Wanderers On Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 6)

by E. M. Foner

  “You folks from the Intrepid commune?” Joe asked in his friendly manner, raising the hand-truck handles so the keg sat flat on the deck. “We’re the EarthCent delegation. It’s our first time to one of these things.”

  “We were beginning to wonder if anybody would come,” grumped an older man, who was wearing an odd purple vest with ribbons on the chest. “Don’t you realize how much it would hurt our status in the mob if nobody showed up to acknowledge our contributions?”

  “This is our first encounter with Wanderers,” Kelly replied, leaving Lynx to maneuver the trolley into place alongside the table. “We really don’t know anything about this culture or your place in it, but I’m sure you can fill us in.”

  “Just as soon as you fill us up.” The apparent leader of the Intrepid commune cast a hungry look at EarthCent’s offerings. “It’s a good thing there’s just the eight of us since you only brought the one load.”

  “Eight of you and four of us,” Lynx pointed out. “Surely you don’t expect us to serve and watch you eat.”

  “Look around you,” the old man said. “Do you see any of the alien diplomats and their staff eating? The Envoy’s reception takes place after you all serve the traditional meal. Remind me to give you the envelope before I leave.”

  “This really isn’t what I was expecting,” Kelly muttered, but looking around at the other tables, it was obvious that the human elder wasn’t lying. All over the hall, diplomatic delegations from Union Station were directing their support personnel in serving at the tables of their species. The ambassadors seemed to be taking it in good spirit, or perhaps they were just better actors than Kelly had realized. Czeros was entertaining a group of Frunge elders just two tables away, where he was standing on a chair and performing a song-and-pantomime routine that reminded her of “I’m a Little Teapot.”

  “When in Rome, do as Romans do,” Woojin suggested, uncorking a bottle of wine. He took a white cloth napkin from the food trolley, draped it over his arm, and began pouring for the eight human elders.

  “I guess he means us,” Lynx said to Kelly. She began pulling out the appetizers from the cooler section. Kelly quickly went over the contents of the hot section in her head, and felt a sudden burst of gratitude towards Bork for telling her to bring all she could manage. As long as the Intrepid’s elders weren’t huge eaters, their supplies would suffice, and the EarthCent delegation might even be able to make a quick meal out of the leftovers.

  Once Joe tapped the keg, the atmosphere at the human table lightened up remarkably. They discovered that the Intrepid commune lacked a brewing tradition of their own, and the elders meant to catch up on decades of unintentional abstinence from the beverage. The beer did its work, filling bellies and loosening lips, and soon the EarthCent caterers knew more about the elder delegation’s view of themselves and the place of the Wanderers in the galaxy than they cared to.

  “So let me make sure I have this straight,” Kelly said to Monos, the old man in the purple vest having finally admitted to owning a name. “The Wanderers offset the negative energy created by the hard-working members of your respective species by boycotting the rat race and dedicating yourselves to a life of leisure.”

  “We maintain a balance in the universe,” Monos confirmed. “Yin and yang. Work and play. Creation and destruction. Without the Wanderers, you kinetic types would use up all of the energy in the universe that much faster.”

  “I’m not sure that entirely makes sense to me,” Kelly replied cautiously, having done her best to listen to what the elders were saying for nearly an hour. “Don’t you think...” She was interrupted by loud bell, and all around the room, thousands of chairs scraped back from tables.

  “Gotta go now,” Monos told her. “Nice job with dinner, for a first try anyway. Here’s your envelope, don’t open it until they tell you.” Without further ado, the human elders brushed past the EarthCent delegation and joined the throngs exiting the hall. Kelly shook her head in disbelief.

  “Plenty of leftovers,” Lynx observed. “Why don’t we grab a bite while we’re waiting for the next act of this clown show?”

  Around them, Kelly observed the other Union Station delegations hastily putting together plates of leftovers and moving to a small section of tables near the hitherto-unused podium in the corner, so she gathered her companions and followed suit. They had barely seated themselves at a table with Bork and a few of his senior staff, when a tall Sharf stepped onto the small stage and tapped on an archaic-looking microphone.

