by E. M. Foner
“Not very subtle, but I like a leader who knows how to talk business. What are you asking?”
“It seems to me that the simplest solution would be for the family that owns the Grenouthian manufacturing rights to the noodle molecule to license the process to a human group. However, it appears that there’s a contract in place requiring that noodle weapons shown in professional LARPing broadcasts be manufactured on one of your planets.”
“So you want us to allow Humans to move to one of our open worlds and establish a sovereign community.” The Grenouthian ambassador regarded the president thoughtfully. “How much do you know about theme parks?”
“If I can have your attention,” Judith announced. “Our next demonstration will illustrate the use of one of the more popular magical buffs used today in competitive LARPing. I give you Thomas and Chance.”
The two artificial people strode through the opening into the booth, saluted with their swords, and then immediately attacked each other, moving faster than humanly possible. They were evenly matched and had practiced with each other so frequently that minutes went by without either of them penetrating the defenses of the other.
“Don’t see what’s so special about artificial people fighting each other,” one of the bunnies muttered. “Sure, they’re quick, but I’d be quick too if I was built from the latest technology.”
Thomas and Chance disengaged and retreated to the corners of the make-shift dueling square. “That was just regular speed, folks,” Judith announced. “Now let’s see what enchanted weapons can do for our models.”
“Faster,” Thomas and Chance declared simultaneously, and then they were at each other in a blur of motion.
“How did Baa work an enchantment that could do this?” the Grenouthian ambassador demanded. “It can’t be time dilation—the Stryx would never allow that.”
“My understanding is that it’s magic,” the president of EarthCent replied. “Just like recreating Earth’s history in theme parks on worlds hundreds of light years away. I understand your concerns with our limited facilities for hosting advanced species who visit our planet on your documentary tours, but I’m sure you know that ‘Earth’ is a registered trademark in tunnel network space. Of course, I’m as open to entertaining your proposal as an open world is to immigration.”
“I hear you loud and clear. So, we allow a Human community to set up manufacturing noodle weapons on one of our open worlds, either licensing the technology or supplying the molecular feedstock at wholesale, and you will authorize six Earth-branded theme parks on worlds of our choosing.”
“Two theme parks, and they have to employ one hundred percent humans for reenactments.”
“Four, and I’ll go fifty percent. Where do you expect us to find enough Humans capable of staging an ancient battle with swords and axes? There are hordes of out-of-work Drazen and Horten actors just begging for that kind of work. With wigs and a little body paint, you’d never know they aren’t the genuine article. Nobody is going to notice a few extra thumbs.”
“Three worlds, and ninety percent humans, with a possible waiver for trained combatants, but no speaking parts.”
“He got her!” a bunny shouted excitedly.
“They got each other,” another said, staring down at a small screen. “I recorded it so I could replay in slow motion. See?”
Thomas and Chance exited the ring to enthusiastic applause and were replaced by Affie and Flazint while the EarthCent president and the Grenouthian ambassador continued to haggle over their newly defined RPoH, or Required Percentage of Humans. Just as they seemed to reach a compromise at seventy percent, the president threw a wrench in the works by insisting on a theme park hiatus if the volume of tourists taking documentary tours to Earth fell below the current level.
“He’s good,” Kelly whispered to her daughter. “I never would have thought of that.”
“Did we get our noodle weapons supply?” Dorothy asked. “I lost track of the deal when they started bandying numbers back and forth.”
“It sounded to me like everybody is getting what they wanted. Daniel will be happy to see humans allowed on a Grenouthian open world, you’ll get your noodle stuff, and Hildy will get more publicity for Earth.”
“It takes all types of players to raid a dungeon,” Judith announced, drawing attention back to the ring where Affie and Flazint were now ready, “and not all of them duel with matching weapons.”
Dorothy’s two friends stood at opposite corners of the little square, Flazint with her bow and Affie with her rapier. At a sign from Judith, the Frunge girl nocked an arrow and drew the bowstring. The Vergallian girl displayed her lightning reactions by jumping to the side the moment the arrow was released, and Thomas leaned over the table from the musical instruments booth and snatched it out of the air. Flazint tried to deflect Affie’s thrust with her belt dagger, but the noodle rapier slipped passed her guard and wilted like a thick strand of overcooked spaghetti when it made contact with her stomach.
“And that’s the usual result when an archer misses an opponent at close range, but what happens if the weapons are enchanted?” Judith asked as the two models returned to their respective corners.
“Crystal Shield!” Affie cried as the Frunge girl nocked a fresh noodle arrow.
“Wise Bow,” Flazint invoked, and let fly.
Again, the Vergallian girl leapt to the side, but this time the arrow curved in its flight like a guided missile to meet her. A golden bubble formed around Affie and absorbed the arrow without harm. The shield carried a two-second delay during which time the user couldn’t move, and Flazint rushed to nock another arrow.
This time the archer intentionally aimed out over the crowd before firing and then turned back to meet Affie’s charge. The arrow reversed course and returned to catch the Vergallian from behind just as she reached Flazint, again triggering the golden glow and giving the Frunge girl two seconds to duck out of the way and pull another arrow from her quiver.
