Soup Night on Union Station

by E. M. Foner

  “Libby?” Kelly and Donna asked simultaneously, and then the EarthCent ambassador continued. “Do the recipes in the All Species Cookbook have to be from tunnel network members?”

  “It’s up to you,” the Stryx librarian replied. “I’m a bit surprised that nobody has mentioned the Alts.”

  “The Alts, of course,” Chastity said. “Remember the spread they laid out when we went to visit them with the alien ambassadors? Everybody loved it.”

  “If nobody needs me, I have a thing,” Daniel said, rising from his chair. “I’ll put the word out for recipes and give everybody a deadline of next Friday. No point in dragging it out.”

  “I should be going too,” Blythe said. “I’m meeting with a Dollnick literary agent later and I haven’t finished going through our market data yet.”

  “You couldn’t have had an analyst abstract it for you?” Chastity asked incredulously.

  “Not EarthCent Intelligence data, InstaSitter data. Some of the girls have been sharing book recommendations for after their clients go to sleep, and it’s a great place to spot up-and-coming romance authors for all of the species.”

  “Tell them to read more news,” Chastity called after her sister. Then she rose from her seat, followed by her managing editor. “Don’t let Aunty Kelly overwork you, Mom, and let Walter know if you need anything.”

  “I’ll let you know and you can tell Walter,” Donna replied. “Aabina, I’m going to make sure I’ve added everything that’s coming up to the office calendar so you can fill in for me doing day-to-day embassy management, if that’s all right with you.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Doogal,” Aabina said. “I’m going to have the most interesting resume of all of the young royals in the empire.”

  “Aren’t you returning to work, Wrylenth?” Kelly asked the Verlock, who hadn’t moved from his chair.

  “I’m concerned with the speed at which you make decisions,” the bulky alien answered honestly. “How can you move ahead with such a momentous project without at least commissioning a study to determine the probabilities involved?”

  “That’s very sweet of you, Wrylenth, but you know that math isn’t our strong suit. Would you feel better if I invited you to attend our next intelligence steering committee meeting?”

  “But I’m an alien—to you, I mean.”

  “To be perfectly honest, many of the ambassadors were uncomfortable with the results of our new civil service exam when it turned out that the aliens who took it all passed with flying colors. But after hearing me talk about you and Aabina, I know for a fact that three of the steering committee members have signed up for the co-op program with their local branch of the Open University, and I’m sure they’d like to meet you. Besides, you’ve been working for EarthCent Intelligence long enough now to know that we don’t have any secrets worth keeping.”

  “That’s true.” Wrylenth hesitated for a moment. “I would never violate my co-op confidentiality oath, but with your permission, I would like to seek advice from Ambassador Srythlan. He is one of the senior Verlock diplomats on the tunnel network and he might detect a pitfall in all of this that’s escaping me.”

  “You may talk to him about our plans for the All Species Cookbook with my blessing,” Kelly said. “And don’t forget to tell him about the potluck meeting. Aabina will contact all of the embassy managers and work out a time.”

  “Could I have a minute?” the Vergallian co-op asked Kelly as soon as the Verlock exited the conference room.

  “You can have the rest of my day if it will keep you here past the end of your co-op assignment.”

  “My mother asked me to arrange a confidential meeting with you, preferably in the Vergallian embassy. There will be a third party in attendance, but I can’t tell you who for security reasons.” As Aabina spoke, she brought both of her hands up under her chin, and extending her index fingers, began sliding them against each other like she was trying to start a campfire by rubbing two sticks together.

  Kelly stared, and then almost blurted out “A Farling,” before catching herself. “I understand,” she said. “I’m available at any time.”

  “Now would work, if that’s possible. There’s something else my mother asked me to bring up, and we can talk about it on the way.”

  Kelly stuck her head through the opening from the conference room to the embassy reception area and called to Donna, “We’ll be back.”

  “Don’t forget to bring Aabina,” the embassy manager replied, before returning to her work.

