by E. M. Foner
Space Living
Book Four of EarthCent Universe
Copyright 2020 by E. M. Foner
One
“If I knew that dancing would be so much work, I never would have let you teach me,” Bill groaned as he slumped into the shuttle’s seat. “I’m exhausted.”
“But Rinka told me that she never saw Julie looking so happy,” Jorb said. “And the catering was incredible. Not that there’s anything wrong with the food that you and Harry prepare in the cafeteria,” he amended himself hastily.
“I still can’t believe I didn’t get my feet tangled up and fall on my face when the band started playing that modern stuff. What was it?”
The Drazen shrugged and stretched his tentacle. “Some kind of Horten music. The bandleader is Marilla’s boyfriend. I introduced you to her.”
“You introduced me to more people than I normally meet in a year,” Bill said. “I still feel weird about going to the wedding of people I don’t even know.”
“You met Samuel and Vivian at the Con six months ago when she won the ‘Best Drazen’ competition,” Jorb reminded his friend. “She was still working for Drazen Intelligence back then.”
“Vivian is a spy too?”
“Not anymore, unless she’s in charge of starting a new intelligence service for the Human Empire,” Jorb said. “I’ll have to ask her at lunch tomorrow. You and Julie are invited, by the way.”
“I still don’t understand why Julie and Rinka couldn’t come back with us.”
“Because they have to escort Vivian to her honeymoon suite on Flower,” Jorb explained patiently. “It’s a females-only thing.”
“Why are Samuel and Vivian following Drazen customs?”
“It’s not a Drazen custom. The bridal escort is common courtesy for newlyweds all around the tunnel network, and it made sense for Rinka and Julie to volunteer since they don’t have to return to Union Station afterward. Flower is departing as soon as the wedding party is back on board.”
“So your friend Samuel is on the shuttle with us?” Bill asked, leaning to the side to look down the aisle.
“He’s already on Flower preparing the suite for his bride,” Jorb said. “Haven’t you ever been to a wedding before?”
“Just once, at the independent living cooperative, when Jack and Nancy got married.”
The Drazen gave his friend a look of concern. “You really didn’t attend any weddings before you joined Flower?”
“I thought I explained that my mom was in a cult back home and we basically spent all of our time selling grey market stuff out of a pushcart. People like us didn’t have weddings, they just moved in together. And then when I got suckered into leaving Earth to work on an unlicensed picking crew, I didn’t even see a woman for over a year.”
“Well, now that you’ve been to a fancy wedding, what do you think?”
“That Julie and I will be old before we can afford to get married,” Bill said. “Vivian’s mother must have spent a thousand creds just on that cake! I captured a bunch of images with my implant to show Harry and my classmates.”
“Is that what the hospitality and foodservice students all do at the Open University? Hang around exchanging baking porn?”
“After I finally passed the entrance exam, Flower got me advanced credit for my work with Harry, so I started right in with the cake estimating course. I’m not going to school for credentials—I’m only interested in the practical lessons that I can apply to opening my own business.”
“Humans are the only species I’ve ever heard of who go to school part-time,” Jorb said. “You’re missing out on the whole student experience.”
“You mean the parties and stuff? It’s not my thing, and I’m not interested in meeting any more girls. Julie is more than enough for me, and I barely have time to spend alone with her as it is.”
“So have the two of you set a date yet?”
“We talk about it, though after seeing what a real wedding is like, I’m worried she’s going to start having second thoughts,” Bill said.
“That wasn’t an ordinary wedding,” Jorb said. “Between Samuel’s mother being the EarthCent ambassador and Vivian’s mother being the cofounder of InstaSitter, they’re practically Human royalty. And her father is the Director of EarthCent Intelligence. Do you know what that means?”
Bill hazarded a guess. “They put the whole thing on their expense accounts?”
“It means that most of those guests you saw were invited for political or business reasons. And I’ll bet you that the majority of the invitees showed up just to see the other important guests. Maker Dring was there, along with the local ambassadors from all of the tunnel network species, and most of the top business types on the station. My parents even put in an appearance.”
“Did you talk to them?”
“I would have tried if I thought they’d listen, but you know they wanted me to marry the daughter of some other major stakeholders in their consortium. They don’t approve of me finding Rinka on my own.”
“But you and Rinka aren’t even officially engaged yet.”
“We passed our second compatibility test, so it’s just another nine and a half years on your calendar and then we can make it official. Maybe my parents will come around when they see that we’re really serious.”
There was a high-pitched buzzing from the row behind them which Bill’s implant translated into a voice saying, “The two of you sound like a bad Vergallian soap opera.”
