by E. M. Foner
“My ears are burning,” Bork said, joining the ambassadors and Jeeves. “As long as we’re on the subject of the cookbook, Kelly, I have a bone to pick with you.”
“I know we included your recipe for stuffed chili peppers. I began to sweat just looking at the picture.”
“It’s not about our section,” the Drazen ambassador said. He took a quick look around and lowered his voice. “It’s the Horten recipe for seafood chowder.”
“That wasn’t Ortha’s, it must have come from one of our communities on their open worlds by way of the Galactic Free Press. What was the problem?”
“Don’t attempt to add tentacle directly to the chowder,” Bork recited from memory. “Blanch the tentacles in boiling water for thirty seconds, and then bake at a low heat in their own juices for five hours, or until tender. Add the tentacles to the chowder just before serving.”
“It sounds like octopus or squid was substituted for something with tentacles on Horten worlds.”
“There are no sea creatures with tentacles on Horten worlds,” Bork complained. “Somebody must have put your people up to it just to get back at us.”
“Get back at you for what?”
The Drazen ambassador suddenly looked embarrassed for perhaps the second time Kelly could remember. “I just received an urgent ping from Herl,” he said. “Emergency meeting to discuss the Alts.”
“Did that make sense to you?” Kelly asked Aainda, as Bork hurried off.
“I think we’re about to hear the other half,” the Vergallian ambassador said. “Thank you for coming, Ambassador Ortha.”
“Quite a coup for you, my dear,” the Horten said, then turned to Kelly with a scowl. “After all the effort I went to fixing it so my son’s girlfriend could work for your husband, this is how you repay me!”
“I don’t know what you mean, Ambassador. The only part I played in the negotiations was agreeing to let the Farlings open a research facility on Earth.”
“I’m talking about the Drazen hit-job you published in the cookbook,” Ortha said, and pitched his voice so that the translation from Kelly’s implant sounded not unlike Bork speaking. “Drazen cocktails are too toxic for most species to imbibe without intestinal damage, but you can enjoy the aesthetics of a Divverflip by substituting for the acid. Prepare ice cubes with blue pea flower tea and watch any clear cocktail change colors before your eyes. Add sparkling juices to achieve hues from deep purple to vibrant pink, and your friends will turn green with envy.”
“You don’t think—”
“I don’t think, I know,” the Horten ambassador growled, even as his skin reddened with anger. “How could you have let such an obvious insult get past the censor? I demand you remove it.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Ortha. Besides, Bork was just complaining to me about a seafood recipe with chopped tentacle.”
“Oh, that. It was obvious the Drazens were going to try something so we were forced to act preemptively.”
“So can’t we call it even and move on? I had Aabina make sure that none of the recipes in the Horten section called for washing anything more than twice.”
“We’ll see,” Ortha said. “Our cookbook response team is still analyzing the recipes from other species to see if anything else slipped past you.”
Twenty One
Aabina climbed onto the holo-training platform at the EarthCent intelligence training camp and gave Beowulf the sign to begin. The Cayl hound tilted back his head and howled like a moon was about to crash into the hold, causing Alexander to join in for a test of endurance. When the improvised duet came to an abrupt end, Aabina took advantage of the sudden silence to begin her speech.
“Welcome everybody to the combined launch party for the All Species Cookbook and the new, soon-to-be-a-smash-hit on the Grenouthian network, Stone Soup. The broadcast premiere will be showing on the holographic system in just a few minutes, but first, could we have a round of applause to thank Joe McAllister and EarthCent Intelligence for making this space available on short notice?”
The audience, which included several hundred InstaSitters who had taken cooking classes from Jonah or participated in the LARPing league he started, gave a hearty round of applause. Alien audience members, including a number of ambassadors and their families, added their own distinctive noises of approval.
