Empire Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 18)

by E. M. Foner

  “Negotiating with aliens who look down on clones will feel like a vacation after my last job. When I got home, I thought I would take a nice quiet position teaching diplomacy at the university, but the head of the department insisted on resigning in my favor. The next thing I knew it was school politics around the clock.”

  “I suppose that your sisters must have had a lot of grievances saved up from their years under a military government,” Joe said.

  “And then some,” the Gem ambassador said. “You’d think it would be easy for clones who share a form of limited telepathy to reach decisions, but take away the dictatorship and we couldn’t agree on anything. At my very first meeting, there was an argument about how many different stylus colors instructors should be able to invoke while drawing on active blackboards, and they were still fighting over the same thing when I resigned a decade later. Every little decision turned into a debate. It’s as if after growing up without choices, my sisters decided never to agree on anything if they could possibly avoid it.”

  “I can see that happening,” Kelly said, twirling a cherry by the stem while she waited for the chocolate to start flowing. “Did you enjoy the teaching part?”

  “It got better as the years passed. When I first started teaching it felt like I was lecturing younger versions of myself who were mainly differentiated by their clothes and grooming. But then we began getting students who had done all of their secondary education under the new system, and at least we argued about different things. The last couple of years I had an increasing number of young clones from the new male lines, and that made the discussions much more interesting.”

  “I can imagine. Is everybody satisfied with the compromise you reached to keep the empire together?”

  “Everybody?” Gwendolyn laughed. “More like nobody, but the alternative is even worse so we’re sticking it out. How about you? Gem Today ran a story before we left for Union Station about the possibility of a Human Empire, though it was pretty vague on the details. What have you decided?”

  “It’s not up to me or to EarthCent. The invitation to become an empire was tendered to our Conference of Sovereign Human Communities. CoSHC only represents a fraction of the people who have left Earth, or around a tenth of humanity overall, but it meets the empire criteria with a billion members spread over twenty star systems.”

  Gwendolyn swallowed a bite of vegetable quiche and sighed. “I almost forgot how good Human food is. So what has CoSHC decided?”

  “We’ll have an answer by the end of the tradeshow,” Kelly said. “Most of the sovereign communities are in no hurry to make themselves subject to a new government, but turning it down would confirm the old prejudice that humans are Stryx charity cases.”

  “Other than a few business people, we don’t have any Humans living on Gem worlds,” Gwendolyn said. “There was a joke going around the university that you know you’re succeeding as a species when the Humans start moving in.” The clone paused and put her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out right.”

  “Humans have always been opportunistic settlers,” Joe said. “It’s in our DNA.”

  “I traded on a few Gem worlds after the old empire collapsed,” Kevin said. “Everybody was so poor that I felt terrible I couldn’t just give my goods away, but I had a ship mortgage payment to make.”

  “What did my sisters have to offer in trade?” Gwendolyn asked. “We’re still having problems reintegrating with the tunnel network economy due to our lack of viable commercial products and services. If it wasn’t for our nanotechnology, we’d be complete beggars.”

  “I mainly traded for curiosities that I thought would sell at fairs. Basically anything small that was empire-issued since I figured they would eventually become collectibles.”

  “Do you have any ID bracelets?” the clone asked. “Everybody rushed to destroy them when the empire fell, but now they’re making a comeback as a fashion statement.”

  “I had boxes of them, but I lost it all when the pirates took my ship,” Kevin said with a sigh. “I’ve seen them for sale since then, and I would have made a fortune.”

  “Still the best trade you ever made,” Joe reminded him. “A ship for my daughter.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dorothy broke off her private conversation with the young Gem and announced, “Lance is coming to work for me at SBJ Fashions. It will just be part-time because he and Myst are starting at the Open University, but I need a nanobot programmer. Oh, and don’t leave until I can talk to you about the nanofabric, Ambassador Gem. Did your old ambassador pass along my request?”