“Is that you, M793qK?” Jorb asked. “I didn’t see you when we boarded.”
“That’s because I got on before you and I put all the armrests down so I could stretch out and rest my weary chitin,” the Farling said. “If the two of you think that dancing is exhausting, try doing it with a carapace.”
“You looked better than I did out there and you didn’t lack for partners,” Bill said over his shoulder. “What do all of those women see in you?”
“Free medical advice. While you were attempting to lose yourself in the rhythm, I was diagnosing everything from an acute iron deficiency to ball-gown-induced anorexia. I don’t understand why Human females can’t wear dresses with elastic in the waist like normal humanoid species.”
“We will be arriving home in one minute,” Flower announced over the shuttle’s public address system. “If you removed your magnetic cleats to dance and left them behind, there are spares under the seats. And don’t forget to return your footrests to the stored position.”
“Are the two of you awake enough to work?” M793qK inquired.
“Us?” Bill asked.
“Who else could I possibly be addressing?” the Farling physician demanded irritably. “While dancing with the EarthCent ambassador, I got her final go-ahead for the contract to set up a certification lab for the All Species Cookbook on Flower. This shuttle is loaded with test samples, and I want to get started right away.”
“You closed a business deal with the ambassador at her son’s wedding?” Jorb asked.
“She brought it up,” M793qK said. “Dewey has been on Union Station for a week hashing out the details with the ambassador’s special assistant, a charming Vergallian princess who must enjoy slumming with Humans. When Ambassador McAllister mentioned that her only remaining regret in life was taking money to extend the All Species Cookbook seal of approval to anybody willing to pay the license fee, I knew the timing was right. I offered my own services to put the whole thing on a scientific basis.”
“Our services,” Flower interjected via an overhead speaker.
“Our services,” the Farling conceded. “And as the two of you surprised me by remaining reasonably sober at the reception,
I shall avail myself of your services as porters.”
“Thanks a lot,” Jorb muttered as the shuttle set down on the deck of the giant cylindrical hangar in Flower’s core.
“So you want us to bring all the stuff to your clinic?” Bill asked.
“Where do you get these insane ideas?” M793qK rubbed out on his speaking legs. “Take it all to our cafeteria, or the kitchen, to be more precise. Flower assures me that you and Harry don’t use a third of the storage available.”
“You’re going to use the aliens who eat in the cafeteria for guinea pigs?”
“Bring it on,” Jorb said, releasing his safety restraints and rising. “I enjoy adventure eating.”
“Which is what disqualifies you for the role,” the giant beetle said, as he maneuvered his bulky body into the aisle. “I’ll be setting up a safety lab in the kitchen, after which the samples will be taste-tested by Human volunteers. Their crude digestive systems make them the lowest common denominator on the galactic food chain, which is ideal for All Species Cookbook certification purposes.”
“It’s nice to find out that we’re good for something after all,” Bill said to Jorb as he followed the two aliens to the back exit of the shuttle. They shuffled down the ramp on their magnetic cleats, and M793qK led the way to the cargo section where the samples were stored. The access panel dropped down as they approached.
“Take the packages addressed to the All Species Cookbook, care of the EarthCent Embassy on Union Station,” the Farling instructed them. “Grab a couple of floating carts and bring everything up through one of the cargo lift tubes. Flower can show you the back way into the kitchen.”
“Aren’t you going to help?” Bill asked.
“That was originally my plan, but there’s been a medical emergency that requires my immediate attention,” the giant beetle said, already backing away. “Just leave the samples out and I’ll stop by the kitchen later and sort through them. And don’t eat any of it.”
“I’ve never seen him move so fast,” Jorb observed as M793qK skittered off on his magnetic cleats.
“He did say there was a medical emergency,” Bill said. “I don’t think he would lie about something like that. Flower?”
“There’s always a medical emergency somewhere,” the Dollnick AI responded ambiguously. “Be careful when you load those packages. Some of them include large glass jars, and even though they don’t weigh much on this deck, their masses are unchanged, and they’ll break if you crash them together.”
“Let’s find a couple of floater carts and get this over with,” Jorb said.
Forty minutes later, Flower guided the pair of over-dressed cargo handlers through a back entrance and into the kitchen of the cafeteria where Bill helped Harry prepare meals for alien spies traveling alone. Once inside, the young man looked around in puzzlement.
“Where did that door come from?” Bill asked. “I’m pretty sure there was a wall here.”
“Give me a little credit for tight seams,” Flower replied. “You’ve just never seen the commercial entrance open before because I have my bots make deliveries during the off hours.”
