LARP Night on Union Station

by E. M. Foner

  LARP Night on Union Station

  Book Fourteen of EarthCent Ambassador

  Copyright 2018 by E. M. Foner

  One

  “In conclusion, it is the view of Union Station Embassy that the proposed system of sabbaticals for diplomatic personnel could be greatly improved by the addition of roving replacement teams, allowing for the ambassador and the embassy manager to take their leave simultaneously, thereby ensuring a transition unmarred by personal idiosyncrasies.”

  Kelly nodded her head in agreement with her own words as the station librarian completed the playback of her weekly report to EarthCent.

  “Are you ready for me to send this yet, or shall we go for an eighth draft?” Libby inquired patiently.

  “All set. Do you think I was being too obvious about wanting to take my vacation at the same time as Donna?”

  “It’s not a vacation, it’s a sabbatical. The idea is to promote professional development through travel and research.”

  “Right. Like anybody really does that.”

  “They will if they want to get paid for the time off. You’ll have to submit a request for sabbatical that details your intended goals, plus a report on your progress when you return to work. Donna is already investigating the possibility of shadowing some of the embassy managers of other species on the station in order to report on how their embassies function.”

  “I didn’t see those requirements,” the ambassador spluttered. “I thought a sabbatical just meant we would get a long vacation every seven years. The last time I traveled anywhere I got kidnapped by Vergallian revolutionaries, and Joe is happy at home brewing his beer and helping Paul with the ships. I think that going somewhere else for a vacation would be like work for both of us.”

  “You could remain on Union Station and focus on research.”

  “I can get credit for reading?”

  “Not Victorian novels,” Libby warned the ambassador, whose face fell. “The program is modeled on sabbaticals at Earth’s academic institutions from the early twentieth century, before all of the abuses began. If you published something related to diplomacy—”

  “But I just did,” Kelly interrupted. “If Jeeves hadn’t written his stupid EarthCent for Humans, my book would be the bestseller in the Galactic Free Press ‘EarthCent Diplomacy’ category.”

  “You can’t take credit on sabbatical for work you did prior to going on leave. It has to be new research or the continuation of an ongoing project.”

  “I’ve been the Minister of Intelligence forever. Can I get credit for that?”

  “You’ll think of something. Daniel is about to stop by.”

  Kelly got up from her desk to greet her associate ambassador and waved open the doors.

  “Any news from Flower?” she asked.

  “I just got off a holoconference with Woojin. He says ‘Hi’ from Lynx and Em.”

  “I never realized how many alien functions and ceremonies Lynx was attending in my place until after she left. Hey, you wouldn’t be interested in a Dollnick royal ascension…”

  “No,” Daniel cut her off. “But play your sabbatical card right and Lynx might be back at the same time you return. She and Woojin only committed to one year with Flower, though I’m guessing they’ll extend it until Em is ready for Libby’s school.”

  “Sounds like they’re doing well, then.”

  “Flower just left Earth for her first destination, but they had several months in orbit to get their act together while bringing people and equipment up on the elevator. All of my sovereign human communities are really looking forward to the first visit, especially since we were able to procure pretty much everything they requested. Eccentric Enterprises is going to have a job balancing their books when it’s all said and done.”

  “So you won’t be requesting leave yourself anytime soon?”

  “No, knock yourself out. I heard they’re going to use a lottery system to start handing out sabbaticals so that all of the experienced ambassadors don’t go out at the same time. Apparently Hildy Gruen got a hold of an old lottery machine that spits out numbered ping pong balls.”

  “I just sent in my feedback on the proposal, though I guess I should have read it a little more carefully,” Kelly admitted. “I suggested they provide replacement teams that include both an embassy manager and an ambassador.”

  “So you can go out at the same time as Donna.”

  “Not just that. All right, maybe, but it makes sense when you think about it. Besides, I need her to help with Dorothy’s wedding planning.”

