by E. M. Foner
“I don’t understand.”
“It was Shaina’s idea. She suggested routing the observer requests for assistance through the station librarian, and if they’re just asking for somebody to help carry packages or teach them how to use chopsticks, the call is reassigned to InstaSitter. I haven’t gotten a ping in over three hours.”
“That’s great. It frees you up to help keep the working groups on track.”
“They don’t need any help. The only reason they’re delaying a final vote is to take advantage of the meals and drinks our embassy is buying for their meetings.” She pointed at one of the brochures. “Did you know that Atien is my homeworld?”
“Of course. Are you excited that your mom is going to open it up to alien immigration?”
“Somebody had to take the lead, but the funny thing is that as soon as my aunt made the announcement, two more worlds from the Imperial faction jumped on the ferry. Now that they’ve promised not to undermine humanity, the Empire of a Hundred Worlds is going to try to make a profit off Humans.”
“I thought they’d be too busy making a profit off the Alts.”
“The way my mother structured those agreements, the princesses who run things for the Alts all have a fiduciary duty to their contract subjects. It’s good training for a queen-in-waiting, and there are some opportunities for profit-sharing, but I’ll bet most of the princesses who take the job could earn more as fashion models. Of course, then they’d have to deal with the whole dieting thing.”
“Can I get a bottle of Union Station Springs water, or are you too busy flirting with the princess?” a voice interrupted.
“Vivian!” Samuel hastened to dig a cold bottle out of the ice bath and passed it to his fiancée, who took it with her prosthetic tentacle. “When did you get back? Why are you all geared up for the tradeshow?”
“I got back twenty minutes ago, and I’m in disguise because I’m working,” the girl replied, stifling a yawn. “I’ve been assigned to check out the new line of floaters being produced by the factory on Chianga. It’s just a busy-work assignment—I could get all the information by asking a sales rep. There’s a demonstration in the Galaxy Room starting in five minutes.”
“Shouldn’t you go home and get some rest?”
“I went into stasis for the trip back to avoid Zero-G sickness and I’m still waking up,” Vivian explained. “What are you doing here, Aabina?”
“The ambassador sent me to give Samuel a break since he’s been doing so much for us lately. Why don’t the two of you go check out the demonstration together? I’ll cover the booth.”
Samuel didn’t need a second invitation and happily escorted Vivian out of the Nebulae room. “How was your trip?” he asked.
“If I never see another immersive starring Jeelop Huir it will be too soon. He’s over four hundred years old and the Hortens keep casting him as a romantic lead.”
“There’s no law saying that middle-aged aliens can’t have a love life.”
“But he was playing across from a Horten actress who must have been Marilla’s age,” Vivian said. “It’s creepy.”
“Did you sit through the whole thing?”
“I had to, it was part of the assignment.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “The truth is, the Hortens have a pretty competitive lineup for the new season. I’m afraid we’re going to lose ratings.”
“You mean the Drazens are going to lose ratings.”
“Who else would I be talking about?”
Samuel almost launched into a lecture about over-identifying with alien employers before recalling that she could level the same charges in his direction. Instead, he said, “I got a message from Jorb reminding me that I promised to give him a month’s notice so he could come to our wedding and bring Rinka. How about picking a date?”
Vivian’s prosthetic tentacle started twitching, and she had to reach up and grab it with her left hand to regain control. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” she mumbled. “We may have to delay a little longer than I thought.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If we wait until I have three years in at Drazen Intelligence, they’ll foot the bill for everything.”
“What bill?”
“For the wedding. You didn’t think I was going to let an Elvis impersonator marry us, did you?”
“It was good enough for my parents. You’re not planning on doing something like Dorothy’s wedding, are you? Jeeves still complains about the cost, and that’s after he got a commercial out of it. Besides, your mother already said she wants to pay, and she’s one of the richest humans on the tunnel network.”
“She didn’t get rich turning down perks,” Vivian said stubbornly.
The EarthCent ambassador’s son came to an abrupt halt just outside the Galaxy Room and grabbed his fiancée’s hand to stop her from entering. “What’s this really about? I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t? I was at the top of my training class in dissimulation at Drazen Intelligence. What part didn’t you believe?”
“You admit you’re lying to me?”
“I’m supposed to practice whenever I get the chance. It’s part of being a spy.”
“Put all of that aside for a minute and tell me what’s really going on.”
Vivian sighed and straightened the prosthetic extra thumb that had shifted when Samuel grabbed her. “We have to wait because of my job, but it’s not the money. Okay?”
“Just tell me already.”
“Drazen Intelligence has a minimum marriage age for agents. I guess it came about because they hire young females for undercover work, and then they get complaints from parents about girls falling in love with their handlers.”
“How long are you talking?”
“They prorated my age for our life expectancy, so it’s only another year and eight months.”
“I’m really not okay with your agreeing to this,” Samuel told her. “I’ve been ready to get married since the day I proposed. If Drazen Intelligence has a rule against it, quit and come to work for us.”
“I’ll never work for the Vergallians,” Vivian said fiercely.
“I meant EarthCent Intelligence.”
“Everybody will treat me weird because my father runs it.”
