High Priest on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 3)

by E. M. Foner

  “Everybody calls our station librarian Libby,” Blythe replied, ignoring Jeeves remark. “I guess a lot of people don’t realize that the Stryx use businesses and partnerships to promote galactic stability and regulate the value of the Stryx cred. My sister and I started InstaSitter with the help of Libby, and then we partnered with the older Stryx to franchise across the station network. I’m always traveling between stations to meet with the local managers.”

  “Must be rough if you can’t get used to Zero-G,” Clive said sympathetically. “Do you spend all the flights in stasis?”

  “No, I hate stasis,” Blythe declared with sudden energy. “It’s like agreeing to die and being brought back to life. I just have a couple bad hours after departure, but I usually get my space legs long before the trip is over.”

  “I’ve spent so much time in Zero-G that I don’t even notice it,” Clive admitted. “Of course, I practically live on the exercise equipment, reading from the display or working with the tutor bot.”

  “Aren’t you a bit old for a tutor bot?” Blythe asked with characteristic bluntness.

  “I had a kind of funny childhood,” Clive replied, not wanting to sound like he was fishing for sympathy. “I didn’t get started working with the tutor bot until I bought this ship, and that was less than two years ago.” He registered the surprise mingled with pity on Blythe’s face and hastened to add, “I’m not completely ignorant. I spent a lot of time reading when I was a kid, and I know as much about dead alien civilizations as some historians, a lot of it from hands-on expeditions. But I’m kind of behind on math and science.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” Blythe found herself apologizing. “There’s something that makes you look like you’ve already done more in life than most people.”

  The main view screen flickered and the artificially generated view of the two ships rotating around their common center of gravity on the long towline was replaced by the Nova’s bridge. Paul was on one knee next to Aisha and was holding the girl’s hand.

  “I think I hit the wrong symbol,” Aisha said dubiously. “Couldn’t you afford voice control for this ship?”

  “Of course we have voice control,” Paul reassured her. “But if you’re going to be my back-up pilot, it’s important to be able to operate on manual controls in an emergency. This gesture pad was actually designed for Verlocks and they only have three fingers, so you have to get used to separating your own fingers in pairs.”

  A steaming Blythe, an amused Jeeves and a puzzled Clive all watched as Paul manipulated the girl’s fingers, pushing the pinkie and ring finger together, squeezing the middle finger with index finger, and then pulling her thumb gently out to the side.

  “You see? Just practice a little and you’ll be able to run the nav pad as if you were born with three fingers,” he declared, still holding her palm with his other hand and beaming at her like a lovesick schoolboy.

  Blythe reached over and tapped Jeeves to get his attention then slashed her finger across her throat. The Stryx deactivated the main viewer.

  “So what is it you do, Clive?” Blythe asked grimly to cover her embarrassment. If the man realized there was something wrong in the dynamic between the two crews, he didn’t show it.

  “You could call me a treasure hunter or an amateur alien archeologist, and I’m passionate about it to the point that some people think I’m a little nuts,” he said with a disarming smile. “I’ve been exploring alien ruins since I was a little kid, and ever since I got the money together to buy my own ship, I’ve been on a mission to recover some Effterii artifacts. Have you heard of them?”

  “There was something in Stryx school,” Blythe replied, searching her memory for details. “They were an early race of artificial intelligence that outlived their creators and spread through space looking for other life. But they had some fatal flaw, right?”

  “They weren’t so much flawed as different,” Clive defended the objects of his obsession. “Are dogs flawed because they aren’t wolves? In any case, the biologicals that created them had disappeared for good, and the remaining Effterii either went into service for other aliens or entered a sort of hibernation. Then the biologicals turned against them and wiped them out in the days before Pax Stryxa.”

  “That’s so sad,” Blythe empathized as Clive’s presentation began to focus her attention. “Did any of them survive?”

  “There were always rumors that the ones who went into hibernation were still out there, but finding a medium-sized ship that’s gone dark in interstellar space is like searching for a particular atom on a planet,” Clive replied, though he wasn’t really sure about the mathematical accuracy of the comparison. Between a sudden urge to impress the girl and a surprising inability to contain his own enthusiasm, he added the proud declaration, “I found one.”

