Soup Night on Union Station

by E. M. Foner

  Soup Night on Union Station

  Book Seventeen of EarthCent Ambassador

  Copyright 2019 by E. M. Foner

  One

  “In conclusion, it is the view of Union Station Embassy that the fastest way to an alien’s heart is through his or her stomach, and a successful bid for the editorship of the next edition of the All Species Cookbook will raise humanity’s profile as active participants in the tunnel network ecosystem while also giving us a chance to showcase innovative recipes from our own rich culinary traditions.”

  “Excellent,” Kelly whispered hoarsely to her Vergallian co-op student. “It took me years of practice to make it through an entire report without pausing.”

  “Thank you, Ambassador,” Aabina replied. “Memorizing and delivering speeches was a key component of my royal training. I’m honored that you would give me the opportunity to submit your report rather than asking Associate Ambassador Cohan to do it for you.”

  “He thinks I’m crazy for making weekly reports when they aren’t required. I believe his exact words were, ‘Why give them the ammunition?’ Most of the ambassadors only submit reports when something goes so wrong that the president is going to find out about it anyway.”

  “Shall I begin transmission?” the Stryx librarian inquired.

  “Yes, Libby,” the EarthCent ambassador replied in her normal tone of voice, then gave a pained look and went back to whispering. “I don’t know what I was thinking this afternoon at the Frunge reception when I let Czeros talk me into a duet. Human throats just aren’t designed to make those creaking sounds.”

  “If that’s everything for today, my mother is expecting me at her embassy. We’re hosting a breakfast for a visiting Fleet delegation, and they’re cousins of a sort, so I have to put in an appearance.”

  “Please, enjoy, and say ‘Hi’ to Samuel for me. I haven’t seen him at home all week and I’ll be in bed by the time he gets off work.”

  “Have a good weekend,” Aabina said, and exited the ambassador’s office.

  As soon as the doors closed behind her co-op student, Kelly glanced at the ceiling and asked, “Well?”

  “Your sore throat seems to have cleared up nicely,” the Stryx librarian observed.

  “You knew I was pretending all along, didn’t you? Do you think Aabina could tell?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, but it was still a nice gesture on your part. There aren’t many ambassadors who would fake an infirmity to let a co-op student from a different species make an official report to the home government.”

  “I don’t want to lose her, Libby. Do you think I could convince Aabina to stay around until I retire? Joe suggested giving her new responsibilities to keep the job interesting, but she’s so efficient that I’m running out of ideas.”

  “The point of the cooperative education program is to provide students with workplace experience, not to keep them permanently in low-paying jobs. And don’t forget that she’ll be out next Wednesday for the Open University’s halfway assessment.”

  “Halfway!” Kelly groaned. “Has it been three months already?”

  “She’s been working for you almost two cycles, and four cycles is the limit for participation in the co-op program.”

  “Can’t you make an exception?”

  “Do you want me to keep Aabina registered in school against her will so you can employ her without benefits?”

  “You know that’s not true. I’d love to hire her full-time, but even if EarthCent goes along with it, I don’t think it would be fair to offer her the job.”

  “You’re worried about her reputation with her own people.”

  “Of course. Being a co-op student gives her political cover—she’s working for us because the Open University assigned her here. But for a member of a Vergallian royal family and the daughter of their Union Station ambassador to take a job working directly for EarthCent…”

  “Would you have a problem if Samuel accepted full-time work at the Vergallian embassy when his co-op assignment is over?”

  “Of course not, if that’s what he wants, though I thought he’d be returning to the Open University. I know that the Vergallians would pay him much better than I could in any case,” she added ruefully.

  “But you would be comfortable employing Aabina for less than she could earn working the same job in her mother’s embassy.”

  “You’re the one who told me that she doesn’t need the money. I’m doing my best to pay her in experience.”

  “It would set a bad precedent to change the rules to accommodate a single student,” the Stryx librarian mused.

  “But it’s not just Aabina,” Kelly insisted. “Joe really enjoys working with Samuel’s Horten friend, Marilla. She’s a fast learner, the dogs love her, and she knows a surprising amount about running a rental fleet considering her only prior experience was cleaning returns. But I don’t see how she can stay on after the co-op period is up because she’s dating the Horten ambassador’s son. Ortha had to bribe somebody to fake their Peace Force records so it looks like she’s doing outreach work to a primitive species.”

  “As long as Ambassador Ortha and Joe are comfortable with the arrangement, I don’t see why it couldn’t continue without the Open University functioning as a middleman. The Hortens have been sending Peace Force volunteers to work with primitive species for hundreds of thousands of years. It’s the other side of the piracy coin.”

  “What does the one have to do with the other?”

  “The Hortens aren’t comfortable with behavioral extremes so they push their young misfits to separate themselves from polite society. Peace Force gives them a place to send the young idealists who would otherwise be demanding change at home.”

  “Aabina’s spoiled me, Libby. Maybe I’m just getting old, but I can’t imagine going into a meeting without her briefings. Since she’s started helping with my speeches I’ve been getting requests left and right to give keynote addresses at business conventions. We wouldn’t have even known about the All Species Cookbook if she hadn’t mentioned it as a possibility. I’ve been meaning to ask you how come it never came up before.”

