the adulation. If she wants to go into stasis, they’ll put her at the top of the wake-up list.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Kelly said. “We’ll miss her, we’ll miss both of you if you go, but to give her a chance at a normal life? Have you been doing anything to prepare her for a talk about this?”
“Not yet. I thought I’d wait until Dorothy starts dating so Mist can have a clear picture of the choice she’s making,” Gwendolyn replied. “Oh, the other ambassadors are starting to a
rrive.”
Bork and Czeros entered the room side by side, both of them ogling at the view.
“Srythlan told me about this room,” Bork said. “It’s a shame they don’t rent it out for special events.”
“Do either of you know what this meeting is about?” Czeros asked the women. “Bork says he knows but he won’t say, and I think he’s making it up.”
“The Stryx didn’t tell you?” Kelly asked.
“Just a request to attend a special meeting about the open house, and that there would be a pricey California Cabernet available,” the Frunge ambassador replied. “And there it is.” He headed for the table and set to work uncorking the first bottle.
“Ambassadors,” announced a gorgeous Vergallian woman as she strode up to the table. “I am Aluria, and I assume you will all accept this introduction as a substitute for an official reception at our embassy.”
“I heard that our last Vergallian ambassador had moved on,” Bork said. “Did she leave the embassy so messy that you’re embarrassed to invite us all over?”
“The embassy underwent renovations during the transition period and the ballroom is now somewhat smaller, so I’m forced to be selective about my guest lists,” Aluria replied coldly.
Bork’s tentacle began to rise in anger and Czeros looked up from the cheese platter with a frown, but Kelly walked over to Aluria and offered her hand. After a moment’s hesitation, the Vergallian ambassador deigned to brush fingers in the manner of a superior acknowledging a subordinate. The Grenouthian ambassador had since entered the room and he hopped right over to the Vergallian.
“Aluria. So nice to see you again.”
“Ambassador,” Aluria replied warmly. “I hope you’ll be available for my official reception.”
“Of course,” the giant bunny replied. “My wife and her grooming circle friends are all looking forward to it.”
“Aluria. Thank you for the invitation,” Ambassador Crute declared, approaching the group. “My children and their nanny have never been to an official reception before, and they’re all very excited.”
“My pleasure,” the Vergallian ambassador said, turning on the charm. “Ambassador Srythlan. We haven’t been properly introduced, but I hope you and your family will be able to attend my official reception.”
“A prior engagement,” the Verlock ambassador replied slowly, not altering the straight line he had taken towards his seat at the table. “Perhaps one of my junior staff might attend.”
Aluria’s beautiful face flashed red and then white, so quickly that a casual observer could be forgiven for confusing her with a Horten. Then Ortha arrived, his skin tinged blue, and the Vergallian’s creamy complexion returned to its normal, flawless state.
“Aluria, my dear,” the Horten ambassador said. “Your arrival on Union Station was much anticipated, and I look forward to renewing the close relations that existed between myself and your predecessor.”
“Of course,” Aluria replied, having completely recovered the poise she had lost at Srythlan’s obvious slight. “Quite the little gathering the Stryx have invited us to. I wonder what’s on the agenda?”
The Chert ambassador appeared in his chair, the ever-present invisibility projector perched on his shoulder, and Kelly did a quick head count to compare with the number of seats.
“Ambassador Ptew has a family emergency and won’t be able to attend,” Libby announced. “Everybody please be seated and give your attention to Ambassador McAllister, the host of our upcoming open house.”
“Those polygamous birds always have a family emergency,” Ortha said in an undertone as he took his seat.
“Thank you, Libby,” Kelly said, ignoring Ortha’s rudeness. “As the contractual host of the upcoming open house, the Stryx have asked me to arrange lodgings with ambassadors on this station for the visiting emissaries. This group will be arriving in advance of the body of guests, and while we won’t try to keep it a secret, I hope I can count on you not to publicize their presence until the open house officially begins.”
“I will waive my claim to the honor of entertaining a foreign dignitary in the interest of group harmony,” Ortha declared immediately, not bothering to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Several of the other ambassadors silently cursed themselves for having immediately dug into the food and being constrained from speaking until they could swallow.
