by E. M. Foner
“Then where did you learn them?”
“From other Drazens. It’s kind of a thing with them.”
“Tell me one.”
“No way. Do you think you could grab that paintbrush and cut in along the deck?”
“I’ve never even seen a brush like that. Why aren’t you using my dad’s sprayer?”
“It would just get gummed up with this stuff. The paint is specially formulated to hide old colors in a single coat, and it’s also supposed to encapsulate any microscopic spores that may have survived the vacuum,” Kevin explained. “I was on a Sharf orbital a few years ago when they recovered a ship drifting in space that had a human crew. When they did the autopsies…”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” Dorothy interrupted, putting her hands over her ears and humming loudly until she saw that he had given up. Then she tried to push Alexander’s head off of her lap without success and went back to stroking his soft fur. “I was going to help, but your dog won’t let me.”
“Alex,” Kevin said in a stern voice. “Go find your brother and play.”
The puppy rose, yawned, did a yoga stretch, and then trotted down the ramp and out of the modified scout ship. Dorothy looked after him for a moment, feeling a bit put out that Alexander had abandoned her so easily after all the attention she lavished on him, but that was the nature of the Cayl hounds after they chose a partner.
“So how does this work?” Dorothy asked, examining the paintbrush doubtfully.
“Dip the bristly end in the paint, clean off the excess on the edge of the tray so it doesn’t drip all over the drop cloth, and then apply the paint to the areas that the roller can’t reach.”
“I think it’s broken,” the girl reported after a few minutes. “The paint isn’t going on smoothly.”
“You can’t just poke with it,” Kevin said in exasperation. “Hold the brush so that the bristles just reach the tape I put down, and then draw it along in smooth strokes. That’s better, but you need more paint.”
After working for around three minutes, Dorothy took a break and pondered out loud, “I wonder why the previous owner wanted everything red?”
“I suppose she liked red. I’ve never met any Kurdas, but maybe they came from a world with a red sun. Lots of species like interior colors that aren’t shades of white. The habitat that Paul brought back for a house was all pale green inside when we found it.”
“Aisha mentioned that there was some sort of stain bleeding through the paint that the Dollnicks used in one of the rooms. We should go over and look. I haven’t even been on the top deck yet.”
“That doesn’t sound right,” Kevin said, working the roller back and forth in the tray in an attempt to sponge up any remaining paint. “The Dollnicks probably know even more metal coatings than the Sharf.”
“Why is that? Don’t the Sharf build more ships?”
“The Sharf don’t paint anything. They’re into additives that create different color alloys. The only reason I’m familiar with painting at all is that the used Sharf ship I bought with a Stryx mortgage had a black interior. Believe it or not, whoever owned it before me had added little glow-in-the-dark stickers of stars and galaxies to every surface. I kept on floating into bulkheads and having nightmares that I was outside without a spacesuit. I had to go over it three times with Earth paint before the white stopped looking gray. The trader who was selling the stuff warned me I should have chosen the oil-based rather than the latex, but I’d never painted before, and the latex was supposed to be easier to clean up.”
“Now that I think of it, I had to buy black polish from a Dollnick once, and he made it really complicated.”
“Well, this paint will cover anything,” Kevin continued, holding up the can as he tipped it over the roller tray and shook it in an effort to get another drop out. “You have to stir it up really good, because the thick stuff sinks to the bottom, and that’s what creates the barrier. The instructions say to turn the can upside down and shake it for five minutes, but I just made sure that the cover was on tight, and then I let the dogs play with it until they got bored.”
“You just used up the whole can to cover this bit of bulkhead?” Dorothy asked.
“That’s because it goes on so thick. It’s not just to cover the red and protect against flesh-eating fungi, you know. The Farling doctor suggested this paint because it blocks most harmful radiation. When I found out how much it cost, I almost got sick again. But when I complained to him about the price on my last visit, he told me how much he would have charged to fix up my radiation overdose if I had been paying out of pocket. All of a sudden, the paint seemed like a bargain.”