  “An ancient AI that predates the Stryx? Is it still alive? Are you listening to this Jeeves?” Blythe fired the questions in rapid order.

  “It was alive enough to prevent me from getting in without a key,” Clive responded, unconsciously massaging the hand that he had momentarily feared was frozen solid by the Effterii defensive shield, right through the gauntlet, when he touched its hull.

  “The Stryx are aware of Clive’s quest and we support his goal,” Jeeves replied. “Of course, we don’t want to interfere directly.”

  “I came here because there’s a chance the Kasilians have a key, and because your librarian, Libby, told me there was a Maker on the station who might be able to help me,” Clive repeated the same basic facts he had given Joe. “If I could get back there with the key and get inside, I’d bring the Effterii right back to Union Station. They were supposed to use a jump technology that’s completely different from what we currently use, allowing them to jump even within strong gravitational fields.”

  “Does that mean you could travel without having to spend any time in Zero-G?” Blythe asked excitedly. “If that’s the case, I’ll back you if you need funds.”

  “You really must hate weightlessness a lot,” Clive replied with a laugh. “I know less about how jump drives work than the average school kid, but I’m sure Jeeves could explain to you why the Stryx do things the way they do.”

  “Biologicals get themselves into trouble when travel becomes too quick and easy,” Jeeves stated flatly. “The minimum trip time we’ll facilitate through the tunnel network is a little over two human days, point to point. Ships traveling greater distances are intentionally slowed in proportion to allow biologicals to adjust. While I wouldn’t say you all act alike, there’s something in biological brains that tracks at least a sub-conscious approximation of absolute position, and ignoring it can lead to violent outbursts, especially for biologicals traveling in large groups.”

  “How come I don’t remember this from school?” Blythe asked skeptically.

  “I seem to recall somebody deciding she knew everything and dropping out early,” Jeeves retorted.

  “Well, I know I hate being weightless,” Blythe asserted, unfazed by the robot’s accusation. “And I must have spent nearly forty days in space last year, just traveling between stations. The only positive thing about it was I got to catch up on all the sports gambling I couldn’t do at home without shocking my mom.”

  “I’ve never bet on sporting events myself,” Clive remarked with a restrained twitching at the corners of his mouth. “I’m told that it’s too easy to rig matches.”

  Blythe looked at him again, closely for the first time, and he swore he could feel her eyes boring into him.

  “Would you be shocked if I told you that I won a bundle on Zero-G cage fighting when I was only seventeen?” Blythe asked, but didn’t stop to wait for an answer. “Would you accuse me of being a silly female bettor if I told you I let it ride on a fighter named The Masked Mercenary until he stopped competing?”

  “Are we up to Earth normal yet?” Clive asked, turning towards Jeeves. “Feels pretty good to me.”

  “Isn’t it a funny coincid
ence that the Masked Mercenary was just about your size, and had an identical scar on his chin where the mask didn’t reach?” Blythe continued her interrogation-cum-soliloquy. “And I wonder where a poor boy who grew up without a tutor bot would find the money to buy a scout ship and name it the Caged Bird?”

  “Look,” Clive said suddenly, “I’ve tried to put all of that behind me, so I guess I shouldn’t have gotten so cute with the name of the ship. Other than digging in ruins, fighting was all I was ever good at, and as the youngest guy on a mercenary crew, I got plenty of opportunity to practice. I did the cage rounds for one year to save up money for the ship and then I got out. Aside from you and the Stryx, nobody knows that Clive Oxford was the Masked Mercenary and I’d like to keep it that way. I didn’t like the kind of attention I got as a professional fighter.”

  “Your wish is my command,” Blythe replied, holding up her hands in submission. “Why don’t you tell me more about the alien ruins.”

  Six hours of intense conversation later, the ships returned to Union Station. As Clive and Blythe disembarked through the main port, Jeeves whistled after them in Stryx short code, “Just get a room already.” Libby immediately rebuked her offspring for being a bad sport.