“Next, I want to thank all of the volunteers from the EarthCent mixers who took off time from work to help prepare recipes and stage them for the photo sessions at the embassy. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“We couldn’t have done it without her,” Donna said loudly to Kelly, as the audience applauded again. “If all of the surplus princesses turn out like Aabina, the Alts made the right decision. Did it ever occur to anybody that we would have been better off if the Stryx had let the Vergallians conquer Earth?”
“We’re doing all right for ourselves,” the EarthCent ambassador protested. “Jeeves even says that we’re useful.”
“We also have the first edition printing of the All Species Cookbook available for sale at half off the cover price,” Aabina continued. “If you ask nicely, Jonah, or the editor, Donna Doogal, might be willing to sign a copy for you. Put it in your family vault for a few thousand years and who knows what it will be worth?”
“She’s so good at this,” Kelly murmured to Donna. The crowd shifted subtly towards the folding tables where Thomas and Chance had stacked a few hundred cookbooks. Fenna and Kevin were manning the mini-register borrowed from his chandlery.
“My hand hurts just thinking about autographs,” the embassy manager said, but it was obvious that she was tickled with the idea of being asked to sign her work.
“You’re all welcome to stick around for dancing after the broadcast,” Aabina continued. “Don’t mind the Grenouthian cameramen, they’re just topping up on dance footage to fill the odd time gaps for Stone Soup.”
At this announcement, the young InstaSitters in the crowd began to whisper excitedly. Many of them pointed at their ears as they pinged their friends to drop whatever they were doing and hightail it for Mac’s Bones and a chance to be immortalized in a future Grenouthian broadcast.
“The Gem caterers will be setting up hot food while we watch Stone Soup, and every recipe they’ve prepared tonight is from the All Species Cookbook, so I don’t want to hear any complaints,” Aabina said. “On a more personal note, I have accepted an offer for full-time employment at the EarthCent embassy where I’ll be working in the newly created position of executive assistant. Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions about humanity.”
Kelly, Donna, and Daniel continued clapping loudly at this final announcement until the lights dimmed and the holographic system for immersive training lit up with the Grenouthian broadcast. A life-sized Jonah wearing a white apron appeared in a cozy kitchen, flanked by an attractive Frunge girl and a petite female Verlock.
“I guess the producer talked him into the harem concept after all,” Samuel said to Vivian, whose brother had recounted the contract negotiations for them.
“And it looks like he’s settling right into the celebrity role,” she replied, indicating where Jonah was busily signing the cookbooks that Fenna was ringing up under Kevin’s supervision. “Those girls are more interested in him than watching the show.”
“They can always get it on demand later. What’s wrong with the volume?”
“Sound!” dozens of voices from the audience called out, and whoever was running the holographic system made the correction almost instantly.
“—from right here on Union Station,” Jonah’s voice became audible mid-sentence. “We’re opening with a tribute recipe for Sharf omelets contributed by workers on one of their recycling orbitals. I’ll start with beating the eggs while my assistants prepare the vegetables.”
“He doesn’t look nervous at all,” Kelly marveled.
“It’s not live,” Donna reminded her. “Blythe told me they had to do six takes to ge
t through the opening scene.”
“Can I help you?” the EarthCent ambassador asked a young Drazen girl, who hesitantly approached the two women.
“Could you sign this ‘To my friend, Binka?’” the alien requested nervously, holding the cookbook out to Donna.
“Maybe you should go sit with your grandson,” Kelly suggested to her friend, observing that a line of InstaSitters with cookbooks was queuing behind the Drazen girl.
“My public calls,” Donna said, winking at the ambassador. “If you see Czeros, remind him that he forgot his borscht tureen. It’s in the embassy’s kitchenette.”
Kelly set off to find the ambassadors who she had spotted earlier near the temporary bar Joe had set up. Working her way through the crowd, she encountered the Horten ambassador’s son, who thrust a pamphlet in her direction before he recognized her.
“Sorry, Ambassador,” Mornich said. “Marilla is making me hand these out.”
“A recipe for travel success that won’t break your budget,” Kelly read from the cover of the Tunnel Trips brochure. “Who came up with the slogan?”