“Do you get a lot of radiation in space?”
Kevin looked at her incredulously. “You really are a station brat, aren’t you? Radiation is all that some traders talk about, like people back on Earth used to obsess about the weather. It depends on where you go and what kind of ship you’re in. The colony ships and alien navies all use active shielding, so it’s not an issue for them, but you don’t get that kind of protection on a cheap trade vessel.”
“Paul and Aisha don’t need radiation shielding in the hold, but the paint might still be worth the price if the area they need to cover is small,” the practical girl replied. “Let’s go take a look at their stain.”
“All right. I’m just going to step out of these coveralls since I’m done for the day.” Kevin pulled down the zipper that ran from his collar to his waist, shrugged his arms out of the sleeves, and let the whole garment fall down around his ankles. Underneath he was wearing his usual jeans and a T-shirt. Then he kicked off his sandals, stepped out of the coveralls, and hung them over the stepladder.
“You aren’t going to wash those? I could throw them in with our stuff.”
“Coveralls? I didn’t know anybody ever washed them, and anyway, I’ve only been wearing these since I started working with Paul and Joe.”
“Ew.” Dorothy clamped her thumb and forefinger over her nostrils, though the truth was she hadn’t smelled anything.
“Let’s go,” Kevin said, stepping back into his sandals and heading down the ramp. “If this doesn’t take too long, maybe we can go out and listen to some music or something. Anything other than that Horten band.”
“They’re actually really good,” Dorothy protested, bumping repeatedly into the boy’s side as they walked along until he finally got the idea to put his arm around her. “They were only playing those songs because Aisha invited all of the alien kids who have been on her cast.”
“So what’s with your brother and Vivian? I saw Molly and her son at the Farling’s medical shop yesterday. They told me that she has a crush on Samuel, but he’s in love with a Vergallian princess or something.”
“Queen, actually, though she has a protector because she’s too young to rule. She lived with us for a while when Aisha brought her home from the show after her Vergallian nurse abandoned her. Ailia used to follow Samuel around the way you used to follow me around,” she teased. “I guess Jeeves must have fixed them up with some secret way to keep in touch, but my brother won’t talk about it.”
“And your parents don’t discourage him?”
“They’re just kids, you know, and Vergallians mature much slower than humans. I think Vivian has a whole strategy laid out for winning him. She even started taking fencing lessons when he’s at work.”
“I saw. She’s scary good.”
“She’s scary good at everything, it runs in their family. Of course, Blythe was the same way about Paul and in the end she lost him to Aisha, but Vivian has the whole same-species thing working for her. Don’t let any of them hear you talking about it, though. They all think it’s a secret.”
“Aunty Dorothy, Uncle Kevin,” Fenna greeted the pair when they reached the newly-occupied habitat. “We have toilets now and everything. Did you come to look at the stain?”
“Yes, we did,” the ambassador’s daughter replied. “I hear it’s in your be
droom.”
“It’s not my bedroom if the stain keeps getting blacker,” the girl said, suddenly serious. “It’s getting squarer too.”
“Is that a word?” Dorothy asked.
“More square,” Kevin translated. “It sounds like an interesting stain.”
Fenna ran up the welded stairs that Joe had fabricated for accessing the upper decks, and Kevin and Dorothy followed at a more sedate pace. Aisha and Paul were busy on the second story rolling out new rugs purchased in the Shuk, but they waved off Kevin’s offer to help.
“Go on up and take a look,” Paul said. “Joe was pretty mad when he saw it. He headed over to the Dollnick repair facility right after supper to complain, but it’s not worth emptying the house out and moving it back there to get one little area repainted.”
“I was just helping Kevin paint and he has stuff that will cover over anything,” Dorothy boasted. Then she sped up the second flight of stairs to catch up with him.