  “Hello, hello?” His voice echoed through the cavernous room. “Is this thing on?”

  “Yes, Envoy,” somebody called back.

  “It’s been a hard couple of centuries,” the envoy declared, launching into his speech without bothering to introduce himself. Beside Kelly, Bork groaned and looked concerned. “Our recent path through interstellar space has reminded us yet again of the vast emptiness between stars. No species found fit to seek us out and provide parts and labor, and consequently, the faith of our mob in our vital mission was tested. Tested, but not shaken.” The Sharf paused significantly at this point, and Joe nudged his wife.

  “Did you see where the restrooms were, Kel?”

  “I think I saw one of those signs with a humanoid standing, sitting and kneeling, next to the bank of lift tubes,” Kelly responded. Joe stood quietly and began navigating his way through all of the empty tables.

  “Each of the ambassadors present today was given an envelope by your co-speciesists. Do you all have them with you?” The Sharf stopped again, turning his eye stalks for a moment to follow Joe’s retreating back.

  “Here!” the ambassadors replied in chorus, waving the envelopes over their heads.

  “It does my three hearts good to see how our sacrifices are appreciated by those we left behind,” the Sharf declared. “Come now, you all know what’s inside the envelope. I want you to choose the amount you’re authorized to pledge, and then move your fingers one tab to the right and fold over the next higher amount instead. Think about how you’re compensating for all of the hard work your species have done in accumulating the wealth that allows you to make these contributions. Think about what the galaxy would be like if the Wanderers didn’t exist to balance the books.”

  Kelly opened her envelope and stared in shock at the pledge card. The smallest tab showed a hundred thousand creds, and the largest had more zeros than she could count. She looked around at the other tables and saw that all of the ambassadors were hesitating, staring at the pledge cards. Then the Sharf delivered his winning argument in a booming voice.

  “Think about the alternative!”

  Kelly saw Bork flinch and jerk his fingers to the right, quickly bending up a tab that represented an amount which was probably equal to Earth’s export income for a whole year. Then he carefully ripped all the other tabs off at their base. All around them the other ambassadors were doing the same, pained looks on their faces. The EarthCent ambassador couldn’t hesitate any longer.

  “Libby!” she subvoced urgently. “Did you say we’re exempt from a Wanderer mob visiting Earth?”

  “As long as you remain a protectorate,” Libby replied. “Despite the rapid progress your people are making, I’d say you’re safe for at least another ten generations.”

  “Ten generations as in my grandchildren’s grandchildren’s grandchildren’s...”

  “Yes.” Libby cut her off uncharacteristically, perhaps to save her friend from an embarrassing math error.

  “So I don’t have to pledge the embassy’s budget for the next thousand years to these extortionists?”

  “No, you don’t,” Libby replied.

  “Just checking,” Kelly subvoced back, and gleefully ripped all of the tabs off of the pledge card. When the basket reached their table, she threw it in, feeling better than she had the whole evening.

  “Easy come, easy go,” Bork said mournfully, throwing his own pledge card over hers. “Still, they only come around the stations e
very few hundred years because they know the Stryx wouldn’t tolerate more frequent visits. And it explains the time-delayed communication from my predecessor.”

  “What’s that?” Kelly asked.

  “Oh, there were a number of them encoded in my office calendar when I took over this job,” Bork replied. “Most of them are long-dated stuff, like the one that auto-decrypted before the ice harvesting conference a few years ago advising me to vote in favor. The one that opened up when the Wanderer fleet began arriving instructed me to pay whatever it takes, and that the home office would reimburse without arguing.”

  “From what I’ve seen of their taxi service and lift tubes, it’s surprising they need to beg,” Lynx muttered darkly.

  “I just don’t get their philosophy,” Kelly said in frustration. “Why would they want to fritter away their whole lives at a non-stop party?”

