Family Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 12)

by E. M. Foner

  “Five is perfect,” Kelly declared. “The current plan has us leaving Sunday evening, so you have two days to take care of any other business you may have on the station. Please enjoy your breakfasts, and if you have any questions, just ask the station librarian and she’ll get a message to me if it’s necessary.”

  “Thank you for volunteering me,” Libby said privately over the ambassador’s implant. “Please accompany the candidates to the Farling medical shop for a health inspection. It won’t take more than a few minutes.”

  “One more thing,” Kelly called out as some of the people began rising from their seats for second or third helpings. “The Stryx have arranged for a physician to check the people who are making the trip, I suppose to see if we need any inoculations and such. Will the five of you come along with me and we’ll get this over with?”

  All of the open-worlds reps were old road warriors, so there was no grumbling over the possibility of being poked by needles. The rest of the crowd remained behind to drink coffee and discuss plans for the trade show as Kelly led her group to the lift tube bank. A minute later they emerged on the travel concourse, not far from the Farling’s medical shop.

  “Just a word of warning,” the ambassador said to the reps. No stranger to showing groups around the station, she walked backwards in front of the five volunteers as they approached the small storefront. “The doctor’s bedside manner may leave something to be desired.”

  “Uh, Ambassador?” Ursula said, motioning with her chin. Kelly turned and saw the beetle, who must have been alerted by Libby, standing in the doorway of his shop.

  “I heard that,” the Farling rubbed out on his speaking legs.

  “I can’t believe I’ve done the same thing twice in one day,” the ambassador muttered to herself. “I should learn to keep my mouth shut.”

  “An unlikely development at your advanced age,” M793qK commented. “This will only take a moment if you can all pretend to be members of a moderately intelligent species. Follow me in one at a time so that the entrance scanners have a chance to recover from your vital statistics, and I’ll need a blood sample from each of you.”

  Kelly hung back, allowing Suzy to enter the shop first, and the rep from the Frunge open world emerged less than a minute later, looking rather pleased about something.

  “What did he do to you?” the ambassador asked, as the next in line entered the Farling’s shop.

  “He said I’m very clean and healthy for a human, and he complimented me on the color of my dress.”

  “Oh. I’ll see you Sunday, then.”

  The next three reps all gave Kelly similar reports as they emerged, and Dyhenth was laughing so hard when he came out that he couldn’t talk right away.

  “Did he give you something?” the ambassador asked suspiciously.

  “A clean bill of health. The doctor has lived on a number of Verlock worlds and his impersonation of them is uncanny. He’s waiting for you, now.”

  “For me? Libby?”

  “It’s just a formality,” the Stryx librarian replied soothingly.

  Kelly gazed longingly after Dyhenth as he headed off towards the lift tubes and then reluctantly entered the medical shop. A number of alarms sounded as she passed through the scanner bank.

  “Oh, dear,” the Farling said. “This won’t do at all.”

  “I hate needles,” Kelly pleaded. “I know my inoculations aren’t all up to date, but I’ll take my chances.”

  “Your inoculations? I see you’ve mistaken the purpose of this visit, Ambassador. My job is to protect the Alts from the introduction of foreign diseases.”

  “I don’t have any diseases,” Kelly asserted, but her confidence in that statement wilted under the impartial stare of the insect’s multi-faceted eyes, “Do I?”

  “If I had enough limbs to count up the contagions you’re incubating, I’d be a centipede,” the beetle retorted. He opened and shut several drawers, looking for some rarely used instrument, and finally came up with a device that reminded Kelly of two halves of a plaster mold connected by a hinge. “Ankle,” the Farling commanded.

  “What is that?” Kelly asked, backing away. “Am I some kind of paroled convict or something?”

  “You lack the education to understand its function, but you can think of it as a sterilization envelope generator. While it’s on your ankle, none of the pathogens brewing away within your mortal coil will survive beyond your skin.”