  “From what my wife tells me, the dress is in its final stages. Jeeves has been grumbling about all of the time your daughter has put into it, but Shaina says that bridal stuff could turn into a big seller for SBJ Fashions.”

  “Did your wife really use the term ‘bridal stuff?’”

  “Probably not.”

  A large Cayl hound trotted into Kelly’s office and sat down on her haunches in front of Daniel. There the dog tilted her head and favored the associate ambassador with a quizzical look.

  “Hello, Queenie,” the ambassador greeted her. “Are Shaina and the kids with you?”

  The dog shook her head in the negative, keeping her eyes on Daniel the whole time.

  “Do you have any treats?” he asked Kelly out of the side of his mouth.

  “All out. Looks like it’s time for you to go home.”

  The ambassador couldn’t help smiling as Daniel was escorted out of her office by Queenie, the former trying to negotiate a deal with the latter that would allow him to stop in his own office to pick up some work to bring home. The Cayl hound was having none of it.

  “I guess that’s it for me too, Libby,” Kelly said, retrieving her purse from the desk’s otherwise unused deep file drawer. “I’m going to head down to the Little Apple to talk to Ian about catering the wedding before he gets caught up in the dinner rush.”

  “Chastity just pinged to ask if you were still here,” the Stryx librarian responded. “She’s sending a reporter to get your comments about the start of Flower’s mission. The paper has a beautiful picture of the ship with Earth in the background and they need some text to go with it.”

  “I guess I can wait up if the reporter doesn’t mind walking with me.” Kelly paused and glanced at the ceiling. “You never told me what you think about the way we’re handling your gift of a Dollnick colony ship.”

  “Gryph and the other first-generation Stryx are financing the mission, so I’m just the paymaster, and Flower accepted service under a temporary leasing agreement. She isn’t a gift.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “I think that some of the ideas that came out of the Open University competition are quite positive, and EarthCent has done an excellent job obtaining cooperation from several other tunnel network members.”

  “You could have knocked me over with a feather when Ambassador Aainda offered to donate some surplus military hardware for the new police force. It seems like just yesterday they were trying to undermine us at every turn.”

  “It’s a pity the Vergallian ambassadors serve such short tours of duty,” Libby concurred. “Most of the species treat an ambassadorial appointment as a career in itself. Both Srythlan and the Grenouthian ambassador have been assigned to Union Station for over three centuries.”

  “I’ve noticed that with the exception of Ambassador Beyer, who you promoted to president after his predecessor ran off, the rest of us EarthCent ambassadors seem to be aging in our posts as well.”

  “Yes. The advanced species all place a high value on personal relationships, and we already get enough complaints in private about your limited lifespans. I don’t imagine that your sabbatical repl
acement will get much done, but as long as you remain on the station, the other ambassadors will know where to find you.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a vacation, I mean, sabbatical,” Kelly grumbled.

  The doors to the embassy slid open and a tall young man entered.

  “Bob Steelforth. Galactic Free Press.”

  “You don’t have to introduce yourself every time we meet, Bob,” the ambassador told the reporter for perhaps the hundredth time. “You sat next to me at the graduation picnic last weekend.”

  “I’m a by-the-book guy,” Bob said. “The first thing out of every reporter’s mouth should be his name and his news service. It wouldn’t be fair to you otherwise.”

  “Whatever you feel is best, Bob. I’m on my way to the Little Apple to check about catering arrangements for Dorothy’s wedding, but you’re welcome to come along and ask questions.”

  “Great. I’ve always wondered how much it would cost.”

  “Wedding catering?”

  “Yeah, for if I can ever convince Judith to tie the knot. She says it’s too old-fashioned, but I can’t help believing that it means something more than a checkbox for estate planning.”

  “What?”

  “Estate planning, for when we die,” the serious young reporter said as he followed Kelly into the corridor. “You know that in the absence of a will, any assets on a Stryx station go to the spouse. I have some family scattered around here and there, but if anything happens to me, I want Judith to get my stuff. It’s really our stuff anyway, except for the life insurance pool money that comes with my job at the paper, and I already made her the beneficiary if I win.”