“Hey, Viv,” Jonah said, falling in beside the couple and giving his twin’s prosthetic tentacle a playful tug. “Did you come to see Sephia’s demonstration?”
“Who?” Vivian asked. She did a quick dance move to put her brother between herself and Samuel, effectively postponing the argument about her job interfering with wedding plans.
“My girlfriend,” Jonah said. “You didn’t watch Stone Soup while you were away?”
“I was too busy watching Horten sneak previews. Do you mean one of the InstaSitter assistants you have on the show as guests finally got her hooks in you?”
“Sephia is from Chianga, the Dollnick open world where they manufacture floaters, and she’s been my guest assistant for three days already. Her father is the mayor and she’s here doing all of the demonstration driving. Let’s get in there before it starts.”
As soon as they entered, a young woman wearing a racing uniform in factory colors approached and grabbed Jonah’s arm. “Come on,” she said. “You’re riding with me.”
“Sephia?” Vivian guessed.
“Who’s the Drazen?” Sephia asked Jonah.
“My twin sister, she’s in disguise.”
“As long as it’s not catching,” Sephia said and offered Vivian a handshake. “Jojo didn’t mention the costume fetish.”
“Jojo?” Vivian asked in dismay. “You’ve known each other three days and you’re already using pet names?”
“Pleased to meet you,” Samuel said, grabbing Sephia’s proffered hand. “I’m her fiancé.”
“Do the two of you want to come with?” Sephia asked, apparently unbothered by Vivian’s reaction. “It’s just a demonstration, not a race, and the floater seat
s four.”
“Come on, Viv,” Jonah said. “It will be fun.”
“You know that I get motion sick at the drop of a hat,” Vivian said. “Flying around in fast circles isn’t my idea of a good time, but I’ll watch from here.”
“You guys go ahead,” Samuel told the other couple. “Vivian and I haven’t seen each other in over a week, and we’re actually in the middle of a discussion.”
“Then again, when’s the next chance I’ll get to ride around in a floater on Union Station,” Vivian said, and practically ran up the broad steps to the top seating section of the Galaxy Room. “Are you guys coming or what?”
The demonstration proved to be very low-key, with Sephia keeping the speed down so that the potential buyers who closely examined the stationary floaters on stage could appreciate the aesthetics of one in motion, rather than watching it blur past. Flying around the top tier of the stadium-style seating posed no challenge for the race-trained driver, and she quickly impressed Samuel with her direct speech.
“So when are you getting married?” Sephia asked a few minutes later.
“We haven’t set a date yet, but we’re working on it,” Samuel replied.
“What’s to work? Just pick a date and do it before you get old. I keep telling Jojo that living around so many aliens is dangerous for humans because you can start thinking in terms of their lifespans.”
“I spend less time around aliens than either of those two,” Jonah protested. “Vivian works for the Drazens and Sam works for the Vergallians.”
“And living on Union Station, you probably don’t make any decisions without checking with the Stryx first,” Sephia continued. “When I want to do something, I just do it. I’d rather make my own mistakes than to go through life with a nanny.”
“And you don’t imitate the Dollnicks in everything?” Vivian challenged her.
“Only when it suits me. I can admit that our hosts are better at everything than we are, but what they don’t know about being human would surprise you. It’s true some of us go native—my older brother wears a prosthetic arm set and whistles fluent Dollnick. I’m more interested in figuring out better ways we can do things ourselves than copying aliens.”
“I’m not trying to imitate the Drazens,” Vivian retorted, her prosthetic tentacle standing up angrily.
“She’s undercover,” Samuel explained. “It’s not like Vivian wears her Drazen gear when she’s not working.”
“Sometimes she forgets to take off the extra thumbs,” Jonah put in.
“Well, they’re useful,” Vivian said.
“I think the two of you should get in on the ground floor of this Human Empire thing,” Sephia advised Samuel. “You’ve obviously got the right connections, and it’s not like anybody from the open worlds is going to want to get stuck doing all that diplomatic stuff. My dad says it’s because Earth governments were so bad that everybody who emigrated equates politics with corruption, and they’ve passed that belief on to their children and their children’s children. Dad’s been the mayor of Floaters since before I was born, so he knows what he’s talking about.”
“We did have to offer perks to scare up enough bidders at the auction to fill all the working group seats,” Samuel admitted. “I know that the human leadership on open worlds is usually selected in imitation of the way the host species operates, but I didn’t realize the people were so anti-government.”
“They’re not anti-government, they’re anti-human-government. Even the youngest tunnel network members have had at least a half-million years to work out stable systems that pretty much take care of themselves. Humans are still making it up as we go along, and we just aren’t very good at it.”
Thirteen
“What’s the special occasion?” Dorothy asked her mother. She set Margie on the floor, and the two-year-old immediately toddled over to where Beowulf was relaxing on the rug in front of the couch and collapsed against the enormous Cayl hound’s warm belly.
“Where’s your husband?” Kelly asked in return.
“Dad caught us outside and drafted Kevin to help him move some kegs.”
“I’m not going to ask your father to stop craft-brewing, but I wish he would stick with bottling for friends and let the keg business go. He doesn’t want to give up supplying Pub Haggis for Ian’s sake, but it’s surprising how much beer they go through.”