  “Did you put one of those on everybody?”

  “Of course not. Having been born to parents working on alien worlds, there was nothing wrong with any of them. You, on the other hand, must have grown up on your Earth, and I suspect you had the habit of touching things and rubbing your eyes. Between the highly evolved bacteria and viruses of your world, and the primitive state of your medical technology, it’s a wonder that any of you ever reached your full height.”

  “Libby? Do I have to?” Kelly asked out loud.

  “You won’t feel a thing,” the station librarian reassured her.

  “Ankle,” the doctor demanded again. The ambassador gave in, sitting down on the chair next to the machine that combined a Stryx register with a genetic sequencer, and allowed the insect to snap the bracelet shut on her ankle. “Come see me when you return and I’ll remove it.”

  “Shouldn’t I be worried about any of these alleged pathogens, you know, making me sick or anything?”

  “Your body has long since adjusted to their presence, which is why I’m loathe to remove them. As it is, you may notice a small side effect to your digestive system, for which I prescribe yogurt.”

  “But how could my diseases make an alien sick? I thought we were all too different for that.”

  “The Stryx gave me a list of organisms to screen for and you hit the jackpot,” M793qK informed her. “If the mission was planned to reach the planet’s surface, I would have advised against your participation as being too high-risk, but I understand that it will take place in orbit. In case of damage to the sterilization device, Stryx Wylx can always decontaminate any Alts you infect before returning them to their world.”

  “I can’t believe Lynx likes you,” Kelly said angrily. “You’re the worst doctor I’ve ever met. I think having a baby must have scrambled her brains.”

  “I expect that I’m the first real doctor you’ve ever met, if you’re going to start making comparisons. I might also point out that your cultural attaché just entered my shop and is standing right behind you.”

  Eight

  “That station is the crowning achievement of Drazen engineering? The Dollnicks build bigger colony ships!”

  “Don’t let any Drazens hear you say that, Dorothy, and concentric donut stations are notoriously difficult to design. You’re going to find that all of the artificial constructs in the galaxy are a bit of a letdown after living on a Stryx station.”

  “Is the docking hub at Zero-G, then? I was looking forward to getting back to gravity as soon as possible.”

  “You’ll appreciate weightlessness more when you help me unload the cargo. Just remember…”

  “I know,” she cut him off. “Mass doesn’t vanish with weight. Dad drilled that into me when I was a kid. What’s with all the dinging and flashing lights?”

  “Time to slave the controller,” Kevin said, flipping the protective guard off of the sole mechanical switch on the command console and thumbing the rocker into the ‘remote’ position. “It’s not like visiting Union Station where Gryph handles the nearby traffic with manipulator fields and all that the incoming ships have to do is shut down their engines. Every alien station on the tunnel network I’ve ever visited demands remote access to your ship controller to perform the docking sequence. Can’t say that I blame them, considering what’s at stake.”

  “Have you ever been here before?”

  “Five or six times at least. I trade at Drazen stations and colonies whenever possible because they like trying new things and it’s not that hard to read th
eir body language. There were times I went through my whole inventory trying to find a gadget that would interest a Frunge, but you can always swap half of an uneaten sandwich to a Drazen and get something in return.”

  “I used to have a Drazen babysitter before she got promoted into management. What are the other main species on this station?”

  “There are usually some alien merchants or tourists, but I doubt they come to one percent of the population.”

  “No decks for different atmosphere mixes?”

  “The Stryx are the only ones who go out of their way to support mixed populations. This is a Drazen station. It’s basically a supply hub and connection point for their ships in this sector.”

  “That doesn’t sound very interesting. You mean that everybody living on it is basically a warehouse employee or works for a transportation company?”

  “There are at least a million inhabitants, so you’re talking about schools, restaurants, everything that they need to live comfortably. But it’s nowhere near as spacious as the stations and orbitals built by the older species, so the Drazens who live here are usually on contract, rather than a permanent posting. It’s just more comfortable for most biologicals to live on a planet.”

