by E J Randolph
I bent over the menu. “I’ll go with the daily special, a salad, vegetable soup, flounder lightly basted with butter and cooked in a lemon and parsley sauce with strawberry shortcake for dessert.” Eek, maybe that was too many calories.
“Me, too.”
A robowaiter came over, took our orders, and returned with the salad. Halfway through my salad, my fork dipping for another bite, the robot grabbed my plate and replaced it with a steaming bowl of soup.
I reached for the disappearing plate. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“I warned you.”
I waved my hands.
“I wouldn’t waste time if you want your soup.”
“But I wasn’t done. Can’t the robots be reprogrammed?”
“Yes. Last time I tried, and they were so slow, dinner took three hours.”
The soup smelled delicious. I scooped it into my mouth as fast as I could. “This is no way to treat good food.” Dan would have savored the smells of this dish for ten minutes before touching it.
The entree arrived about the same time as a noisy, drunken foursome at the too close neighboring table.
I tasted the fish. It was good. Though an insult to delicious food, I took big bites, eating it with the rapidity of a person who has stumbled out of a desert with no food for a week.
A waiter cruised near our table.
“I’m not done.” I grabbed my plate and held it against my chest.
Pierre raised his fork. “They give more time for the entree.”
The two men at the table next to us leaped to their feet, bumping our table. One grabbed the jacket of the other, and his face reddened. “I’ll pull your worthless, lying tongue out of your mouth and give you a new neck tie.”
“Oh, yeah? Not before I take your tongue and–” The man laughed. “You’re going to do what?”
The first man stood silent, uncertain.
The second man doubled over laughing. “Hey, you’re creative. I was just going to kick your butt.”
The two women at the table looked at each other and nodded. They grabbed their men and hurried them out.
I looked at Pierre. “Silence is golden.”
“I was worried I’d have to try to break it up before they could hurt you.”
My eyebrows rose. He felt protective of me. He wouldn’t run if trouble came our way.
“Men like that may be big, but they aren’t trained in unarmed combat. It makes a difference. They’ll get in each other's way while I take them out.”
I reappraised this tall, lanky sailor. He wasn’t muscle bound, but he spoke with the assurance of the experienced.
He took my hand and touched it with his fingers. “How did your day go?”
“At first I was disappointed I had to work, but it’s only for three days, and these people I am guiding have touched me. They are from God's Grace, a backward, agricultural planet. They were discovered ten years ago, and Central is guiding their development.”
“Sounds like a good thing.”
I sighed. “That’s what I thought. But it’s more like Central is behaving like a dictator and slowing their development. Some bureaucrat who has never been to God's Grace has complete control over what technology they can buy and use.”
“But it’s Central's money.”
“Yeah, but I want to change that.”
“How?”
I leaned toward him. “Here’s my plan. I want to help them set up a joint venture with Gorak, the big mining planet. The God's Gracers told me there is a survey showing hydrocarbons, rare earths, and other good stuff below the ground.”
He leaned toward me. “I don't get it. Why don't they mine it?”
“Central won't allow them.”
“That makes no sense.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
“Can you do something?”
“I’m trying to do something. Will you help me?”
“If I can. My specialties in college were geography and geology.”
“Great! But, first, we need to find that survey. Then you can interpret it.”
“Done by Central?”
“Yes.”
He straightened and spread his arms wide. “Easy, it’ll be in the local library that’s open twenty-four hours a day. It’s a repository, so copies of all surveys and contracts are kept there along with tons of trade records. Gigantic storage. I’ll show you as soon as we finish our meal.”
A few minutes later, Pierre held out his hand for me and led the way out of the restaurant. “You won’t believe this place. It’s packed day and night. All kinds of trade records are kept there. You want the inside scoop on a deal or want to make a killing, you do your homework at this library. Did you know there are people who come here simply for the information in the library? Information and knowledge. That’s the gold and silver of today.” At the street he waved down a passing robotaxi.
“You people need a ride?” The vehicle spoke in a flirty female voice.
We hopped in, and Pierre waved his hand. “To the library.”
We drove through heavy traffic to the largest building complex I’d seen in Bella or anywhere else in the Federation.
Pierre leaped out. “Come on.” He grabbed my hand and we ran up the well-lit steps to a set of wide doors.
Though it was night, people crowded in and out with smiles, laughter, shouts, nudges, huddles, and whispers. Banks of computer screens lined the walls and crowded the tables in the middle of the floor. Someone sat in front of each screen, and people waited in line.
“This is where the interplanetary business of the Federation is conducted.” Pierre’s excited voice carried over the surrounding din. “You know what makes it work? The free wheeling nature of the place. No oversight or regulation.” He laughed. “The regulatory body is on Central. By the time they find out anything, the deal is long done.” He spotted an empty terminal in a far corner and pulled me along behind him in a race with a large, prosperous merchant and his entourage.
I slipped into the seat. “Now, where is that survey?” I searched for an hour in the publicly available databases. It was nowhere, and without that survey, my big plan was never going anywhere. I slumped.
