Soup Night on Union Station

by E. M. Foner

  “I brought a pen,” M793qK said, handing the EarthCent ambassador a heavy gold ball-point.

  “All right,” she said, flipping back to the beginning and initialing every page of the DNA sequence in the corner. “Aainda said that this would square things with you and the Fleet Vergallians, but do you have any idea what they’re giving us?”

  “You don’t know? Then why are you signing?”

  “EarthCent would have agreed to your request in any case. The president is always eager to bring more aliens to work on Earth, and with all the people who have emigrated, it’s not like the planet is short on space. If you want dinosaur bones or something, you’ll have to negotiate with the owners. But maybe you can explain to me why we can eat the produce from Dring’s garden.”

  “Without analyzing a sample in the lab, the simplest explanation would be that he’s growing stock from Earth. Perhaps he visited long ago and keeps gathering seeds from his crops.”

  “That’s what I thought. I just can’t help wondering how long ago.”

  When Kelly finished initialing every page, she signed and dated the contract, followed by M793qK.

  “Keep the pen as a memento,” the Farling told her. “I’ll see you at the cookbook launch party.”

  “But why did you come to sign the contract rather than the G34 fellow I met at Aainda’s?”

  “G32FX. I’m the most senior Farling who has extensive experience dealing with Humans so it fell to me.”

  “But I thought you were an outcast.”

  “And I thought your son had won the Human mating lottery until his girlfriend stuck a bug on my back with her prosthetic tentacle.”

  “They’re engaged now.”

  “Then I guess it’s too late to start running psychological tests. See you next time,” the giant beetle said, stuffing the contract in his medical bag and heading for the door. “Don’t let Aabina take over the whole embassy.”

  “See you at the party,” Kelly called after him. As soon as the door slid closed, she said, “Libby? Was signing that contract the right thing to do?”

  “As it happens, M793qK consulted with me before writing the contract. But as a general rule, asking me for legal advice after signing is not a useful strategy. And you let the doctor get away without answering your question.”

  “I know, but he was going to do that anyway. Can you tell me how he went from being an outcast to some kind of senior Farling operative?”

  “Their internal politics make the Vergallians look like schoolchildren,” the station librarian replied. “The Grenouthian director from Aisha’s show just dropped by and Aabina is looking for you.”

  “On my way.”

  When Kelly emerged from her office, she saw the Vergallian girl explaining something to the giant bunny, who appeared to be in a bad mood.

  “Did you sell the Farling any ad time on our show?” the bunny demanded.

  “No, he was here about something else.”

  “That’s no reason to let a good opportunity slip. You know we’ve scheduled the premiere to run during your cookbook launch party.”

  “I know now,” Kelly said. “Have you run into problems selling the ad space? Our president mentioned wanting to run an Earth tourism campaign with a focus on ethnic restaurants around the world. His public relations person is supposed to get in touch with your producer.”

  “Hildy Gruen, we’ve already come to a tentative deal. And the answer to your question is that the ad space is already triple-booked, but a buy from the Farlings would lead to improving access to their network.”

  “How can you sell the same ad space three times? Are we going to get sued?”

  “It’s all in the contracts,” the director replied impatiently. “Everybody doesn’t watch at the same time or see the same commercials, it depends on the species and the network affiliate.”

  Twenty

  “There must be reporters here from every species on the tunnel network,” Kelly said to Chastity. “I would have offered Methan our embassy for his press conference, but I knew we wouldn’t have enough space.”

  “Still, it’s strange that he’d turn to the Vergallians,” the publisher of the Galactic Free Press replied. “I’m sure the Stryx would have given him a nice room somewhere if he asked.”

  “Maybe it has to do with all of the secret missions Samuel and Vivian have been running off on. Joe said if they reserve another one-day rental before the end of the cycle, they get a free piece of luggage.”

  Chastity scanned the crowd and nodded approvingly when she saw that Bob Steelforth and the paper’s photographer had fought their way to the front. “Look, there’s a Cayl reporter, and a Nangor. I must have spotted over a dozen species in encounter suits that I don’t even recognize.”

  “The Alts finally agreeing to join the tunnel network is a big deal. They’ll be the first new oxygen-breathing species since the Drazens and Hortens signed on, and that was around a half-million years ago.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting somebody?” Walter inquired dryly.

  “We never developed interstellar travel on our own so we don’t count,” Kelly told the paper’s managing editor. “The Alts made it without help, other than the Stryx moving them from Earth to their own planet back in their Neanderthal days.”

  “Wine?” Czeros offered, extending a glass to the EarthCent ambassador. “No? I guess I’ll just have to drink them both myself, then.”

  “Have you seen Bork?”

  “He’s over there against the wall with the other ambassadors. They delegated me to come and get you on my way back from the complimentary bar.”

  “I don’t think I’ll be able to see from there.”

  “We’ll find you something to stand on. Haven’t you noticed all of the reporters?”

  “It’s a little hard not to notice them when they’re all crammed in between here and the stage.”

  “And what’s that behind you?” the Frunge asked, pointing back the way they came in.

  “The exit. Are you suggesting that I leave?”