  “So you’re SBJ Fashions?” Gwendolyn asked. “I checked the embassy message log when we arrived on the station, and I did see something about nanofabric, but I haven’t had a chance to read it all. I’m afraid that my predecessor decided to use up her saved vacation days when she learned I was returning, and she stopped coming in to work weeks ago.”

  Beowulf and Alexander abandoned their strategic posts near Margie’s highchair, where food scraps had a way of descending like manna, and raced for the door to greet Samuel.

  “Is that your little brother?” Myst whispered in Dorothy’s ear.

  “Myst?” Samuel asked before his sister could respond. “Wow, you look exactly like I remember.”

  “You’re all grown up,” the young clone said in amazement. “You used to be half my size.”

  “I think I was ten or eleven when you left so I couldn’t have been that small,” he said, moving around the table. “And you must be Myst’s, uh…”

  “Betrothed,” Lancelot said. “I’ve heard all about your family. Myst considered naming me after you, but she decided it would cause too much confusion.”

  “Ambassador Gem,” Samuel greeted the older clone formally. “Before Ambassador Aainda left for Jubilee, she asked me to extend to you the welcome of our embassy.”

  “Samuel works for the Vergallians now,” Kelly explained to Gwendolyn. “The Stryx have been using the co-op program at the Open University to encourage more cross-species diplomatic training, and the ambassador offered him a full-time position.”

  “It’s very nice to see you again, Samuel,” Gwendolyn said. “I’d be curious to hear what a young person like yourself thinks about the Vergallian system. To get out of my contract and return to Union Station, I had to promise my university that I’d write a diplomatic textbook.”

  “I should probably ask my ambassador’s permission before making any promises,” Samuel said cautiously. “But if you’re writing a textbook about tunnel network diplomacy, don’t forget to put in a big warning about alien observers.”

  “I think I saw an invitation for us to send observers for the Human Empire deliberative process in the message queue,” Gwendolyn said. “I hope nobody was insulted that it went unanswered.”

  “You should send Myst and Lance,” Dorothy said immediately. “I’ll embroider the swag bags myself, and they’ll get free rooms at the Empire Hotel and entry to the trade show.”

  “I’m not sure it would be ethical for me to choose Myst. Don’t Humans have a special name for giving plum assignments to favored family members?”

  “Nepotism,” Kelly said, “but seeing that the Gem were comprised of a single individual until recently, I can’t see how it would apply in this case.”

  “I wish you would sign up,” Samuel said to the young clones. “At least I know you won’t be demanding. Do you know what the Frunge honeymooners wanted last time I saw them?”

  “Expensive wine?” his mother guessed.

  “Two cases of pink grapefruits and a jar of tupelo honey. I never even heard of tupelo honey before, but it turns out that Drazen Foods exports it from Earth. A little jar was twelve creds!”

  “It’s a one-time affair, and it’s twelve creds less that I’ll have to worry about investing,” Kelly said. “Have you had any trouble with the Horten observers? The male seemed to be very argumentative.”

  “You didn�
�t hear about that? Aabina was worried it would end up on the Grenouthian news,” Samuel said. “He and the Drazen observer went at it in the food court.”

  “They got into a fight?”

  “An eating contest. You never saw anything so gross in your life. The Dollnick manager asked Libby to ping us, and we got there just as—I don’t want to spoil your meal,” he concluded. “Hey, the chocolate started running.”

  Kelly coated the cherry she’d been holding by the stem for the last ten minutes, and then surprised her family by feeding it to the Gem ambassador. The clone leaned back in her chair and thumped the table with both hands. “Oh,” she moaned. “That was almost too good.”

  “Try it,” Kelly said, pushing the bowl of cherries over to the young clones. “Where did Dorothy go?”

  “She ran back to our house to get something,” Kevin said.

  “You don’t live here with your in-laws?” Gwendolyn asked, looking from Dorothy’s husband to Joe. “Is this one of the alpha-male issues that our sociologists are worried about?”