  Joe returned looking flushed and annoyed. “Sorry to interrupt, Kelly, but does anybody have a spare cred for the restroom door? It requires exact change.”

  Six

  “And stretch, and two, and three, and four. And reach, and two, and three, and four.” Aisha paused, a comically serious look on her face as she regarded the line of children who were all on their best behavior for the famous host of Let’s Make Friends. “Now, to your marks. Let’s shake it down!” she ordered, and all of the little sentients began vigorously waggling their extremities.

  A Drazen boy’s tentacle had almost put out a Horten girl’s eye in the first season, leading Aisha to introduce the “marks” on the studio floor that showed each species where to stand. Paul had done the math on how much clearance they all needed for their various appendages, and there hadn’t been any accidents for the last two years. The Grenouthians had long since perfected real-time language dubbing for holo-cast viewers without implants, and the children on the show were all equipped with an in-ear plug which received a continuous feed in their native tongue.

  “Commercial!” the Grenouthian director called, on hearing which, the children all collapsed dramatically to the floor.

  “Stop exaggerating,” Aisha pleaded. “It’s just a little exercise, and the show is already halfway over. Besides, I’ll bet you’ve all been doing the stretches along with holo-casts in your homes.”

  “I only fell down because he did!” Samuel piped up, pointing at the large Dollnick child.

  “Me too,” chorused a number of little aliens.

  “But I’m tired,” the Dollnick complained tearfully. “I didn’t know it would be after my bedtime.”

  “Didn’t your parents make sure you napped today?” Aisha asked with concern.

  The Dollnick child shrugged, a confusing gesture from a creature with two sets of arms.

  Coordinating time schedules had always been a challenge given the show’s rotation of child actors, especially since all of the aliens artificially maintained different length days on their decks. Once, Aisha had asked Paul to calculate how often they could produce a show that fell during daytime hours for all of the possible combinations of species on the station. After consulting with Jeeves, Paul told her, “Twice, if you live to a healthy old age.”

  So Aisha had decided to stick with the human clock, and requested that parents prepare their children to live on a different schedule for the length of their rotation on the show. The Dollnick children required daily exposure to a sequence of varying wavelengths from their artificial deck lighting to trigger the sleeping cycle, so they had trouble changing schedules. Paul explained it had to do with simulating the binary star system of their home world.

  “Live in ten, nine, eight,” the Grenouthian director shouted, then shifted to counting down silently, with exaggerated mouth movements that always made Aisha think of a bunny trying to ingest an enormous invisible carrot. The children clambered to their feet and gathered around the curtained pedestal for this week’s surprise. In addition to exercise routines, story time, and of course, the namesake “Let’s Make Friends,” segment, each show included a special event that only came up once per rotation.

  Some of these, like “The Ice Cream Field Trip,” and “My Favorite Place,” were pre-recorded and inserted into the live broadcast, which the vast majority of the audience watched on-demand. But the “Surprise” segment was always done live, and none of the actors, including Aisha, knew what would be revealed behind the curtain. Previous surprises ranged from Samuel’s grandmother, who had conspired with the Grenouthians in return for a free trip, to a stable miniature black hole, fulfilling a young Verlock’s request to the Volcano Creature, the Santa Claus of the mathematically oriented species.

  “It’s Surprise Day, and we’re all waiting to see what’s behind the curtain,” Aisha announced, as soon as the Grenouthian finished his countdown. “Shall I pull the cord and lift the curtain?”

  As always, one of the little aliens got scared and grabbed her hand. Today it was a stunning Vergallian girl, who was appearing on the show for the first time.

  “What if it’s the Void Man?” Ailia asked in trepidation, her eyes wide with childish fear and excitement.

  “Then we’ll feed him milk and cookies, and make him promise not to bother any more good children,” Aisha reassured her. The girl let go, and the host of LMF pulled open the curtains, revealing a shimmering black bag that looked like it contained at least a month’s worth of somebody’s dirty laundry.

  “Does anybody know what this is?” she asked the children.