  “The Vergallian embassy has active jamming to prevent electronic surveillance, so the reporters will all have to go out to the corridor to file their stories. You don’t want to find yourself between them and the exit if the Alt says something newsworthy.”

  “I suppose I am getting up in years enough to play it cautious,” Kelly said, allowing Czeros to shepherd her back to the other ambassadors. “But I’m sure the announcement is just a formality.”

  “Then why make it in the Vergallian embassy rather than issuing a press release?” the Frunge ambassador countered. “Here they come now, so we’re about to find out.”

  Aainda accompanied Methan into the ballroom, but the Vergallian ambassador stood back while the Alt mounted the small stage on his own. The jabbering press representatives fell silent, and feeling a poke in her side, Kelly looked over to see that Jeeves had floated in to observe.

  “Fellow sentients,” Methan began. “Many of you have sent delegations to our world in recent years, and I know that the experience has been mutually educational. My people have invested millions of hours considering the Stryx invitation to join the tunnel network, with discussion groups ranging from our children meeting on playgrounds, to their grandparents watching that they don’t go down the slides headfirst. In light of what we have learned about the tunnel network and the galaxy at large, it is our decision to join the Vergallian Emp—”

  A roar erupted from the gathered press corps, drowning out the rest of the Alt’s sentence, and then one or more reporters from each species in attendance stampeded for the exit. A fleet-footed Grenouthian bounded ahead of the crowd and slyly triggered the doors to close as he passed through, creating a pile-up that bought the bunny a few more seconds for an exclusive. When Kelly got over the initial shock, she turned to Jeeves and subvoced, “What just happened?”

  “I’m sure Methan will answer everybody’s questions as soon as they stop shouting,” the young Stryx r
eplied. “You shouldn’t be surprised, given how nice the Alts are.”

  “Nice? But what kind of reason is that to join the Vergallians?”

  Jeeves just gestured at the stage with his pincer, and Kelly gathered that he didn’t want to steal Methan’s thunder.

  “Please, everyone,” Aainda’s voice came over the embassy’s public address system. “Our guest is happy to take your questions, but only if you behave yourselves and ask politely.” The shouting seemed to lessen for a moment, but then it resumed in full force, and the Vergallian ambassador added, “Don’t make me release the knock-out gas.”

  This threat did the trick, and the correspondents who had fought their way to the front of the stage all raised an appendage like school children and put on their best “Pick me” smiles.

  “Yes,” Methan said, pointing at the Grenouthian.

  “Is this the will of your planet’s population, or did she,” the bunny gestured at Aainda, “drug you with pheromones and hijack your press conference?”

  “Thank you for the question,” the Alt responded politely. “I believe that my statement reflects the will of my people, but as you point out, I could be saying that because I’m under an external influence. Aainda?” Methan addressed the Vergallian ambassador. “Am I only saying this because you’ve dosed me with pheromones to control me?”

  “Of course not,” Aainda replied. “Your people chose to join our empire of their own free will.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” the Grenouthian reporter objected. “She could be lying.”

  The Alt flinched as if he’d been slapped, and it took him a moment to compose himself. “I must ask you not to use such objectionable language in my presence. If you don’t find me trustworthy, would you be willing to listen to my wife?” Receiving a chorus of affirmations from the crowd, he gestured to the wings, and a simply dressed Alt woman carrying a baby made her way to the stage. “My wife, Rinla, and our youngest, who isn’t old enough yet to choose her name.”

  “I want to thank Ambassador Aainda for granting us the hospitality of her embassy and apologize on behalf of everyone present for the unfair accusation that was leveled against her,” Rinla said in a dignified voice. “I assure you that our choice to join the Empire of a Hundred Worlds on a trial basis was reached through a planet-wide deliberative process. With all due respect to the Stryx, the only other option to receive serious consideration was a request to close our space to outsiders.”

  “You’re saying that you never really considered joining the tunnel network?” a Dollnick reporter demanded, without waiting to be picked.

  Rinla shot her husband a pained look at the alien’s rudeness, but he shrugged as if to say, “You know that’s what they’re all like.”

  “We initially considered accepting the Stryx invitation, but it didn’t take long for us to realize that our people are ill-equipped to function on our own as tunnel network members. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings,” she paused to reposition the baby in her arms, “but our society is founded on cooperation, trust, and working towards common goals. Your tunnel network turns everything into a,” Rinla hesitated again, and steeled herself before uttering the objectionable word, “business.”

  The Dollnick gave a puzzled whistle that plainly meant, “Am I missing something here?” The other alien correspondents were equally confused by the answer, and they were all engaged in rerunning Rinla’s words in their heads to check for a translation glitch when Methan pointed at the human reporter, whose hand was still raised.

  “Bob Steelforth. Galactic Free Press. How can you join the Vergallian Empire when you don’t have any queens?”

  “Thank you for the question,” Methan said. “You’ve identified the precise reason we decided to accept Aainda’s proposal to join their empire. We wish to gain access to a highly trained cadre of professional administrators with experience in the rough-and-tumble galaxy we find ourselves in.”

  “Follow-up question. You’re referring to Vergallian royals?”