  “Dorothy and Kevin were welcome to live in the ice harvester with us, the same with Paul and Aisha, but we have the room in Mac’s Bones for them to have their own houses,” Joe said.

  “Private space is probably more important for women than men,” Kelly told the clone. “We all have a nesting impulse. Didn’t you just say that the main priority on the Gem homeworld was creating separate living spaces?”

  “Yes, but I meant getting out of dormitory rooms with bunk beds. Standalone houses are unheard of in the cities and still rare in the countryside, though they’re making a comeback where small farms are possible.”

  Dorothy pounded up the ramp and rushed back into the room brandishing a white T-shirt. She carried it around to Gwendolyn and said, “I want to buy all of this fabric that you can manufacture.”

  “I don’t know anything about textiles,” the Gem ambassador said. “Is this a nanofabric of some sort?”

  “It’s THE nanofabric,” Dorothy said. “I got it from the lost-and-found. It’s fully programmable for shape, color, and a bunch of other stuff. When I showed it to Jeeves, it was a black sash like a bunny would wear. He hacked into the nanobot programming interface and changed it to this.”

  “May I see it?” Lance asked, and Gwendolyn passed him the T-shirt across the table. The young clone took a tab from his belt and brushed it against the fabric. “It’s just like you said,” he told Dorothy. “I heard about this technology in school, but our instructor said it hasn’t been manufactured in thousands of years. May I borrow this to do a complete scan and send the data home?”

  “It’s yours, or the ambassador’s. The station librarian told me that the Stryx received a request from your government to check their lost-and-founds for forgotten Gem goods that might have commercial value. She let me borrow it to charge up the nanobots and see how it worked, but I’m officially returning it to you now.”

  “We must be pretty desperate if we’re asking the Stryx to sort through their trash looking for something we can sell,” Gwendolyn said sadly. “Are you sure that nanofabric will have a market?”

  “Weren’t you listening when I explained to Myst and Lance? It’s going to be the biggest thing ever.”

  “There may be an issue with the pricing,” Lancelot cautioned her. “I concentrated on nanobot programming rather than manufacturing, but the scan I just ran showed a lot of molecules that I’ve never even heard of.”

  “But we can make more, can’t we?” Myst asked.

  “With the data from a deep scan, it’s just a matter of obtaining the feedstock and programming a nanobot factory to get to work, but who would buy a five-thousand-cred T-shirt, even one as heavy-duty as this?”

  “Just don’t repeat that when I introduce you to Jeeves,” Dorothy said. “It’s going to take a little coaxing, but I know we can bring him around. After all, it’s for a good cause. And forget about coming to the convention as an observer. If you can figure out the programming, you’re working with me in the SBJ Fashions booth. The show has three more days to run, and I have an idea that even Jeeves won’t be able to reject by the time I’m through with him.”

  Fourteen

  “I can’t wait to try that pasta sauce,” Kelly said to Donna. “It smells so good.”

  “Jonah started simmering it hours ago. The one he just made now was for the sake of the cameras, but you can’t cook a good tomato sauce from scratch during a live broadcast,” the proud grandmother explained. “What do you think of his assistant? I’ve never seen him so taken by a girl. Blythe told me that she’s practically moved into his room this week.”

  “Sephia? You must have met her before. Her father is Bob, the mayor of Floaters.”

  “I knew she looked familiar,” Donna said. “My memory must be getting as bad as yours.”

  “Libby says that my memory is above average for people our age,” Kelly retorted. “Look, he’s putting in the spaghetti to boil. I’m so glad you talked me into skipping lunch to participate in the audience. And here comes my favorite part of the show where he promotes an Earth product.”

  A Grenouthian cameraman maneuvered his floating camera closer to Donna’s grandson. Jonah produced a medium-sized device that featured a metal mechanism mounted on a boxy wooden base with a drawer. The audience gathered in front of the temporary set in the Empire Convention Center food court consisted largely of aliens, many of whom were enamored with Earth’s astounding variety of kitchen gadgets. They began guessing at the device’s purpose, in some cases placing bets.