  “It’s a Jort sack,” the Horten boy declared confidently. “Just yank on the ribbon and it will open itself.”

  Aisha reached out and pulled the black ribbon tied around the neck of the sack, and the shimmering fabric seemed to dissolve. A large number of translucent polyhedrons, made visible through the light they refracted, tumbled off the pedestal and onto the stage. Freed of the high-tech packing material, a delicate statuette constructed from spun golden threads appeared. It depicted a figure in a Hindu dance posture, standing on one leg with the other leg extended before her, bent at the knee. The statuette’s hands were held flat above the extended leg, one with the fingers all pointing up, the other with the fingers pointing down, as if she was trying to create a hand shadow of a bird.

  “Look, children. I think it’s supposed to be me!” Aisha exclaimed. Then a shot rang out, and she jumped out of her slippers.

  “Bang!” Samuel shouted, and in imitation of the Horten boy, jumped on one of the packing polyhedrons with both feet. The result was an even louder explosion than the Horten had managed.

  “Bang! Bang!” the alien children yelled in delight, chasing down the barely visible polyhedrons, which were as flexible as balloons, but burst with a vengeance when distorted beyond their modulus of elasticity. Even the over-tired Dollnick was revived by the game, swatting at the shapes with all four hands when they kicked up from the floor.

  “Children, children,” Aisha called, plainly rattled by the popping of the packing material. “Wouldn’t it be more fun to gather up all of these shapes and make something with them?”

  “No!” cried the Horten boy, stamping on a polyhedron with relish.

  “No!” the other kids chorused, jumping here and there, creating tremendous bangs.

  The little Vergallian girl shyly approached Aisha and handed her one of the light-as-air shapes.

  “I’d rather make something nice, but the boys are going to pop them all,” Ailia said.

  “Would you like to pop this one?” the human host asked with sudden insight. The little Vergallian shook her head, first side-to-side, and then up-and-down. “Go ahead, then,” Aisha said with a sigh, patting the girl’s golden curls. Ailia gravely placed the shape at her feet, and then stamped on it rather tentatively, with one foot. It made a loud “pop” and she screamed happily, grabbing Aisha’s hand in fright at her own daring.

  It took almost five minutes for the children to finish chasing down and popping all of the polyhedrons, which was all of the time allotted for the special sur
prise segment of the show. The director called, “Commercial!” and the children all dove to the floor again. This time they really might have been exhausted.

  “Well, I guess nobody who wants their art featured on the show will send it in that packing material again,” Aisha commented to the director.

  “I gave the statue a couple of long close-ups, just to break up the action,” the Grenouthian replied. Although he was relatively young to be director of such an important source of revenue on the education network, the bunny was a maestro of live holo-casts, and he had been with Aisha since the beginning. “I hear your mother-in-law is going to submit a proposal.”

  “Yes, she co-authored the initial treatment for this show with me, you know,” Aisha replied. She was now an old hand at entertainment terminology. “I want to help her, but I don’t seem to be tuned in to the same wave-length as the grown-up demographic.”

  “No. You’re kidding!” the Grenouthian said facetiously. Then he snapped to attention and began another count-in. “Live in ten, nine, eight...” The children struggled back to their feet and tried to look cute.

  “I hope we used up all of our extra physical energy, because now it’s time to exercise our imaginations,” Aisha said. She gestured with both hands for the children to gather around. “Some of you are in your first rotation on our show, so you may not know how to play Storytellers.”

  “We know, we know,” the children all yelled, which wasn’t surprising since it was one of the most controversial and talked about segments of Let’s Make Friends. Some of the straight-laced species thought it bordered on teaching children how to lie, but Aisha was adamant that imaginative storytelling was an important part of childhood development. The deciding factor was the Grenouthian analytics, which showed that the sponsors paid the most for the commercial spots before and after the storytelling.

  “Today, we’re going to tell a story about the Wanderers coming to visit Union Station,” Aisha continued, skipping the long version of the instructions. “You may be too young to know anything about real Wanderers, so when your turn comes, just make something up!”