  “So what happens when we arrive?”

  “Normally I’d unload enough trade goods to get started and head for the market, but I thought I’d take you on a quick tour first. And there are a few places on the retail corridor that have pretty good synthesizers if you want a break from ship rations.”

  “Why would I want a break from eating out of squeeze tubes? I especially like the raspberry cheesecake.”

  “Yeah, that one’s pretty bad. I guess that’s why Alexander went into hibernation after bossing us around for a day.”

  “Shouldn’t we wake him?”

  “May as well wait until we’re ready to lay out the blanket,” Kevin replied, using trader slang for setting up to trade. “That reminds me of the time I visited one of these stations where there were twice as many dogs as Drazens, and you know that their native canines are a bit hard of hearing…”

  By the time the story reached its inevitable punchline, the traffic controller had successfully docked Kevin’s converted Sharf scout ship on an airlock stub. The hub was spinning just fast enough to give the new arrivals a sense of up and down, but not much more. The two humans unbuckled their restraints and launched themselves for the hatch. After days in true Zero-G, Dorothy failed to account for her slight increase in weight and had to reach up to grab the handhold. Kevin checked the safety panel for the atmospheric status of the docking lock, nodded, and opened the hatch.

  “Fresh air,” Dorothy said, inhaling deeply. “I didn’t realize how stale it was in the ship.”

  “The Drazens run a higher oxygen content then we’re used to,” Kevin cautioned her. “I usually put in my nose plugs when I’m trading because I don’t want to get too euphoric.”

  “I think it’s perfect.”

  “Activate your magnetic cleats. Anywhere you see parallel lines in low-gravity, like the green and red ones here, it means that’s the deck and they expect visitors to stay on it.”

  “Does this passage lead to a lift tube? Why two different colors?”

  Kevin shrugged. “We have to go through customs first.”

  “What do you mean? They’re going to give us a test to make sure that we understand Drazen customs? I never thought they were so sensitive about that stuff.”

  “Some species forbid certain imports and tax others, and on Drazen stations, you also need permission if you’re going to work or trade while visiting. It’s all handled by the customs agents here, but other species have as many as four levels of officials to get past. The Verlocks don’t have any controls, so you just walk through like a Stryx station.”

  “I was just kidding, of course I know about customs,” Dorothy said in exasperation. “You’re so literal. And the Stryx do forbid some dangerous imports.”

  “And since the vast majority of visitors are smart enough not to try to smuggle them onto a Stryx station, there’s no need for customs agents. Whatever you do, never admit to having any cash or they’ll want a gratuity.”

  “Aliens asking for bribes? I’m shocked.”

  “Shhh. It’s only their dogs that are hard of hearing,” Kevin cautioned her as they queued up in the shortest line. “Ease up on the sarcasm and let me do the talking.”

  “Next,” the customs inspector announced, and Dorothy’s high quality implant perfectly translated the boredom in the Drazen’s voice. He didn’t even look up until the pair reached the turnstile, but then his face split into a wide grin. “Humans! This is my lucky day.”

  “Uh, thank you,” Kevin said. “We’re here…”

  “Do the song,” the customs agent demanded. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

  “The song?”

  “The Human song. You know.” The inspector lifted the whistle hanging around his neck to his lips and blew a short note. “Hey, everybody. I finally got some new Humans.”

  “Do the song,” another inspector called, and the other officials in the large hall abandoned their posts to gather around.

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kevin said. “Even if I did know, I don’t have much of a singing voice.”

  “Of course not, you’re Human. That’s half of the fun. Make it a duet.”

  Dorothy looked to Kevin for a lead, but he was just standing with his mouth open, so she decided to get it over with and started in on the theme to ‘Let’s Make Friends.’