  “Why not take the money yourself and then give it to her?”

  “You win by dying,” Bob explained. “The younger you are, the bigger the share of the pool goes to your beneficiary, but if you’re still alive when you reach retirement age, you’re out of luck.”

  “Little Apple,” Kelly told the lift tube. “That’s really sweet of you, Bob. Joe and I should probably put some more thought into estate planning, but other than asking Libby to take care of the kids if something happens to us, we haven’t done anything formal.”

  “You asked the Stryx librarian to adopt your children?”

  “They’re too old for adoption. When they were small we had an agreement with Paul and Aisha to take them, but our children went to Libby’s school and she probably knows more about them than we do. Did I say probably? Definitely.”

  Bob followed Kelly out into the Little Apple, staying close by her elbow in the Friday afternoon crowds.

  “Can you give me a quote about Flower’s maiden voyage?” he asked her. “I sort of went off topic in the lift tube.”

  “I think that Flower’s mission represents a wonderful new chapter for EarthCent, I mean, Eccentric Enterprises, and I have complete confidence in Captain Pyun and his crew.”

  “How about Flower herself?” the reporter followed up. “Do you think she’ll obey orders?”

  Kelly grimaced. “One doesn’t talk about a twenty-thousand-year-old sentient ship obeying anybody. My reports say that she’s proven herself to be a very reasonable AI and that our people value her input as a trusted advisor.”

  “But will she go where they tell her?”

  “I’m sure that Flower will travel to the mutually agreed upon destinations without incident. Am I right in thinking that somebody has told you to expect otherwise?”

  “The Thark off-world betting parlor has been giving odds. The Dollnicks placed bets on a whole list of negative outcomes, so punters can take the opposite side really cheap. I’ve never been much of a gambler, but Judith is always saying that I’m too stodgy, so I thought if I could win big, she might finally take me seriously as husband material.”

  “How long have the two of you been living together?”

  “Too long,” Bob said. “I mean, too long without taking it to the next level. I just don’t get women.”

  “Judith may be a bit of a special case,” Kelly told him as they entered Pub Haggis. Then she put her hand on the reporter’s arm and added, “I meant that in a good way. She’s a bit headstrong is all, and while I’m not a gambling person myself, I think you’re safe betting on Flower.”

  “Ambassador,” the heavyset restaurateur greeted Kelly. “Don’t tell me you’ve replaced Joe with this youngster.”

  “Bob Steelforth. Galactic Free Press,” the young man repeated.

  “I know, Bob. We’ve met dozens of times,” Ian said. “Are you here to report on the catering business?”

  “That would be our food and lifestyle correspondent. I’m just curious about how it works so I’ll be prepared when it’s my turn.”

  “Smart man. Did you put together the numbers I asked for, Kelly?”

  “About that,” the ambassador said, looking embarrassed. “I know that the invitation list was around three hundred at last count, but we won’t have an exact number until people RSVP.”

  “Most people who are coming respond right away,” Ian told her confidently. “How many have you heard back from so far?”

  “Well, none. I haven’t exactly sent the invitations yet.”

  “How many weeks away is the wedding?”

  “That’s part of it too. The dress is almost ready, but Kevin’s family is coming from the other side of the galaxy. He’s still working out a good time with them since his sister will be performing the ceremony. And you know that some of the guests are out with Flower, so I ordered the invitations with the date blank. Dring is a terrific calligrapher and he offered to finish them all when we know.”

  “All right, the exact date isn’t important when it’s this far out, but I do need a rough idea of the number of guests and what they’ll be eating if you want an estimate.”

  “So, five hundred?”

  “Didn’t you just say three hundred?” Bob pointed out.