“Are Paul and Aisha eating with us?” Dorothy asked, observing the extra plates on the table.
“They’ll stop over later. Come and help me put out the food.”
“What’s under that box?” Dorothy moved towards the table where an upside-down carton with the flaps folded out made for a strange centerpiece.
“No peeking,” Kelly said, corralling her daughter and herding her into the kitchen. The pair of them brought out the food, and Dorothy was sure she smelled chocolate. Joe and Kevin came up from the craft brewery on the lower level, Alexander padding silently after them.
“Wolfie!” Margie scolded the older Cayl hound, who rose so suddenly that the toddler landed on her backside.
Beowulf stepped over her and raised his nose to sniff. Then he broke into a huge doggy smile and raced out of the ice harvester, Alexander right on his heels. A few seconds later, the Cayl hounds began to bark excitedly.
“That’s his Myst bark,” Dorothy cried and ran for the top of the ramp. “It’s her, I mean, them. She’s with Gwendolyn and some strange alien.”
“I’ll get the box,” Joe volunteered, and carefully lifted the carton off of the chocolate fountain that Kelly was only allowed to put out for special occasions. “I turned it on a half hour ago so it should start flowing soon.”
Dorothy met the clones at the bottom of the ramp and threw her arms around her childhood friend. “It’s you! You haven’t changed at all.”
“But you’re so old,” Myst said in dismay. “What happened?”
“Time happened. You’ve been sleeping for a decade and I’m a married woman with a two-year-old daughter.”
“I’ve been dying to see Margie ever since you sent the message. Does she look like you?”
“Everybody who knew me at that age says she could be my clone. And how are you, Ambassador Gem?”
“Gwendolyn,” the older woman said, waving off her recently resumed diplomatic title. “And this is Lancelot.”
“Lance,” the alien said, performing a deep bow.
“From King Arthur’s Round Table?” Dorothy turned back to Myst as the identity of the strange alien finally registered. “He’s your boyfriend?”
“My betrothed,” Myst said proudly. “I named him myself.”
“But he’s not Gem!”
“Of course he is, silly. You’re just used to all of us being the same individual with different hairstyles and such. Does your husband look like you?”
“But it’s obvious we’re the same species.”
“I’ll be the judge of that when I see him,” Myst said with a laugh. “Aren’t you going to invite us in?”
“Yes, but listen,” Dorothy said, lowering her voice. “If you think I look old, you’re not going to believe my parents. Eleven years is a long time at their age, so don’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” Myst promised. “You just surprised me. You’ve really grown up.”
When the introductions and reunions were all completed, everybody took their seats at the table, and Lancelot couldn’t hide his excitement at the variety of food.
“Is this all safe for us?” he asked.
“One hundred percent,” Kelly told him. “The recipes are from the All Species Cookbook, and I double-checked with the Gem caterers that handle our embassy events just to make sure it’s safe for you.”
“We haven’t made much progress restoring our agricultural base,” Gwendolyn explained. “Moving from dormitories into private housing was on the top of everybody’s priority list, and most of the old farmlands of our homeworld have been overtaken by forest. There’s still a debat
e about how much food we should grow locally versus importing, because nobody really wants to cut down all of the trees.”
“Don’t tell me you’re still living on those factory-made nutrition drinks!”
“For the majority of us who grew up with them, it’s not that big a deal, and everybody gets an imported chocolate ration.”
“We had one solid meal a day in my school,” Lancelot told them. “When I was little, my big sisters at home also saved the real food they earned and gave it to me.”
“You have a family?” Dorothy asked in surprise.
“An adopted family. All of the new boys get assigned older sisters. I guess it’s different than growing up with a mother and father like Humans, but we’re learning.”
“Lance is a first-generation HY2X variant,” Myst said proudly. “He’s a year older than I am.”
“HY2X variant?”
“My sisters stuck with the names the Farlings used to label our DNA samples so we wouldn’t get mixed up when it’s time for our children to choose mates,” Lance said without a hint of embarrassment. “I grew up as HY2X-891 until Myst gave me a real name.”
“How did the two of you meet?” Dorothy asked.
“I picked him out of the male-order catalog,” Myst said. “There was just something about the way his hair fell over his eyebrow ridge that made him stand out from all of the other HY2X’s.”
“It’s called a bad hair day,” Lance said. “I didn’t know that I’d been chosen by the Hero of Union Station until the director of the pairing facility told me. It took me days to work up the courage just to speak in her presence.”
“He’s such a liar,” Myst said. “Right from our introduction, Lance did most of the talking. It’s all nanobots this, nanobots that. He was first in programming at his academy.”
“You know about nano-stuff?” Dorothy asked excitedly. “I have an idea for using Gem nanofabric that I just know is going to be a huge hit if I can get Jeeves to go along with it.”
The EarthCent ambassador shook her head as her daughter started regaling the young Gem with her plans for remaking the fashion world with programmable fabric. “So what have you been doing with yourself all these years?” Kelly asked Gwendolyn. “Are you looking forward to coming back to work as an ambassador?”