  Don’t be a stranger because I look funny

  You look weird to me…

  “Not that one,” the Drazen interrupted her. “The one about getting sick from hot sauce.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know it,” Dorothy said.

  “Hey, what is this?” Kevin demanded. “We’re traders from a tunnel network species with treaty rights to…”

  “Traders?” the customs inspector cut him off in a disappointed voice. The gathered officials shook their heads and returned to their posts, where the queues were now empty since the other arrivals had all taken advantage of the situation to hop the turnstiles. “Sorry. I assumed you were the latest batch of trainees. Married?”

  “No,” Dorothy replied a little too quickly.

  “I thought you might be siblings with that weird orange hair,” the inspector said. “Where are your goods?”

  “I’m taking her for a look around the station, and I want to see what the other traders are pushing before we set up,” Kevin answered. “And we’re not siblings.”

  “Cousins?” the customs agent guessed.

  “We’re just traveling together,” Dorothy said.

  The Drazen held up a hand like a crossing guard stopping pedestrians. “This is a family station. We don’t put up with that sort of thing from visitors.”

  “What are you talking about? The Drazens back on Union Station…”

  “This isn’t Union Station,” the inspector replied shortly. “Entry denied.”

  “We have a companionship contract,” Kevin told him. “It’s back on the ship because it’s Frunge, so it’s a hassle to carry around.”

  “Why didn’t you say so to start with?” The inspector gave them a disgusted look for wasting his time and causing a false alarm. “Any currency to declare?”

  “None,” the humans answered simultaneously.

  “Next,” the inspector continued in a bored voice, waving them through the turnstile.

  “What was that all about?” Dorothy asked, as they moved down the passage toward one of the spokes.

  “Never had anything like that happen in all of my travels, but then I was always by myself,” Kevin admitted. He steered her past the first lift tube and continued towards the next spoke. “That last one was for the residential ring. We want the commercial district.”

  “You remember from being here before?”

  “They’re labeled in a dozen
languages,” he pointed out. “You don’t read any of them?”

  “I never needed to. Which ones can you read?”

  “I’m not fluent in anything, but I can figure out basic navigation signage and numbers for most of the tunnel network species. Remember, I had lots of time to kill travelling alone. Hurry up. These things don’t run as frequently as on a Stryx station.”

  They made it into the lift tube just before the doors closed, and imitated the other occupants by shuffling up the wall so that their feet were pointing in the direction of travel. As the capsule moved out the spoke towards the donut ring, their weight slowly increased, and by the time the door slid open five minutes later, they had turned off their magnetic cleats and were able to walk onto the commercial deck.

  “All that exercise really paid off,” Dorothy said. “I’ve never felt so strong.”

  “You’re at maybe eighty percent of your weight on Union Station, and don’t forget the higher oxygen content in the air.”

  “Spoilsport. Hey, that smells pretty good.”

  “Drazen cooking always smells good, but their food contains lots of molecules that humans never encountered on Earth, so our bodies don’t realize they’re dangerous. Someday I’ll remember to ask your station librarian why it doesn’t smell bad, though she’ll probably tell me that it’s competitive information. Where’s your EarthCent Intelligence poison detector ring?”

  “It doesn’t go with this outfit, I’ll just watch yours.” She frowned. “Do you hear somebody singing in English?”

  Kevin gave the silent command to turn off his translation implant and listened intently for a moment. “Yeah, but it doesn’t make any sense. I think it’s coming from that way.”

  The two humans headed up the broad corridor, the deck of which was curved so gently that it was only noticeable when looking far ahead. Most of the retail space in this section of the donut was taken by restaurants, which displayed their signage Drazen-style, with polarized holograms that showed different images as the viewing angle changed. Dorothy couldn’t make anything of the Drazen script that was usually squeezed between enticing if fanciful representations of the entrees. Then the singing began again, and this time it came from just the other side of a dense crowd of Drazens who blocked their view of the restaurant’s entrance.