  Paul and Aisha were all for preparing a late dinner at home for the four of them, but Blythe insisted she had to get back to work. Clive asked to tag along to see the InstaSitter offices, and the two of them walked from Mac’s Bones to the nearest lift tube.

  “Office,” Blythe spoke, and the lift set off smoothly.

  “I don’t want to sound like a jerk,” Clive began tentatively, then decided to start over. “So are you and Paul a couple?”

  “He’s been my boyfriend for nearly three years,” Blythe answered bleakly.

  “He’s not very good at it,” Clive observed.

  The lift gave a sudden dive and twisting lurch, literally lifting the humans off their feet and throwing them into the same corner. Clive, with his Zero-G cage fighting reactions, maintained body control throughout the maneuver and with one powerful arm, guided Blythe to a stable landing on her feet.

  “I get it, Libby,” Blythe told the ceiling. “You can stop now.”

  Nineteen

  The Grand Competition was in its last scheduled day when Kelly arrived back on Kasil with her family and Jeeves. Shaun and Kevin came out from Cathedral to meet them, driving a borrowed cart, with Borgia and a couple of native Kasilian dogs following behind.

  “Mary would have come, but they’re putting up preserves today and it’s an all-hands-on-board affair,” Shaun apologized for his absent wife.

  “Seems they could spare the two of you,” Joe jested.

  “I’m all thumbs in the kitchen and the boy eats everything that’s put down in front of him,” Shaun replied. “And how’s our young lassie doing?”

  Dorothy looked up from the collection of interesting bits of this and that which Kevin had been emptying from his pockets to impress her with the folly of ever returning to Union Station.

  “Good, Mr. Crick,” she answered. “But nobody calls me a lassie anymore. They call me an heiress.”

  “We’ll see how long that lasts,” Kelly muttered under her breath to Joe, who regarded her with amusement. Whether or not she was right about being a cog in some Stryx master plan for saving the Kasilians, it seemed to her husband that she had been infected by the miser bug. During the few weeks of her tenure as one of the fat cats of the galaxy, her personal expenditures had dropped as if she felt the need to save every centee for the future. Joe had even caught her folding up the aluminum foil from a take-out container for some undefined reuse, though she laughed it off and claimed she wasn’t even conscious of what she was doing.

  “Does this wagon have to sway so much?” Kelly moaned just a few minutes into the ride. “Stop for a moment and let me down so I can walk for a bit.”

  Shaun reined in the animals and Joe swung Kelly to the ground and then hopped down beside her. The landing reminded him that he was getting a little too old to be hopping off of anything. After twenty minutes of plodding along and nibbling on the hard biscuits Mary had included in their picnic lunch provisions, Kelly felt better and got back into the wagon, riding the rest of the way to Cathedral.

  By the time they reached the guest quarters, the sun was just starting to set. Shaun and Joe continued on with the animals to the stables after dropping off Kelly, Dorothy and Kevin. The communal canning work had come to an end, and the rest of the Cricks were waiting in the dining hall to greet Kelly and her daughter.

  “Where’s Dring?” Kelly asked, after catching up on the agrarian accomplishments of all of the Crick children.

  “He’s off watching the Grand Competition,” Mary explained. “He still comes home every night, not that any of us have ever seen him sleeping.”

  “I do hope they finish on time and appoint a new High Priest who’s willing to listen to me,” Kelly replied hopefully. “I really came to like Yeafah, but she just wasn’t willing to make a decision about abandoning Kasil.”

  “It’s such a lovely place,” Becky said sadly. “Since we’ve been living here, I’ve come to understand the meaning of the visions I used to receive. It’s so hard to believe that all of this will be lost forever.”

  “It doesn’t have to be lost,” Kelly responded fiercely, drawing the attention of the entire Crick clan. “Well, at least the way of life they’ve created here can be saved. It just has to be moved somewhere else.”

  Joe and Shaun entered the dining room, took their seats, and made rapid inroads on the ample provisions.