Fenna stood in the doorway of her room, unwilling to enter. “There,” she said, pointing, though it would have been impossible for anybody to miss the source of her trepidation. “It’s gotten a lot bigger and darker. And more squarer.”
“That’s not the old color bleeding through,” Kevin observed. He walked right up to the blackening patch and crouched a little to get a closer look. “Fenna. Go and tell your father to come up here.”
“I don’t like it,” Dorothy said. An unaccustomed wave of anxiety swept over her.
Kevin turned back to the girl and his eyes went wide. “What happened to your bracelet?”
Dorothy looked down and saw that the runes on her bracelet were glowing like the time an alien from the Cayl Empire came to the lost-and-found to kidnap her. But unlike the bracelet’s reaction to the Lood, she could feel it thrumming with power, as if it were about to do something. “Get it off me,” she croaked, finding herself paralyzed from the neck down.
Kevin grabbed her forearm with one hand and reached for the bracelet with the other, but his hand kept slipping off of some invisible shield and he couldn’t get his fingers around the alien artifact.
Paul pounded into the room and swore out loud. “I just pinged Jeeves and he’s on the way, but he’s outside the station so it will be a few minutes.”
“I’m going to carry her out of here,” Kevin declared, and put his words into action, scooping Dorothy off of her feet. At that moment, there was a bright flash, and the section of bulkhead that had formerly been turning black suddenly disappeared altogether, revealing a figure lying on a narrow cot. Dorothy’s rigid body relaxed, causing Kevin to almost drop her, and the runes on her bracelet rapidly faded to black.
“I’m all right,” Dorothy said. “You can put me down, unless you don’t want to. Libby? What’s going on?”
“It seems that you have located the owner of the bracelet,” the Stryx librarian observed dryly.
“But you said I could have it.”
“After the bracelet went unclaimed in the lost-and-found for nearly six thousand years, it seemed like a reasonable course of action,” Libby replied. “Gryph did warn me that the owner was likely just taking a nap somewhere, but the lost-and-found is my responsibility, and I can’t keep things on the shelves forever.”
Aisha arrived just in time for the last part of the station librarian’s reply. “But Gryph included this habitat in the auction lot,” she protested. “How can he sell something for salvage with the owner on board?”
“Even Teragram mages are responsible for parking fees,” Libby explained. “Ah, she just pinged me for a language update. Perhaps she’ll explain her presence.”
Everybody turned to the humanoid figure on the cot who was just beginning to stir. The combination of feline facial features and bright feathers along the arms were reminiscent of an Egyptian goddess, but the most striking thing about the alien was the playful expression in her eyes.
“I am Baa,” she declared in perfect English. “Take me to your leader.”
“I’ll get Mom,” Dorothy offered, and fled the room without waiting for an answer.
“Don’t go too far with my bracelet,” Baa called after her. She swung her legs off of the cot, staying low to avoid bumping her head on the ceiling of the low compartment. After a brief pause, she rose unsteadily to her feet, supporting herself on the bulkhead. “Somebody painted over my entrance?”
“Badly,” Paul said. “I’m beginning to suspect that my friend Jeeves, who is conspicuously absent, has involved us all in an elaborate practical joke.”
“Jeeves is a Stryx?” Baa asked, offering a friendly feline smile to Fenna, who was peeking out from behind her father. “I expect the AI are displeased with my napping in long term parking without seeking permission. I understand from the station librarian that you have purchased my camper at an auction for unpaid parking bills. I do not object to the transaction as it clears my account with the Stryx at a considerable discount.”
“Camper?” Fenna piped up.
“That is the closest term I can find in this new vocabulary. Based on our current location, I assume that you are repurposing my camper as a stationary domicile. Given its lack of integrated propulsion and active life support systems, you’ve chosen a reasonable application.”
“You lived in a big empty box in space with nothing but partitions?” Kevin asked. “We thought it was an abandoned habitat that had been stripped.”
“I intended to furnish it when the remittance I’ve been expecting arrives from home, but something seems to have delayed it.”