  “My grandmother always told me that the longer you let the pasta sauce simmer, the better it will taste,” Jonah said, winking in Donna’s direction. “So let’s take a minute to watch a short message from the Organic Coffee Growers Association, and then I’ll show you how I like to start my mornings.”

  A holographic projection of a bearded man leading a donkey up a steep mountain path appeared, and Jonah began the voice-over from a script on his heads-up display. There was some groaning in the audience and creds exchanged hands as the aliens realized the kitchen gadget was a manual coffee grinder.

  “Your special assistant is pinging you,” the station librarian announced over the EarthCent ambassador’s implant.

  “I’ll take it,” Kelly subvoced. “Aabina?”

  “The working group chairs have finally submitted all of the questions their committees want answered before taking a vote. Daniel is getting everybody together now for a discussion and I thought you’d want to be there.”

  The EarthCent ambassador cast a longing look at the temporary set and her promised pasta before replying. “Of course. Where are we meeting?”

  “The center stage of the Galaxy Room. There was a break in the schedule and we’re taking advantage.”

  Kelly dismissed the connection and whispered to Donna, “I have to go. Can you save me a plate to warm up at the embassy later?”

  “Will do. Take this,” the embassy manager added, producing something wrapped in a napkin. “You need to eat something.”

  “What is it?”

  “Chocolate chunk cookie. I stopped by the Vergallian Embassy booth earlier to see how Samuel runs things.”

  Kelly slipped out of the audience and headed to the other side of the food court where one of the lower entrances to the Galaxy Room was located. She quickly navigated her way through the exhibitions of heavy equipment in the area under the stadium seating and emerged on the amphitheater stage.

  “Sorry about the short notice,” Daniel greeted her. “It’s just going to be a small gathering with the chair from each of the working groups and whoever else shows up. I figured that by moving fast we could cut down on the number of alien observers and save ourselves the heckling. And if Aabina didn’t mention, I’m hoping that you’ll be able to answer the questions about tunnel network responsibilities and costs, since you’re the one who goes to all of the required meetings with the alien ambassadors.”

 
“I go to the meetings, but EarthCent is exempt from the contribution requirements due to our probationary status,” Kelly said. “I can give examples of how these things are decided, but I never paid much attention to the costs.”

  “Don’t worry. Wrylenth will be here and he’ll have all the facts. And the Galactic Free Press sent us the editor who handles their freelancers since they do most of the special project reporting.”

  “Roland?”

  “You know him?”

  “We’ve met, and I remember his name because of Beowulf,” Kelly said. “They’re probably the two most famous heroes from medieval epics.”

  “Learn something new every day,” Daniel said. “Aabina set out the place cards for everybody. Someday we need to invest in new active displays with voice programming for panel events.”

  Kelly took her place at the table that had been set up facing a seating section consisting of a couple of dozen folding chairs. She spotted an energy bar next to the water bottle behind her place card and scarfed that down, saving her cookie for later.

  Aabina rushed over when she saw that her boss had arrived. “I’m sorry we didn’t have any time to prepare,” she apologized.

  “Daniel filled me in on the details,” Kelly told her, nodding to Roland as the editor took his seat. “Do you have a list of the questions we’re going over, or will the working group chairs be posing them directly?”

  “I have them on my tab and I’ll read them.”

  The slow-footed Verlock employee of EarthCent Intelligence pulled out the carbon fiber chair on Kelly’s right and settled in his bulk with a sigh. Then he saw the expensive bottle of Dead Sea mineral water Aabina had provided for him and he perked up noticeably.

  “You look tired, Wrylenth,” Kelly said. “Is Clive overworking you?”

  “I slept over a hundred hours last cycle, I’ll be fine,” the young Verlock replied at the near-human speaking pace he’d achieved through constant practice. “How is Samuel managing? I saw him working the Vergallian booth in the tradeshow, and I know he’s been helping Aabina with the observers. Is he taking Farling stimulants to remain awake?”