  “Exactly. Aainda has assured us of an ample supply of young princesses on attractive terms to act as our diplomats and manage our trade. By joining the Vergallian Empire, we not only gain access to the tunnel network under the favorable arrangement already negotiated with the Stryx by our new suzerain, but those of our people who choose to travel will be welcomed at Vergallian embassies, both on and off the tunnel network, in return for a modest user fee. Yes?” Methan concluded, pointing to another reporter.

  “Let me get this straight,” the Frunge said slowly. “You’re joining the Vergallian Empire in order for them to act as a shield between your people and the rest of us because you think we’re rude?”

  “Thank you for the question, though I wouldn’t have put it exactly that way myself,” Methan replied. “It’s true that we have run into some difficulties in our limited dealings with other species. For example, when we agreed to purchase the first hundred million environmentally friendly bicycles from one of your manufacturers, we thought that the price was the price. Later we learned that our new Frunge friend who represented the manufacturing concern was working on a commission basis, and that, at the risk of speaking bluntly, our loss was his gain.”

  “That’s just business,” the reporter objected. “The whole galaxy is caveat emptor.”

  “But we have no tradition of ‘Buyer beware’ on our world. We don’t hold it against you,” Methan hastened to add. “In fact, our experience with the bicycles helped us realize just how poorly suited we are for your competitive environment. Perhaps future generations will choose to adapt, at which point they might reconsider the Vergallian arrangement, but my wife and I intend to continue raising our children the way our parents raised us. Yes?”

  “Forgive me for speaking slowly,” a Verlock reporter rumbled. “Our experience with Alts attending our academies shows you to be an intellectually advanced and peace-loving people. Why didn’t you request management help from our emperor?”

  “Thank you for asking, and having visited a Verlock academy world myself, I would recommend your educational system to anyone. To answer your question, it never would have occurred to us to foist our problems on another species. Aainda came to us with the offer, explaining that we would actually be doing everybody a favor. Perhaps she could answer your question better than I. Ambassador?”

  “Thank you, Methan,” Aainda spoke up from where she stood. “I had planned to issue a separate press release after the current news cycle has a chance to digest the idea of the Alts joining our empire, but I suppose there’s something to be said for getting it all out there at once. I’m sure you all know that the Vergallian body politic has experienced a growing schism between an expansionist Imperial faction that believes it is our manifest destiny to absorb the Humans into our empire and the more independent worlds which disagree.”

  “The Alts offered themselves as a sacrificial exchange?” a Horten reporter blurted out.

  “As the Alts are originally from Earth, the Human homeworld, the expansionist Imperial faction has agreed to accept them as substitutes for the Humans, bringing to an end a painful episode. We also expect substantial savings on Imperial intelligence efforts to undermine the Stryx-backed EarthCent and the independent Conference of Sovereign Human Communities.”

  “This was the deal I was involved in?” Kelly asked Jeeves. “I didn’t know I was selling the Alts to the Vergallians.”

  “I think it worked out rather well for all involved,” the young Stryx responded. “The Farlings get to establish a scientific presence on Earth, the Fleet Vergallians save on reparations for Baylit’s armed incursion, the Imperial Vergallians heal one of their largest internal divisions, the Alts get a crop of professional administrators to keep the rest of you from eating their lunch, EarthCent no longer has to worry about continual harassment from Vergallian Intelligence, and of course, everybody wins with the All Species Cookbook. Think of it as our version of stone soup.”

  �
�Do you mean the Stryx were behind it the whole time? But Aainda did all the cooking.”

  “And we provided the pot and the stones.”

  “I get that the tunnel network is the pot, but—are you saying that we’re the stones?”

  “It would be more accurate to describe you as catalysts. I’m sure you’ve heard that every time a new species joins the tunnel network, there’s a window of a few hundred years to shake things up before everybody settles into a new normal.”

  “But how about the Alts?” Kelly asked, as in the background Methan began a response to a Sharf reporter’s question about shipping regulations, and the rest of the other correspondents began slipping out to file their stories. “Can’t you use them to bring about change?”

  “They’re too nice. Hello, Aainda.”

  “Stryx Jeeves, Ambassador. I hope you weren’t shocked by Methan’s announcement, Kelly, but Vergallian Intelligence has been breathing down my neck ever since I approached the Imperial Council, which leaks like a sieve. I never would have used our children if I had seen another option.”

  “You mean those overnight trips Samuel took with Vivian?”

  “I needed a way to convince the various factions that I had the backing of EarthCent. In negotiations between Vergallian worlds, we send a princess or a royal consort, but as EarthCent lacks royalty, I had to make substitutions.”

  “Just like we did with the alien ingredients in our cookbook, but what role did your daughter play?”

  “None she was aware of,” Aainda said. “I did encourage Aabina to take the EarthCent civil service exam when it was offered, and later I planted the idea of telling you about the All Species Cookbook. That was the final piece that made it all work.”

  “Getting her the job at EarthCent?”

  “Making sure that Vergallian vegan was finally presented in a positive light. You wouldn’t believe how frustrating it is for the most populous species on the tunnel network to receive no respect for our culinary traditions while the Drazens get by with drenching everything in hot sauce.”