  “You have to take Dorothy outside to see the show, Kel,” Joe announced between bites. “They must have started lighting candles before it got dark because the whole town is glowing like a fusion core. We almost skipped dinner to stand there and stare, but then we thought we better come in and tell you about it,” he concluded with a happy belch. Shaun nodded his agreement, his mouth too full of pie to speak.

  “Aren’t we blessed to have husbands who always have our best interests at heart,” Mary said, with just the right degree of enthusiasm to convey her skepticism.

  “Whatever their motivations, they are correct about the spectacle,” Jeeves spoke from high above the table, causing Shaun to swallow the wrong way when he looked up. “It means the Grand Competition is concluded and a new High Priest has been selected. We are all invited to the coronation, which will take place as soon as the Stars of Nabay appear.”

  “Come down from there, Jeeves,” Kelly demanded irritably. “Can’t you just float in at ground level like a normal robot? And how many weeks do we have to wait before the Stars of Nabay appear? I’m beginning to suspect this whole competition was just a Kasilian delaying tactic.”

  “Where did Gryph find such a moody ambassador?” Jeeves asked nobody in particular. “The Stars of Nabay, which are the most prominent constellation in the Kasilian sky, will be fully visible in approximately sixteen minutes. So if you don’t want to miss the coronation, I would suggest less talking and more walking.”

  Eleven chairs scraped noisily back from the table as the humans all rose and trooped out the door. After a month of living at Cathedral, the Cricks could have found the main assembly hall in the dark, but as Joe had said, the night was lit up by what seemed to be millions of candles in paper lanterns. Kelly and Mary did their best to ride herd on the younger children, but in the end, they were left with just Kevin and Dorothy. Jeeves vanished as suddenly as he had appeared.

  The main hall of Cathedral was an enormous room that was already packed with locals and the candidate priests who had attended the Grand Competition. But the humans were met at the entrance by Dring, around whom a polite bubble of space was formed. Dring had corralled the other Crick children as they arrived, and once he had the whole human contingent together as a group, he proceeded to lead them all down the main aisle to the very front of the hall.

  Kelly was surprised they were receiving such special treatment
, but she knew that the Kasilians venerated Dring and supposed they had saved a prime pew for the guests. But she was taken aback when Dring led them right up onto the dais and seated them in a row of chairs, one of which was occupied by Yeafah. Dring indicated that Kelly should take the seat next to the outgoing High Priest, after which he went to stand at the end of the row.

  “We’re very honored that you’re making us a part of such a special event for your people,” Kelly addressed Yeafah in her best diplomatic manner, feeling a little self-conscious in front of the huge crowd of Kasilians. “I hope the children don’t create a distraction. It’s hard for Dorothy to sit still for very long.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing, dear,” Yeafah replied with a smile. “We Kasilians don’t stand on ceremony, it will be over in a few minutes. After all, how long can it take to announce the results of a competition which can only have one winner?”

  The question brought back a bittersweet memory of the interminable school awards ceremonies Kelly had suffered through in her childhood, where everybody got a prize for something. She even seemed to recall a particularly dreamy boy in her sixth grade class getting an award for passivity. Of course, the combination of tutor bots and emigration put all schools in the position of having to hunt for students, and handing out boxes of ribbons and certificates to all attendees was a cheap insurance policy. Suddenly Kelly realized that Yeafah was no longer sitting beside her and that the former High Priest had already begun her announcement.

  “And it is with great pleasure I can announce that the rumors you have undoubtedly heard are true. The winning priest is the first individual in our history to solve not only one, but the entire set of Nabay’s challenge problems, an accomplishment prophesized to initiate the dawn of a new age for our people. So without further ado, I give you the High Priest of Kasil!”

  The assembled throng burst into the chant, “High Priest, High Priest,” as Metoo floated onto the dais, bobbing to the left and right as he came. The little Stryx approached Yeafah, who removed a black stone ring from her own ring finger and stuck it onto the lower jaw of the robot’s extended pincer. Metoo bobbed again, then remained alone in front of the multitude as Yeafah returned to her seat and the hall fell quiet.