Pierre tapped my shoulder. “Scoot over. Let me try.” He entered some other searches. “Ah, there is a section here that’s code protected.”
“Is it classified?”
“Can’t access it without a code.”
I commo’d Nick. “This is Kate. I’m here at the Bellasport Library. I need the survey data on God’s Grace and it’s in a code-protected section.”
“That should be easy for Miss A to crack.” A minute or two later, he laughed. “She said that was too easy. Give her something harder next time.”
I grinned. “Tell her she’s a show off, but I love her.”
I punched in the code and the files opened. I scrolled down through lines of information. “Here it is. We’re in business. I won’t have to show up tomorrow morning empty handed.”
Pierre leaned over and scanned the screen. “They did a full planetary multi spectral.”
My heart beat a little faster as his clean, musty, ever so male smell wrapped around me.
I shifted my chair to one side so he could get a better view of the screen. He was getting far more out of the different formats than I was, so, instead of trying to figure them out, I watched him examine them.
He stared for a long while at one portion of one view. He went back and forth between data sets and nodded. He did this again for another page and yet another.
“What are you finding out?”
“Amazing. This place is rich in ores, hydrocarbons, and rare earths. And they aren’t too deep. Easily exploitable.”
“That’s great. Is there any way to make a copy? I’d like to bring this with me tomorrow morning.”
“Of course. All these business types copy documents all the time.”
I peered at the sides and the buttons at the bottom of the screen. Not one
was marked download. “I give up.” I heaved myself to my feet. In plain view on top of the screen a solitary red button sat marked download. I thwacked it and held my wrist computer up.
Pierre rubbed his chin. “I expected something more sophisticated.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Did not consider their normal clientele.”
“Hmm. True enough.” I glanced around the room at the heterogeneity of clothing. People from a wide range of technological levels were present in this library. At a desk off in one corner special assistants helped clients dressed in animal skins. Did they even know what a computer was? And how did they get here?
I looked through the rest of the coded file and pursed my lips. “I wonder what else the planetary development office doesn’t want known.”
I opened a few documents. The personnel from the office didn’t want anything known no matter how unimportant. They had designated even their visits to the planet as top secret. “Is there something I’m not getting here?”
Pierre laughed. “I knew this guy from military intelligence. I swear he classified his farts.”
I giggled. “So, you think it’s the typical government attitude?”
“Maybe.” He frowned. “You expect that attitude with military intelligence, but planetary development?”
I looked around. “Maybe they’re afraid of the voracious appetite of the businessman who seeks profit, the very thing I’m going to bring into God's Grace.”
Pierre harrumphed. “Filthy lucre will destroy the society. Pervert their cultural values, and, and–”
“Just be all around icky poo.”
We collapsed laughing.
The big man behind us stomped his feet. “Are you folks using this screen? Because if you’re not, I sure could. And I could give my sore feet a break.”
I looked at Pierre. “I’ve got what I need.”
“Let’s celebrate.”
We pushed our way through the crowd to the exit and stepped into the cool night air. By some unspoken, mutual agreement, we stood and took several deep breaths.
“A cup of tea would hit the spot.” Pierre’s voice was soft and musing.
“Got any place in mind?”
“A little joint right around the corner. Stays open all night to service the library crowd.”
“Lead on.”
Around the corner several places ranging from the casual to the formal beckoned with bright signs. He stopped at one that specialized in several different types of coffees, teas, and desserts.
I smiled. “My kind of place.”
“Munchies for the library crowd.”
I ordered a dark tea and a piece of cheesecake. “I’m trying to think how this is nutritious.”
“It’s not, but why worry?”
“I don't want to gain weight. I won't fit into my coveralls.”
“Didn’t you see the sign? All the goodies use a carbohydrate humans can’t digest. It will run right through you.”
“Not too fast, I hope.”
He chuckled.
I glanced at my wrist computer. “It’s late. I’d rather spend the night in town than go to the spaceport. Do you have any recommendations?”
“I know a nice, cozy place downtown near the Mining Planets Building used by the business crowd.”
“That would be convenient.”
We finished eating and drinking our tea. He called up a robotaxi, and we took it across town. We walked up a flight of stairs leading to one of the myriad clear walkovers between buildings that, like so many, had a tiny, built-in hotel underneath.
Pierre patted my hand. “Wait here. I know this manager and may be able to talk him into a room.” He spoke with the manager and returned to me. “They have space.” He turned to the door.
“You’ve been so very helpful tonight, is there any possible way a geologically ignorant space girl could ask you–”
He kissed me, silencing the rest of my question. “If you want my help tomorrow, you’ve got it.”
My knees shook. “Thank you.”
“Meet you here at half past seven tomorrow morning.”
He left, and I stared after his departing figure. Could my love life be changing? I was falling for a handsome navy guy who was also helping me with one of my projects. What could be better?
I walked to the desk. “It’s lucky for me you had this vacancy.”