  “Most of the cooks who have bought a new edition in the last million years have been AI. Can you guess why that is?”

  Kelly bit back her first response and gave it some thought. “Artificial intelligences don’t have taste buds?”

  “The cookbook was originally conceived as a way to bring the species together, but it quickly became apparent that the only way to guaranty safety was to limit the ingredient list to the lowest common denominators, foods that wouldn’t poison any of the tunnel network species. You’ve eaten Vergallian vegan?”

  “I try to avoid it.”

  “There’s a large section on Vergallian vegan, which might explain Aabina’s familiarity. You know that she keeps a strict diet.”

  “I try to get her to eat more, but—wait. Are you saying we shouldn’t be bidding for editorship of the cookbook? Blythe and Chastity both thought it was a great idea, and I assumed you would warn them if it wasn’t.”

  “You know I can’t provide that sort of competitive information. It wouldn’t be fair to any other species taking part in the auction.”

  “That’s the part I don’t get,” Kelly said. “From what I understand, the last major edition was published almost eighty thousand years ago. But after Aabina mentioned that the editorship was something we might want to look into, it turns out the next auction is only a few weeks away.”

  “The timing is controlled by the current rights owners,”

  “The Hortens, I know. I have a meeting scheduled with Ortha next week. I was surprised at how quickly he was able to find me an open slot.” Kelly p
aused again, reviewing the conversation in her mind and seeking any subtext in case the Stryx librarian was delivering hidden clues. “Will we be the only species bidding?”

  “That’s competitive information.”

  “We will, won’t we,” the ambassador concluded triumphantly. “But what’s so bad about editing the All Species Cookbook?”

  “What do you usually do when you have a question about the other species that I won’t answer?” the Stryx librarian prompted.

  “I ask Bork or Dring. Thank you, Libby. Dring is coming to dinner tonight so I’ll start with him.”

  “Will you be making something from the All Species Cookbook?”

  “Very funny. Dring is a vegetarian, or at least, that’s all I’ve ever seen him eat. He and Aisha are always exchanging seeds and recipes.”

  “And you can eat all of his produce?”

  “Of course, it’s just salad ingredients.” Kelly paused again and looked thoughtful. “That’s not true in general, is it? I tried a taste of a Grenouthian tomato once and I had to run for the bathroom, and you stopped me that time I almost bit into a Dollnick apple at an embassy reception.”

  “Just because it looks like an apple and the name translates to ‘apple’ doesn’t mean that it’s an apple.”

  “So why can we eat all of Dring’s produce? Does he get all of his seeds from Aisha?”

  “You’d have to ask her.”

  “Do you mean you don’t know or you aren’t telling?”

  “A Horten just entered the reception area and Donna isn’t at her desk.”

  “She left early because it’s Chastity’s son’s birthday and—you know that,” Kelly cut herself off and rose from her desk. On second thought, she grabbed her purse and then headed out to the reception area.

  “Ambassador McAllister?” the immaculately dressed alien with yellow-tinted skin inquired.

  “Yes. May I help you?”

  “My card,” the Horten said, producing a plastic chit with a flourish.

  Kelly accepted the card and studied the alien characters without success. “I’m sorry, I don’t even recognize this language.”

  “My mistake. If you have a coin, the silvery coating with Universal Eleven rubs off.”

  “Like one of those instant lottery tickets the Tharks sell?” Kelly dug in her purse for a five-cred coin, and placing the plastic card on Donna’s desk, carefully began rubbing off the coating. “What’s Universal Eleven?”

  “The eleventh attempt by linguists to come up with a written language that all of the tunnel network members can adopt for official correspondence and scientific publications.”

  “I’ve never heard of it. Was it any more successful than the previous ten?”

  “The only publication to use Universal is the All Species Cookbook.”

  “You’re with the cookbook?” She brushed away all of the little bits of silver coating the coin had rubbed off and saw a typical Horten business card, including a graphic that showed an egg of some sort being cracked on the edge of a mixing bowl.

  “Ursho, the current maintenance editor. I understand that you’ll be bidding.”

  “That’s our plan. I hope you don’t think we’re trying to put you out of a job.”

  “Not at all,” the editor hastened to reassure her. “My term as the caretaker has been an honor, but I’m more than ready to turn the keys over to the next species. I just stopped by to see if you needed any further information to put your bid package together because I’ve been informed that this will be the first time EarthCent is participating in the auction process for a tunnel network monopoly.”

  “Monopoly?”

  “Of course. You don’t imagine there are two official All Species Cookbooks, do you? It may be the smallest of the monopolies but it’s quite prestigious in certain circles.”

  “With AI cooks?”

  “Well, yes,” Ursho said, looking slightly deflated. “How did you know that?”

  “An educated guess. I don’t want to sound ignorant, but what are the other monopolies you’re talking about?”