“How are we going to split up our commission in these projects?” the Grenouthian ambassador asked the president. “Since there are three theme parks and only one noodle weapons factory, I’m thinking seventy-five, twenty-five.”
“Seventy-five for me?”
“Very funny.”
“The way I see it, the documentary tours to Earth offset the theme parks, so it’s one-to-one, plus we have the open world community, so two-to-one.”
“Two for me?”
“You should be on stage,” the president replied.
“Sixty-forty, and I’m only offering that much because I like your style.
“Fifty-five, forty-five, and you start hiring human tour guides.”
“But they don’t speak any of the important languages,” the Grenouthian protested.
The negotiation was interrupted by a deafening drumming sound as the other bunnies in attendance thumped their bellies in appreciation of the duel’s conclusion. Affie and Flazint took their leave from the improvised ring, the Frunge girl carrying an empty quiver.
“Let me out there,” Baa hissed at Judith, who was blocking the way into the booth. “Listen to that applause. They want me.”
“I promised Dorothy to stick to the script, and everybody knows that the enchanter comes out last,” the ringmaster said stubbornly. “Why are you always like this at our fashion shows?”
“Because I’m right.”
“Excuse me, coming through,” Jorb said, squeezing gingerly around the Terragram mage. “Let’s go, Tzachan.”
“I don’t know why I’m playing a wizard,” the Frunge complained. “I’m just an honest attorney.”
Following the pattern of the models who had gone before them, the two men went to opposite corners while Judith found her place in the script.
“Enchanted weapons are one thing in role-playing, casting spells is another. What defense can a player mount against the magic of a hedge wizard?”
“Did Judith just make fun of Tzachan’s hair vi
nes?” Kelly asked her daughter.
“It’s a role-playing term. It just means he never went to wizard academy or something.”
Tzachan brandished a staff topped with a large glowing crystal, and he pointed one hand at the Drazen and began reciting a spell. Jorb immediately raised his axe and cried, “Peaceful Rest.” All around the Drazen martial artist, everybody suddenly found themselves compelled to stretch out on the deck and go to sleep. The last thing Kelly remembered was making a pillow of one of the Grenouthian ambassador’s furry legs. Jorb looked puzzled for a moment, yawned, and then collapsed himself.
A loud “Oops,” was heard from the musical instruments booth. “Not my fault,” Baa called in the general direction of the ceiling.
There was a popping noise as Jeeves terminated his supersonic flight and hovered above the booth. The Stryx spun three hundred and sixty degrees to survey the damage. “Knocked out everybody in the room,” he commented. “Where were you with that trick a couple of days ago when Dorothy was spending all of my money?”
“If Gryph will let me tap into the grid, I can wake them all up,” Baa offered. “It really was an honest mistake.”
“Hold on,” Jeeves said, swooping down to the booth directly across from the one taken by SBJ Fashions. “What do we have here?”
“You tell me. I can’t see what you’re doing.”
“It’s our friend Ajalah, the Vergallian secret agent. If I’m not mistaken, that’s a very illegal piece of technology she’s holding in her hand.”
“Let me see,” Baa said, leaping over a mound of slumbering bunnies. “I thought Alpha wave jammers were banned on Stryx stations. How much do you want to bet that she was trying to get the bunnies all riled up so they’d storm the booth and wreck any deal for new open worlds?”
“No bet. And while it’s forbidden to use brainwave jammers, they can be imported in small quantities for legitimate research and development purposes,” Jeeves said, taking the device in his pincer and crushing it.
“You know, you could have sold that for a lot more than whatever Dorothy could possibly have spent on fabric.”
“Sometimes we all have to follow orders. Now I’m going to ship naughty Ajalah back to Vergallian space on a slow recycling barge. Go ahead and wake everybody up when I’m gone.”
“So you owe me, right?”
“How do you figure that?”
“If my enchanted axe hadn’t put everybody to sleep, the Vergallian would have blown your deal for noodle weapons, not to mention the political fallout.”
“I suppose if you agreed to handle all of the complaints that are going to arise from everybody who was present, I could see my way—”
“Never mind,” Baa interrupted. “Get out of here so I can start waking them up.”
“Cleanup on aisle one,” Jeeves declared cheerfully, and hoisting Ajalah, headed for the travel concourse.
Nineteen
The doorman at the Vergallian embassy looked Samuel up and down and shook his head in dismay. “Underdressed, as usual.”
“What do you mean?” the co-op student demanded. “I’m going to clean out the back storeroom for the ambassador so she can pick out what else she wants to send to my mom’s tag sale.”
“Change of plans. Ball starts in twenty minutes.”
Before Samuel could make up his mind whether to run home and change or to wear one of the embassy-supplied suits, Aabina came up behind him and pushed him through the doors.
“Get in there. I’m counting on you to give me a break from dancing with old men all night.”
“Are you just getting off work?” Samuel asked the Vergallian ambassador’s daughter. “I didn’t realize it was that late on my mom’s clock.”
“That’s because you’ve adjusted to my mom’s clock, where every day is the same length,” Aabina replied. Then she pointed at her ear before adding, “She wants you to stop in her office. I’ve got to get changed and do my hair so I’ll see you on the dance floor.”