“You’ve been in stasis over six thousand years waiting for a bank transfer?”
“I may have been overreacting to an adverse event in my personal life,” Baa admitted. Dorothy reentered the room, followed closely by her mother, who was panting a little after the two flights of stairs. The mage must have already recovered from waking, because she stepped confidently away from the wall she had been using as a support and addressed Kelly. “Are you the official representative of this charming new species?”
“I’m the EarthCent Ambassador to Union Station.”
“How convenient,” Baa said, her cat-eyes sparkling with good humor.
“I, uh, I’ve studied for this,” Kelly stuttered in frustration, straining to remember what came next without asking Libby for help. “As this is the first contact between our species, I want to assure you that our intentions are peaceful. We are members, I mean, probationary members, of the tunnel network, and if you aren’t familiar with the Stryx, I would be happy to make an introduction.”
“I see you’re well versed in the first contact protocols,” Baa complimented the ambassador. “My kind were present at the founding of the current tunnel network, though after examining the prospectus, we chose not to join. Aren’t you going to ask about my intentions?”
“Right,” Kelly said, giving herself a mental kick. “What are your intentions in initiating this contact?”
“I’m not sure I can be said to be the initiator,” Baa mused. “The only immediate item on my agenda is to recover my bracelet, for which I will happily compensate the young lady as soon as my remittance arrives. Something to eat would be very nice as well.”
“Do you think you can eat our food?” Kelly asked. “We’ve had supper already, but I haven’t had time to put away the leftovers yet. You’re welcome to come next door and see if there’s anything that won’t poison you.”
“How kind of you,” the mage replied, accepting her bracelet back from Dorothy. She held it up in front of her face and squinted at it critically. “Somebody has been fiddling with my multi-dimensional interface and I suspect a certain Stryx librarian. Is that your home, Ambassador?” Baa inquired, pointing out one of the large viewports at the ice harvester.
“Yes,” Kelly replied. “It’s nothing grand, but we have extra room if you need somewhere to stay.”
A smile split the feline face almost in two. “An offer of food and an invitation to stay. What a wo
nderful species!” she added as if to herself, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. “Now let’s see if everything still works properly. Last one there is a rotten egg.” A bright energy field enveloped Baa, and she vanished just as Jeeves floated into the room.
“I think you owe me an explanation,” Paul said to his friend.
“About the sleeper?” the Stryx asked innocently. “I came across her entropy cocoon while I was checking the auction lot for Aisha. All of the other species who were interested in buying are biased against Teragram mages, perhaps for good reasons, so I couldn’t say anything without ruining the price for Gryph. Besides, I thought it would make a nice surprise for the Ambassador. And if you get rid of the cot, it’s a great space for shelves or built-in drawers.”
“Why are so many species afraid of the Teragram mages?” Dorothy asked.
“They have a predilection towards playing gods to primitive cultures. The mythologies and histories of many of the tunnel network members record periods of Teragram influence or domination. They aren’t at all malevolent, just fond of lounging around and accepting offerings. As long as you don’t invite one for a meal or to stay in your home, you’ll be fine.”
Nineteen
“As this meeting room and the excellent catering were provided by the Stryx in order to facilitate our joint recommendation on the Humans, I believe we should make that our first item on the agenda. I also want to state for the record that my chairmanship of the piracy committee in no way extends to…”
“Enough, Crute,” Czeros interrupted. “I’ll chair the recommendation business if it means that much to you.”
“Can I stay and listen?” Kelly asked. “I might learn something.”
“The voting is confidential, Ambassador McAllister,” the Frunge replied formally. “If you’ll just wait in the corridor, I’ll come and get you as soon as we’re finished.”
“All right, but I’m taking my tea and these cookies with me,” Kelly retorted, placing her teacup on the cookie tray and rising from the table with both hands full. She walked slowly towards the exit, hoping to catch the beginning of the debate, but the alien ambassadors all remained uncharacteristically silent until the door slid shut behind her.