  The co-op student didn’t speak again until they reached the lift tube, and then she requested, “Vergallian embassy, the long way around.”

  “We can do that?” Kelly asked.

  “The station management is very accommodating in these situations,” Aabina replied. Then she let out a long breath and said, “It’s about the cookbook.”

  “But you thought it was a great idea. I wouldn’t have even known the All Species Cookbook existed if you hadn’t brought it up that time.”

  “The thing is, Vergallians have their issues with the cookbook as well.”

  “Really? I thought that all of the recent editions made Vergallian vegan the largest section.”

  “That’s just it,” Aabina said. “Have you ever been to a Human Burger restaurant in alien space?”

  “I haven’t, but Dorothy and Kevin visited a couple of Human Burger franchises when they took a trip and accidentally got married a few years ago. They thought it was funny that the only thing they could order at the Drazen franchise was fruit salad that came from a fifty-five-gallon drum.”

  “In other words, it wasn’t authentic Human food.”

  “I guess that other than the fruit salad the restaurant used local Drazen ingredients and served them Earth style. Are you saying that Vergallian vegan isn’t what Vergallians eat?”

  “What passes for Vergallian vegan in alien space is basically diet food that’s been overcooked to kill anything that might give anybody indigestion. The problem is that now everybody thinks they know Vergallian vegan because they’ve had it at some point in their lives. But it’s the equivalent of going to a steak house and ordering the one menu option for non-meat eaters when you want a good vegan burger.”

  “Do aliens cook the salad too?”

  “No, but have you ever had Vergallian salad dressing?”

  “I don’t believe I have.”

  “That’s because it’s an art form and it has to be served fresh. Royal Vergallian households employ a—you don’t have an equivalent term in English—salad dressing chef who does nothing else. And every town you visit on Vergallian worlds will have at least one bottling shop where you can choose from fresh dressings and art-glass bottles. They’re universally popular gift items.”

  “I never knew that,” Kelly admitted. “But didn’t the Vergallians have a turn editing the All Species Cookbook?”

  “Yes, but our version of Universal proved to be so opaque that even the AI had to guess at the recipes.” Aabina paused as the capsule came to a halt and they exited on the Vergallian deck. “There were some rumors that it wasn’t a true language at all, but the Stryx approved it.”

  “Well, I’m sure Donna will be happy to accept any guidance you can give her as to which recipes to include. You know, Joe has a way of barbecuing Vergallian vegan burgers so they don’t taste that bad with enough condiments.”

  Aabina grimaced at Kelly’s unintentional slight, nodded to Raef at the embassy entrance, and showed the way to her mother’s office. “I’ll wait in the lobby while you meet,” she told her employer.

  “You’re not coming in? I trust you implicitly.”

  “The third party insists on absolute secrecy,” Aabina said, and politely triggered the door opening sensor.

  Kelly stepped into the Vergallian ambassador’s office and noticed a shimmer to the air. She wasn’t sure whether she should pretend to be surprised at the sight of a Farling, but the beetle saved her the trouble by immediately begin
ning to talk.

  “Don’t sit,” G32FX said. “The less time you spend here the better the chance we have to keep this meeting a secret. Aainda and I have come to a tentative agreement that will benefit all of us, but it depends on a number of things going right and the agreement from major players who have yet to see the final treaty. None of this can happen if word gets out before the deal is made, so we can’t fill you in on all of the details, but I can assure you that your cooperation is vital.”

  “I’m sorry,” Kelly said. “Are you asking me to agree to something without even knowing what’s at stake?”

  “The future of Earth,” the Farling rubbed out on his speaking legs.

  “He’s being melodramatic, as usual,” Aainda spoke up. “I can tell you that if we can bring this business to fruition, it will be the greatest diplomatic coup in tens of thousands of years. As part of a three-way deal, the Farlings are seeking access to Earth for the purpose of scientific research—”

  “Ambassador!” G32FX interrupted. “Remember our agreement.”