“Affie’s boyfriend, Stick. We were all kicking ideas around at Dorothy’s last dance thing. He seems to have a knack for marketing.”
“Have you seen your father?”
“Pop was arm wrestling with the Drazen ambassador last I knew. I think they were up to best out of twenty-one.”
Kelly paused and looked back at the holo-stage. A Drazen girl was grating some type of hard cheese while Jonah gave a detailed description of its manufacturing and aging process on Earth. The hologram was intercut with scenes from the Italian cheese factory that must have been supplied by Hildy Gruen, EarthCent’s public relations director.
“Ambassador,” M793qK called to her from the fringe of the crowd. “I was hoping to speak with you before heading back to Flower later this evening. Can you give me a little time?”
“I can do better than that,” Kelly said. “I can give you a few things to bring Lynx for the baby. Do you mind?”
“Em is hardly a baby,” the beetle doctor said. “She’s already started preschool.”
“In that case, I’ll send her some children’s books. We can talk while I pick them out.”
While choosing a dozen books to send back with M793qK, Kelly learned that the other Farling she had assumed was a spy, G32FX, would be heading the scientific mission to Earth. The rest of what the doctor told her about their detailed plans for recovering ancient DNA went in one ear and out the other, but it was sufficiently distracting that it took Kelly forever to choose the titles in Em’s age range. By the time she returned to the party, Stone Soup had wrapped up and the dancing was starting, though the line for cookbook signing was longer than it had been when she left. She saw Thomas guiding a cargo floater with another load of boxes into position behind the table and decided that her ordering mistake had actually been a subconscious flash of business brilliance.
The smell of freshly-baked cookies compelled her towards the tables where the Gem caterers had set up, and as she approached, the EarthCent ambassador spotted a giant paw stretch out from under the table cloth that draped to the deck, and drag back what looked like a fallen half-sandwich. Then she heard a loud yelp and saw Alexander bounding backward from a tiny Frunge woman who she didn’t recognize.
“Is he bothering you?” Kelly asked.
“He tried the old bump-and-dump trick on me, but he seems to have forgotten who he’s messing with,” the Frunge matchmaker replied. “You must be the chaperone’s mother. You have the same eyes.”
“Kelly McAllister,” the ambassador introduced herself. “And you are?”
“Mizpah. Your daughter hasn’t mentioned me?”
“Are you the scary—I’m sorry,” Kelly interrupted herself, but the old Frunge just laughed.
“I’m here undercover so don’t tell her you saw me,” the matchmaker said. “This sashimi is excellent, it’s no wonder Alexander let his nose get the better of him.”
Kelly finally made her way to where the ambassadors were lounging around the keg on chairs somebody had brought over from the ice-harvester’s patio and arguing about advertising rates.
“You settle this,” Crute said, the moment the EarthCent ambassador was within speaking range. “The instantaneous ratings for the premiere were above the predicted range and he,” the Dollnick pointed at the Grenouthian with all three hands that weren’t holding a beer, “says that they can apply a surcharge to the negotiated ad rates.”
“It’s in the contract,” the giant bunny reiterated. “You can’t believe that we wouldn’t protect ourselves from an unexpected success.”
“Protect yourselves from success? What kind of sense does that make?”
“Say you were a prince instead of an ambassador and you terraformed a moon for a real estate developer who told you he’d be selling a million vacation estates to retirees for a million creds each.”
“An even trillion,” Crute said. “Standard deal is sixty percent for terraforming, or six hundred billion.”
“Correct. Now let’s say the developer turned around and sold the retirees the vacation estates for a million and a half apiece. Wouldn’t you want to protect yourself from that in the contract?”
“Dollnick retirees have a million creds to spend on retirement estates?” Kelly asked in amazement.
“That’s not the point,” the Grenouthian ambassador said. “When we sell commercial time, it’s for an estimated range of viewers, and if twice as many sentients end up watching, we have to recoup our theoretical losses.”