Samuel bit back his reflexive response that her hair was already perfect and made his way to the ambassador’s office. The doors slid open at his approach, and even though she was engaged in a holographic conference, Aainda waved him in.
“I triple checked with the Imperial College of Law and the regulations are absolutely clear on this point,” an older woman in the hologram was saying. “Ambassadors have ten cycles to arrange for shipment of personal items from an embassy after the end of their term. Anything remaining behind after that time may be disposed of as the replacement ambassador sees fit.”
“Thank you, Counselor,” the ambassador said. “Give my best to my sister and her girls, and remind them I expect my planet to still be in one piece when I return.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” The hologram winked out, and Aainda favored her co-op student with a brilliant smile.
“Are you planning on leaving Union Station?” Samuel asked.
“I just wanted to make sure about my legal position in selling the items left behind by prior ambassadors. As you heard, it turns out I can dispose of it all as I wish. I hope your mother won’t feel like we’re taking advantage.”
“Don’t worry. The Dollnicks and the Grenouthians have been dropping off more and more every day. My dad thinks it’s funny, because the way he sees it, the whole point of holding a tag sale is to save having to move the stuff yourself.”
“We all worry about rumors. Does a tag sale mean that an embassy is closing or that the ambassador has financial difficulties? Then you have to consider the practical aspects. Many of us live in our embassies and holding a sale on the premises isn’t feasible. Your family’s situation is somewhat unique. Ambassadors who live in private quarters have limited space and no ‘outside’ like your parents have managed by living in a ship parked in a hold.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Ambassador Czeros has a yard, sort of, but it’s not easy to find his house, and his ancestors are always complaining.”
“Hurry up and get changed,” Aainda said. “We’re holding a celebration ball and the most influential Vergallians on Union Station will be here.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“I received a priority message from the Imperial Intelligence service requesting we get somebody to clean out Ajalah’s quarters and send all of her things back to Vergallian space. It appears that she was suddenly recalled.”
Samuel felt like a pile of second-hand furniture had been removed from his shoulders and he practically danced his way to the storage room that he’d been using as a walk-in closet. As he changed for the ball, there was a distinct ‘ding’ in his ear, and the name “Vivian” appeared on his heads-up display.
“Accept,” he subvoced. “What’s up?”
“Are you getting ready for bed?”
“I just got to work and it looks like a long one.”
“Don’t forget you have the Flower tour.”
“I’m going straight to meet Jorb when I finish here. The trade show is over, so when I get back from Flower, I can sleep for a week.”
“As long as you’re keeping your priorities straight,” the girl replied after a long pause. “I just had a thirteen-hour day with the Drazens so I’m off to bed.”
“Talk to you later,” Samuel said, pulling on the dress pants and tucking in the shirt before doing the magnetic seal on the waistband. Then he rushed through the bowtie, shrugged on the jacket with its long tails, and headed for the embassy ballroom.
The orchestra was already playing, and as usual, there were more upper-caste women than men in attendance. The co-op worked his way through the crowd until he caught the ambassador’s eye, and she nodded him in the direction of an elderly Fleet diplomat who never missed a ball. Samuel squared his shoulders, approached the dowager, and requested her company for the first dance.
Four hours later, just as the orchestra struck up the traditional closing instrumental, Aabina rescued the EarthCent ambassador’s son from a visiting Vergalli
an businesswoman who had already claimed four dances.
“I think I wore out another pair of shoes,” Samuel groaned through his professional smile. “If it wasn’t for the soft-armor toes, that visiting agricultural minister would have poked a hole in my foot with her heel.”
“I heard her gushing to mom over what a wonderful dancer you are. Personally, I wish everybody danced with their spouses.”
“She’s married?”
“And her husband is handy, if you know what I mean.”
“He groped you?”
“Nothing that would show on surveillance video—it’s more about the intent of the hand than the location. A woman can tell. Your last partner was pushing the limits of good taste herself.”
“I’m glad I didn’t know,” Samuel said. “Is your convention officially over? I closed our booth today.”
“Yes, though most of the attendees are staying an extra day to visit Flower. There’s even talk of her hosting the next CoSHC conference and trade show. She certainly has the available capacity.”
“I’ve got to run and meet Jorb as soon as the orchestra stops playing. Did you know he wants to set up a dojo on Flower?”
“I heard he was chasing after a certain choir mistress.”
“Maybe, but he needs a job as well. Vivian hooked him up with Drazen Intelligence so he can earn some steady income while he’s building up the dojo.”
“That makes sense. The Vergallian agent on Flower is actually a distant cousin of mine, and from what I can tell, she enjoys her cover job so much that she would stay there even if she wasn’t double dipping.”
“What does she do?”
“She’s running a finishing school for young ladies. Poise, flower arrangement, hand-to-hand combat. Hey, maybe she can give Jorb some work.”
“He’s good at taking falls, but I imagine that playing the attacker and getting beaten up by teenage girls every day could get old after a while,” Samuel said as the music came to the end. He and Aabina exchanged formal bows, and then the EarthCent ambassador’s son was off to the storeroom to change back into his regular clothes to meet Jorb.