  “There must have been a translation glitch,” the Horten said, turning a deeper shade of yellow and backing towards the exit. “If you need anything before the auction, just ping me, or better yet, have your bid team get in touch.” He turned and fled as soon as the doors slid open.

  “Libby?”

  “Yes, Ambassador.”

  “What other monopolies is he talking about?”

  “You’ll be late for dinner if you don’t get moving.”

  “So tell me in the lift tube,” Kelly said, picking up her purse and exiting the embassy.

  “I’m not hiding anything from you,” the Stryx librarian replied. “The tunnel network members are always generating new ideas for collaborative efforts and the All Species Cookbook is an early example.”

  “But why haven’t I ever heard of these monopolies before?”

  “We only grant them for low priority projects. When something affects the security and welfare of all tunnel network members, such as interstellar ice harvesting, there’s a proven diplomatic process for establishing treaties and enforcement mechanisms. Less important initiatives are subcontracted to monopolies which bid for the privilege of trying their hand.”

  “Sounds awfully haphazard,” Kelly commented, as the lift tube capsule set off without instructions. “Since you’ve been hiding the existence of these monopolies from us to date, I assume that there’s a reason.”

  “It’s possible that in some cases, accepting responsibility for a monopoly can have negative consequences,” Libby hedged. “As Ursho told you, the All Species Cookbook is the smallest of the monopolies, so the downside financial risk is relatively limited.”

  “Can you give me an example of a monopoly that went wrong, or are you going to make me ask Dring?”

  “Very well. Sometime back during a recycling craze, a number of tunnel network species became obsessed with finding a practical use for nail and talon clippings. Stryx Fersh on Cube Station created a monopoly to deal with the issue, and the Huktra won the management contract at auction.”

  “When Samuel was working in your lost-and-found, he got a big tip for returning a lost egg to a brooding Huktra mother.”

  “Their hatchlings are very competitive, and pushing any other eggs out of the nest is a common strategy for the firstborn. The Huktra also generate large quantities of talon clippings when living in space because they aren’t wearing their claws down in a natural environment.”

  “So what went wrong?” Kelly asked, as she exited the lift tube capsule and headed for home.

  “It was the first monopoly win for the Huktra and they wanted to make an impression. They started right off collecting nail and talon clippings from all of the stations on the tunnel network before coming up with a recycling plan. In the end, they spent a fortune on storage and shipping before giving up and dropping the lot into a black hole.”

  “Are you making this up?”

  “Cross my heart,” Libby responded.

  “Crossing your fingers is more likely,” Kelly muttered, but she resigned herself to waiting to ask somebody who wasn’t constrained by the rules the Stryx imposed on themselves when it suited their purposes.

  Joe had already set the table and was enjoying a vegetable smoothie with Dring when she entered the ice harvester and let Beowulf take her purse. The Cayl hound sniffed the handbag for signs of hidden treats or alien surveillance bugs, and then trotted off to put it on the bedroom dresser.

  “Good evening, Dring,” Kelly greeted the Maker. “Are all of those books for me?”

  “Cookbooks. You mentioned that you’re bidding on the All Species Cookbook monopoly and I thought you might want to review some previous editions.”

  “Real paper books? I thought it would just be distributed electronically. Libby mentioned that AI cooks were the only ones who ever bought it.”

  “Perhaps she meant the only ones who ever read it,” Drin
g said diplomatically. “The first editions usually sell out their print run as coffee table books or gag gifts, no pun intended. The illustrations can be quite nice.”

  “But nobody actually makes the recipes?”

  “I’ve spent many millennia in Vergallian space, and while it’s not on anybody’s top thousand list, academic cooks usually have one of the prior editions in their library. I had these printed up at the on-demand boutique the Galactic Free Press started operating for out-of-copyright works from Earth.”

  “I leafed through a couple of cookbooks before you got home,” Joe said. “The translations are so bad that I’d be afraid to follow a recipe for making hot chocolate with instant mix, but Dring says that’s typical for Universal.”

  “Why is that?” Kelly asked the Maker.

  “Lack of a sufficient corpus,” Dring explained. “Translation technology is a combination of clever algorithms and brute force pattern recognition. Your translation implants utilize equivalency tables distilled from the nearly infinite quantity of written and spoken words each species creates, but every iteration of Universal is an arbitrary language designed by committee with no reference to previous versions or living languages. Since the only real-world application for Universal is the publication of the All Species Cookbook, it’s like trying to recover a unique dead language from a single scroll. One of the reasons the cookbook is popular with AI chefs is that they enjoy the translation challenge.”

  “Then how do the Vergallians use it?”

  “They look at the pictures and estimate the quantities.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s the point of publishing a cookbook in a universal language that nobody uses?”

  “Ah, there’s an interesting story behind the All Species Cookbook that one of my brothers presented at the last historical conference I attended. The Grenouthians were responsible for the first edition, which came out several million years ago, and they solicited the help of linguists from a dozen different species to construct a language that nobody could understand. They never made their reasons public, but the goal was likely to disguise the fact that they were publishing a thick book of recipes that nobody would want to eat.”