“You do realize that it’s the Stryx making this request, not me,” Kelly said, taking advantage of catering-induced silence. “Our station librarian tells me that if we do a good job entertaining the emissaries from the Cayl Empire, it will greatly increase the odds of their joining the tunnel network, en masse. I have already offered to put up all five of the visiting dignitaries myself, but the Stryx…”
“The Stryx have more sense than to gamble on humans to make a good impression,” Aluria interrupted. “The Empire of a Hundred Worlds has had contact with the Cayl Empire in the past and we will not be cheated out of our rights. I will host the Lood emissary, though I’ll thank him to keep his mask on.”
“Perhaps I spoke too hastily,” Ortha said, turning a pinkish white. “After all, it’s not every day one has the opportunity to spend quality time with a diplomatic colleague from the other side of the galaxy. I seem to recall a species with silver skin from a Grenouthian documentary, and I’m sure we could make their emissary feel at home and, uh, influence the, uh, outcome.”
“Is one of the visiting emissaries a Nangor?” Crute asked, spitting some crumbs into the air as he rushed into the fray. “We have occasionally traded with them in the past, despite the distance, as not many species manufacture tools and equipment that suit a four-armed operator. I’m sure it would be an error on your part to place a Nangor with anybody else.”
“I didn’t receive any special instructions from the Stryx, so I guess ‘First come, first serve,’ is appropriate,” Kelly said. “I will be hosting the Cayl at Libby’s request, so that just leaves the turtles, I mean, the Tzvim.”
“I,” Srythlan began, but the Grenouthian ambassador spoke right over him.
“Of course we will host the Tzvim. It’s safe to say that over the last hundred thousand years, my people have had more contact with the members of the Cayl Empire than any of the other species present. It’s only appropriate we should have the opportunity to return the hospitality they have shown our documentary crews.”
The translation of his last sentence came through Kelly’s implant sounding oddly like a threat, but she brushed the thought aside.
“I would have offered to invite the Tzvim emissary, but we are allergic to their epidermal shedding,” Srythlan finally got out.
“Well, this was much easier than I anticipated,” Kelly remarked happily. She had come into the meeting worried that she would have to lean on her friends to accept a mismatched guest, but instead, the ambassadors from the species who usually gave her a hard time had stepped up.
“If that’s everything, I have a party to finish planning,” Aluria announced, rising from her seat. “We in the Empire of a Hundred Worlds are always happy to do our part for the Stryx.”
“Likewise,” Crute declared, pushing back from the table. “Can I assume that nobody else intended to partake in this gourmet platter of Sheezle bugs? Good. I’ll just take it with me then.”
“Yes. I just remembered I have something as well,” Ortha stated. He didn’t rise from the table immediately because he was busy wrapping Horten delicacies in napkins and slipping them into his pockets. “For the children,” he added, addressing no one in particular.
“Since everybody else is leaving,” the Grenouthian ambassador said. His pouch looked strangely lumpy as he hopped away, and Kelly noted that the platters in front of his seat were swept clean, even though the ambassadors had only been seated for a couple of minutes.
“Where’s the fire?” Czeros called after them. He uncorked a second bottle of California Cabernet, and shocked Kelly by pouring glasses for Bork, Gwendolyn and herself
before filling his own. A sound like stones being crushed into gravel came from the end of the table, and everybody turned to see the Verlock caught in a rare fit of laughter, his massive shoulders heaving.
“Am I missing something here?” Kelly demanded. “I know that Vergallians and the Dollnicks do a lot of business outside of the tunnel network, that the Hortens are a bit slippery and the Grenouthians think they’re smarter than everybody else, but why did they all agree to help me?”
“Your little speech was a marvel of underhanded motivation, though it took a moment for them to figure it out,” the Chert ambassador explained. “They aren’t used to subtlety from humans.”
“But I was being perfectly honest,” Kelly said. “By taking home an alien dignitary, they’re doing a favor for the Stryx.”
“Why would they do favors for the Stryx?” Bork asked. “Will the Stryx give them special treatment in return? It was your remark about the station librarian that woke up Aluria, and the rest of them figured it out as soon as she spoke.”
“Figured what out?” Kelly asked in frustration.
“That their best chance of affecting the decisions of the visiting emissaries is to get them alone, on their own turf,” Czeros said. “The Cayl Empire is a completely functional entity that’s been around for millions of years. Do you know what that means?”
“They’re stable?” Kelly said.
“They’re competition,” Srythlan boomed.
“Imagine what will happen if the Stryx push a permanent tunnel through to the other side of the galaxy,” the Chert ambassador continued. “All of a sudden, the members of the Cayl Empire with expansionist tendencies will be able to send their colony ships to the systems on the fringes of the tunnel network for little more cost than expanding the edges of their own empire.”