  “—no different from the arrangements you’ve already made with a number of tunnel network species. I’ve already told him that in spite of past differences, Humans are eager to establish direct relations with alien species and to create new economic opportunities for Earth.”

  “I’m sure our president would be thrilled with the opportunity to negotiate with the Farlings,” Kelly said.

  “And the whole drug thing?” the beetle asked.

  “You mean the fact that some of your businesses engineered addictive drugs for humans? Our own pharmaceutical companies operated much the same way for over a century, and my understanding is that the Farlings recently stopped supplying the pirates.”

  “You see?” Aainda said to G32FX. “I told you we have nothing to worry about.”

  The Farling peered intently at Kelly through his multi-faceted eyes and reached his conclusion, “That’s all for now. We’ll be in touch.”

  Eight

  Joe ambled up to the group on the holographic projection stage in the area of Mac’s Bones set aside for the EarthCent Intelligence training camp. “Holding a private dance contest?” he inquired.

  “Judith is helping Marcus with the 3-D motion capture system and Chance and I are helping Judith,” Thomas replied. “It’s all for your daughter’s latest scheme.”

  “Dorothy does have a talent for roping in helpers,” Joe observed with a chuckle. “She’s already drafted my co-op student and her boyfriend to represent the Hortens at her first dance event. But how does the holographic training system for intelligence agents fit in?”

  “Bob and I took ballroom lessons from Chastity’s husband before Dorothy’s wedding,” Judith explained. “Marcus has a holographic capture system in his dance studio, but it’s not as flexible as the one Thomas and Chance have engineered for immersive training simulations. Your daughter is convinced that the greatest obstacle to increasing her potential market is people who never had formal dance instruction as children and are too embarrassed to start now. So we’re going to create interactive beginners lessons that will work with any home immersive system using Marcus and Chance as the one-on-one instructors for humans.”

  “How about the other species?”

  “They’re all far more likely to have had classes while they were young, so we’ll get to them later.”

  Beowulf gave a sharp bark and motioned with his head for Joe to get a move on, but the EarthCent ambassador’s husband held up his forefinger to request a delay.

  “I saw on the Grenouthian news that a mystery Farling is visiting Union Station, and they showed an image of him in their notable arrivals segment. It must be M793qK stopping in to pick up medical supplies that he can’t get on Flower, so I was thinking of putting together a card game in his honor.”

  “Different Farling,” Thomas told him. “The older beetles all have unique carapace patterns and that was G32FX. It’s a good thing that Lynx is still on Flower because she had a bad experience with him during our first mission together.”

  “I’ll have to remember to mention it to Kelly,” Joe said, and then gave in to the Cayl hound’s head-butts. “Sergeant Beowulf says I need more exercise so I’ll see you all later.”

  Joe took a few half-hearted jogging steps before settling back into a walk for the remainder of the circuit around the periphery of Mac’s Bones. As he passed the opening in the mound of scrap that provided privacy for Dring’s corner of the hold, Beowulf slowed down in expectation of a possible visit, but Joe spotted Marilla walking towards the ice harvester and changed course to intercept her.

  “Good morning, Mr. McAllister,” the Horten girl called as soon as she saw him.

  “You look very professional,” Joe complimented Marilla. Instead of her usual coveralls in garish safety colors, the co-op student wore a metallic business suit of a cut that Joe didn’t recognize, but which he assumed was the current fashion for her species. He dug around in his pocket and came up with a thin silver case. “That suit reminds me that I have something for you.”

  Marilla’s skin turned a brownish-orange as she accepted the gift, a color Joe had come to associate with anticipation. She opened the cover and her face instantly flushed with pure brown joy. “Marilla, Vice President of Engineering, Tunnel Trips,” she read out from the business card. “Vice President?”

  “Turn it over and read the other side.”

  “It says the same thing in Horten,” she marveled. “But I’m too young, nobody will believe it. Is this one of those weird Human jokes?”

  “I’ll let Paul explain the rest to you. Here he comes now, and it looks like he talked Jeeves into attending the auction.”