  “That was invitations, not guests. Most of Dorothy’s friends are single, but I invited a lot of couples, and we’re expecting around two hundred aliens. Don’t forget that I’ve been attending weddings as the ambassador for over twenty years so I have a lot of make-up invitations.”

  “Two hundred aliens would make it sixty/forty,” Ian said, taking a pencil from behind his ear and making a note on a paper pad. “I subcontract the alien food to Gem caterers, there’s no point in trying to compete with them. We’re talking two or three months from now?”

  “Something like that,” Kelly replied vaguely. “Until we know the exact dates Kevin’s sister is available we can’t rent the hall. I know I’m not being very helpful, but I just wanted to get an idea of the cost.”

  “The food bill is the easiest part,” Ian reassured her. “Figure ten creds a head for the humans and fifteen for the aliens. If you were doing it in Mac’s Bones, that would be it, but as soon as you rent a hall, they try to push you into package deals where you have to buy the flowers and the booze from them as well. I just had a cancellation from the parents of a young woman who booked a ballroom at the Camelot. They just found out that they’re stuck with the hotel catering, and there’s even a house band if they want live music. No outsiders allowed.”

  “I’ll scratch the Camelot from our list,” Kelly said, and Bob nodded in agreement. “I’m kind of hoping the date works out so we can use the Empire Convention Center, because Donna has a lot of experience negotiating with them, and the embassy has booked some pretty big events there.”

  “Empire is the best,” Ian said. “You rent bare walls and a deck for a fixed length of time and everything else is a-la-carte. You’ll want them to handle your bar if you book there, at least for the alien guests. What did you have printed on the invitations if you don’t have a time or a place?”

  “It just says that we invite them to celebrate the wedding of our daughter. The location is definitely Union Station, so the inside of the card instructs everybody to ask a lift tube to take them to Dorothy’s wedding.”

  “I l
ike it. You could actually put off renting a hall to the last minute to get the best price. If all else fails, it would be easy enough to set up in Mac’s Bones.”

  “No,” Kelly said forcefully. “That’s the one thing Dorothy and I agree on. I’d rather she get married on a park deck than in between a used-spaceship repair shop and an intelligence agency boot camp.”

  “Do you think we could have our wedding at the training camp?” Bob asked. “I mean, if Judith ever says yes. I just can’t see her agreeing to spend real money on a hall, and she’s never mentioned anything about parents.”

  “That seems a bit strange, but we’d be happy to host your wedding. If I know Joe, he’ll be willing to run the bar-b-que and insist on throwing in a free keg of beer.”

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Ian said. “Tell Joe I’m on my last barrel and it’s getting low, so I’d appreciate a delivery.”

  “Will do. And you’ll be getting your invitation in the mail just as soon as they’re ready.”

  “We have mail? I’ve never gotten any.”

  “Me either,” Bob said.

  “I’m still working on that part. The woman at the invitation shop has a delivery service, but it’s pretty expensive, and we’d have to bring them back after Dring does his thing. I was thinking of leaving them all at the InstaSitter office and seeing if they could give them to sitters with nearby assignments to drop off.”

  “I don’t think the sitters go to the office, except for job interviews or problems,” the reporter pointed out.

  “Maybe the maintenance bots,” Ian suggested.

  “When I brought it up with Libby, she asked if that’s what I wanted for Dorothy’s wedding present, so I had to back off.”

  “You could probably just hire an InstaSitter for the evening to go around delivering them,” Bob said. “You know they don’t mind people occasionally using the kids as casual help.”

  “Three hundred invitations? It would take…” Kelly bogged down trying to do the math.

  “I figure we can deliver take-out anywhere on the station at ten minutes for the round trip,” Ian volunteered. “You could cut that in half since the runner won’t have to return after every delivery, and if you plan the route smart, I wouldn’t be surprised if a bright teenager could manage thirty deliveries an hour. With navigation help from the station librarian, I’ll bet even a younger kid could get through the stack pretty quick.”