“What happens if you overestimate the number of viewers?” Crute demanded.
“Well, that’s different. We do have fixed expenses.”
“I’m going to talk to Aainda,” the EarthCent ambassador excused herself, not having any interest in a business argument featuring numbers larger than a hundred, or millionaire alien retirees buying vacation estates. The Vergallian ambassador was standing with Jeeves and Baa, and Kelly was sure they changed the subject when she approached.
“Come join us, Ambassador,” Aainda said. “The premiere was lovely. I can’t wait until your future son-in-law-by-marriage cooks up some Vergallian vegan.”
“Is son-in-law-by-marriage an official family relationship for Vergallians?” Kelly couldn’t help asking.
“All family relationships are official with us, it makes things much easier when we have to arrange for hostage swaps during visits.”
“It’s all in my book, Vergallians for Humans,” Jeeves said. “I don’t see the need to mention that it’s on the official EarthCent reading list for diplomats.”
“I’ll ask Aabina to summarize it for me,” Kelly retorted. “I’m glad you could come, Baa. Dorothy told me that you’ve been a great help with her new promotions.”
“Glass slippers are easy once you get the hang of it,” the mage replied modestly. “The only problem is settling on the prize.”
Not far away, a trio of teens who had been summoned late to the party by their InstaSitter girlfriends were standing as close as they dared to the keg, trying to goad each other into asking the old man to sell them a beer. Before any of them could muster up the courage to ask, they heard a quiet voice from the side say, “Psssst, over here.”
“Are you talking to us?” the tallest of the young men asked the Vergallian, who was just a little too handsome to pass as human.
“I’ve got something that will help you relax and dance so you won’t need that beer,” Stick told them. “Come over here where everybody can’t see.”
“What is it? Some kind of alien drug? Hey, do you sell Kraken stick?”
“Better than that. Do you all have implants?”
“Yeah.”
“Sure. I’ve jacked into stuff,” the stockiest youth said boldly.
“Did you think we just fell off a pepper barge from Earth?” the youngest of the trio demanded.
“No, you guys are cool,” Stick reassured the
m, and passed each of the young men a small black memory module that looked a bit like a poker chip. “Try jacking into this.”
“I’m all in,” the leader said, though his hand shook a little as he held up the memory module and squinted at it. “How does it work?”
“Activate your heads-up display and you should see a new menu option to side-load Shadow Dancer. It connects wirelessly.”
“Is this for real?” the youngest kid said, his eyes going wide as the proper foot positions for the current ballroom dance appeared before him. “It’s not some kind of gag to make us look bad?”
“Solid as Stryx,” Stick promised. “It’s the latest thing from SBJ Fashions, but your girlfriends don’t have to know.”
“Will this cover it?” the leader asked, pulling out a handful of creds and offering them to the Vergallian.
“Shadow Dancer is on the house tonight. Tell your friends.”
“Dude!”
The three youngsters danced off in search of their girlfriends, placing their feet in the ghostly outlines. Stick checked his pockets, and finding he was fresh out of memory modules, headed back to the SBJ Fashions table to restock.
“Are you giving Shadow Dancer to guys who are using it or just dumping the memory modules in the trash?” Dorothy demanded. “I’ve got Tzachan, Samuel, and Wrylenth working the floor with you, but none of them have even used up their first batch yet. How many times have you been back?”
“Four,” Stick said. “If you let me charge for the memory modules we’d be raking it in. You really have to ask Thomas to program a counter to keep score of successful foot placements and get those kids competing with each other. I bet we could hook half the young gamers on the station, and then charge extra for add-ons, like special dance moves.”
“Or instructions for what to do with their arms,” Affie commented. “Some of the boys look like they’re doing a ballroom version of—what did you call it, Dorothy?”
“Irish step dancing,” the ambassador’s daughter told them. “Well, we’re all out of memory modules, Stick, so you’re done for the night unless you want to take pity on Srythlan and distribute his share.”