  “Somebody looks like a happy Horten,” the Stryx observed. “I take it you’ve given her the news?”

  “Just the business cards,” Joe said. “She’s worried that nobody will believe her.”

  “They will when you show them this,” Paul said, pulling the tab from his belt holster and swiping it to life. A few taps and he handed it to the Horten girl.

  “This is the Stryx business registration for Tunnel Trips,” she said, studying the document. “It’s—you’ve made me a ten percent owner!” The Horten girl’s voice went so high that Joe missed the last couple words despite the fact she was speaking in English.

  “I talked it over with Aisha and we both agreed that it’s the right thing to do,” Paul said. “The stake reverts to the business treasury if you quit in less than ten cycles. That wasn’t our idea, it’s just the way the Horten lawyer your ambassador recommended drew it up.”

  “Ten cycles is the absolute minimum,” Marilla told them. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, thank you so much.”

  “Are you sure this won’t get you in trouble with future in-laws?” Joe teased the girl.

  “The opposite,” she said. “Hortens have a saying that equity knows no species. An ownership stake changes everything because now I’m working for myself.”

  “Great,” Paul said. “Let’s get out to the auction lot and see what we want to bid on, partner.”

  “Did you and Jeeves finish culling out the ships you want to sell?” Joe asked.

  “Yes, and I mainly stuck with the list we’ve been working on for years. We’ll keep everything that has potential as a family trader, but we’re getting rid of the barges and the bigger stuff.”

  “And the yachts,” Jeeves added. “Nothing goes obsolete faster than fashionable spaceships because they’re no good for anything other than showing off that you’re in fashion.”

  “Coming from an AI who owns a fashion business, I guess we’ll have to take that as gospel truth,” Joe said.

  “Part-owns a fashion business,” the Stryx reminded them. “You can’t spell SBJ without the Shaina and the Brinda.”

  Samuel caught up with the group just as they reached the tug that Paul had bought for Mac’s Bones over twenty years prior using his winnings from gaming as a teen. “Hey, guys.
Taking the Nova out?” he asked.

  “I was sure you’d stay in bed this morning,” his father said. “I was asleep before you got home last night and it’s the first day of your surprise vacation.”

  “There’s no point trying to change my sleep schedule for just a few days and I’ve gotten used to napping,” Samuel said. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a Sharf ship-carrier parked in the auction lot and we’re looking for anything we can convert into rentals,” Paul said.

  “Great, I’ve never been on a ship-carrier. They’re supposed to be huge.”

  “And Zero-G, so you’ll have to grab one of the spare sets of magnetic cleats from the Nova,” Joe said, as they ascended the ramp to the tug’s technical deck. “Why don’t you co-pilot with Paul, Marilla? I’ll stay down here and catch up with my prodigal son.”

  The Horten girl didn’t need to be asked twice, and she followed Paul up the companionway to the bridge. Samuel dug a pair of spare cleats out of a supply locker and strapped them over his boots as the Nova came to life.

  “Not going to get in trouble with your elders for giving us auction advice?” Joe asked Jeeves.

  “I would never do anything that interfered with the competitive balance between the species,” the Stryx replied disingenuously. “It just happens that I’m in the market for a small ship myself.”

  “But you can travel in space without a ship,” Samuel said. He took his place on the acceleration couch next to his father.

  “They come in handy for carrying things. Besides, my partners have been planning on visiting a few of the stations where our fashions aren’t selling well to investigate trying some pop-up boutiques. It means hiring locals who are capable of sales and management.”

  “You mean factory direct, to cut out the middlemen? Wouldn’t it make more sense to open stores on the stations where sales are strongest?”

  “The boutiques that are our biggest customers wouldn’t be happy if we went into direct competition with them. It’s a balancing act,” Jeeves explained, maintaining the exact same floating height above the deck as the Nova got underway and Samuel felt his weight increase. “It may be time to procure a small ship for business use.”