His head jerked up. “It wasn’t luck. The gentleman you were with has rented this room.”
I stood still for a moment. “I will pay for this night.”
The manager shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
In my room I commo'd John. “I’m spending the night at one of those little hotels under a walkover. Got an early morning meeting.”
“Glad you checked in with me.”
“I hope it’s not too late. I didn’t want to interrupt your sleep.”
He chuckled. “It comes with the territory, and I would have worried if you hadn’t commo'd.”
~ ~ ~
The next morning, I awoke at quarter after seven. Yikes! I had fifteen minutes to get ready. I pulled myself out of bed and got to the front desk on time but groggy. Pierre walked in the door and I plastered on my best excuse for a smile.
“I can see mornings are not your best time of the day. Come on, I’ll buy you a cup of tea.”
We found a little tea joint at the corner of the next block, its lit-up windows in stark contrast to the dark ones on the shut-down, slumbering buildings around it.
I wrapped my hands around the hot cup and sniffed the aroma. I took a few searing sips and the dregs of sleep slipped away. I glanced at the time. “We have only fifteen minutes.”
“We’re two, short blocks away.”
I drank my tea as fast as the temperature allowed, and we headed to our destination at a rapid pace.
The sun rose and street illumination faded. Foot traffic increased, and lights came on in the offices lining the streets like stage lighting as the play starts. People popped out of robotaxis and bustled out of subway exits.
CHAPTER FOUR
*<>*
W E RODE the elevator to the second floor of the Mining Planets Consular Building and arrived with three minutes to spare. My party from God's Grace waited in front of the door to the Gorak consular office. They tapped their feet, stuffed hands into their pockets, stretched their necks, and checked their watches.
Hoque hurried toward me. “We’ve been waiting fifteen minutes.”
“We have a couple minutes before the door opens. I have the Federation survey, so we can get some real work done. Be prepared to make a deal fast. These guys won’t wait around.”
Hoque swallowed hard and exchanged a glance with Mellock. “We’ve talked about it. We’re ready to do a deal. We’ve been held back far too long.”
Lukar and Bluvar nodded with enough vigor their white beards swept back and forth across their chests as if they were matching pendulums in old fashioned, grandfather clocks.
“You need to know that Gorakians do not shake hands. They bow. They are so strong they can break every bone in your hand. Gorak is a high-gravity planet.
Locks creaked, and the consular office door slid open. A typical Gorakian stood for several seconds staring at us. His eyebrows shot up. He was short, wide, and heavily muscled with gray skin. His trousers and shirt were in the fashion of a Gorakian working man, but of a far more expensive material – the dark blue pants loose fitting, almost baggy yet tight at the ankles and the light blue shirt also loose, but tight at the wrists. The top of his shirt was open revealing a red undershirt. On his feet, he wore a pair of heavy, square-toed boots complemented at his waist by a dark brown, wide leather belt with a massive buckle featuring a crossed pickax and sledge hammer in bas relief. His whole outfit was artfully made to appear faded through wear and conveyed the message here is a down-to-earth, practical man who doesn’t go in for elaborate rituals of interaction.
I stepped forward. “Kate Stevens,
Federation embassy protocol officer for a delegation from God's Grace. We’re here to discuss a possible mining joint venture.”
The Gorakian cast an appraising glance at the God’s Gracers, and his eyes dulled with disinterest.
Uh oh! You’re not going to dismiss them. I stared at him, pressed my lips into a firm line, and set my hands on my hips.
He looked at me, raised his eyebrows, and glanced again at the obviously primitive farmers. He tilted his head, closed one eye, and rubbed his chin. A small one-sided smiled grew on his face.
I straightened. Here was a wolf looking at my sheep. I’d have to watch this man.
Pierre bowed. “Pierre Leden, Federation Navy. Geology specialist.”
Good. We needed that cache of expert status. These negotiations would be hard hitting.
The two men gave each other hard glances.
The Gorakian swept his arm wide. “Come in.” He led the way to a circle of comfortable chairs ringing a low table and stood behind one of the chairs, his hands resting on the top. “No formalities. I’m a man of the people. My name is Jentor Harum.”
“Hoque.”
“Mellock.”
“Lukar.”
“Bluvar.”
Why didn’t my party use last names? I’d have to ask.
Jentor squinted at the God's Gracers. “Do you carry the authority to make a deal.”
The simple farmers turned their innocent faces to him. How ironic. This man of the people wanted to know if the people sitting in front of him carried the requisite rank.
Hoque leaned forward. “I am the official trade representative appointed by the ruling council.”
Lukar twined his hand in his beard. “Bluvar and I are two members of the ruling council.”
Jentor nodded. He appraised the God’s Gracers for a few more moments and sat. He turned to me. “What is your proposal?”
“I was thinking along the lines of a joint venture.” I held up my wrist computer. “If I may download the Federation report on the underground resources, you’ll understand I’m offering Gorak a terrific opportunity.”