“Why didn’t you have your bots deliver this lot?”
“Because you and Jorb were available and I prefer to avoid using automation wherever possible,” the Dollnick AI said. “Are you awake enough to unpack the samples and put the boxes and wrapping in the carts?”
“Will you send bots to pick up the trash?” Jorb countered.
“Recycling,” Flower said. “Deal.”
“I can’t believe we let them talk us into this,” Bill grumbled as he tore the wrapping off the closest package. “This is going to take an hour, and I was hoping to see Julie before going to bed.”
“She and Rinka will be tied up with getting Vivian settled in for a while yet,” Jorb said. “They don’t just escort her to the honeymoon suite and abandon her. They have to stay outside the door just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” Bill asked, removing a gigantic jar of pickled something from a box.
“In case Vivian changes her mind about being married and wants to back out. It’s just a formality. They can’t escort her back to her familial home since we left Union Station a few minutes ago.” Jorb frowned at a plastic-wrapped brick of small rectangular packages as he puzzled out the English. “What are ramen noodles?”
“Are you being serious? They’re one of the main food groups on Earth.”
The alien grabbed a kitchen knife, slit open a corner of the plastic, and extracted a package. “I’m going to try one. Do you know how to boil water?”
“Now I know you’re not being serious,” Bill said. “Put it back or we’ll get in trouble with M793qK.”
“There are twenty-four identical packages, he doesn’t need them all for testing,” Jorb said, moving over to where the pots hung over the industrial stovetop. “Two cups of water. Is that like coffee cups or beer cups?”
Bill shook his head in resignation. “You keep unpacking and I’ll make the ramen. How much of the flavor package do you want me to use?”
“Do you need the rest of it for something else?”
“No, it’s just that it’s got enough salt to give you a heart attack. I only use about a quarter of the package myself.”
“Give me the whole thing. I live for sodium chloride.”
Bill dutifully brought the water to a nearly instant boil on the Dollnick induction stove, dumped in the flavor package, and added the block of ramen noodles. “Do you want anything else in there?”
“What are my options?” Jorb asked, reaching for another box with his tentacle.
“I could nuke some vegetables to throw in, or add an egg. The truth is, you can put almost anything in ramen—it’s like a universal base.”
“I think I should try it straight the first time to get the full experience.” The Drazen looked over as the door leading to the cafeteria swung open. “Hey, Yaem. Did Flower send you to help out?”
“I wasn’t expecting anybody to be in here,” the Sharf said, and then belatedly attempted to hide the bag he was carrying behind his back.
“Did you miss a meal because we took the day off?” Bill asked. “I saw most of our usual gang at the wedding, I guess some of them knew the bride and groom before joining Flower. And I thought Woojin invited all of you to the wedding to mix with some of the other alien spies. You didn’t go?”
“I’m not a fan of dance music,” Yaem admitted. “Flower pinged me earlier to say I would be the only one at dinner tonight, so I told her not to bother and that I’d take care of myself.” He brought the bag out from behind his back. “I popped over to Union Station to take care of some business and I bought these slug roots to fry up for myself.”
“Do you know how to use the stove?” Bill asked, having some experience with aliens like Jorb who never learned how to cook for themselves.
“I was going to ask Flower,” the alien admitted.
“My noodles are going to get soggy while the two of you play kitchen,” Jorb complained. “Put that bowl back and just give me the pot. And some of those little spears to get the noodles out.”
“Chopsticks,” Bill said, sticking a pair in the pot and adding a spoon for good measure. “I’ll get a pan heated up for you, Yaem. Do you fry the, uh, slug roots in oil?”
“You don’t have to cook for me,” the Sharf said, but he put the bag on the counter and pushed it in Bill’s direction. “A little of that olive oil in the pan would probably be a good idea.”
“This is excellent,” Jorb said after slurping down a quarter of the noodles on his first go. He grabbed another package of ramen and tossed it to Yaem. “You should try your slug root in ramen.”
Bill rolled his eyes and put another small pot on the stove next to the frying pan. The kitchen door opened again and a stunningly beautiful woman dressed in an expensive gown stepped through and came to a sudden halt. “Oh. So the kitchen is in use.”
“Join us, Avisia,” Jorb
welcomed the latest arrival. “Feeling a little peckish after the wedding feast?”
“I only had a sliver of cake and some fruit,” the Vergallian intelligence agent who ran a finishing school for girls explained. “Men kept asking me to dance, and by the time I took a break, the vegan food was all gone.”
“Ramen noodles might be vegan, though I don’t know about the flavoring,” Bill told her. He picked up the torn package from the block of noodles he had just dumped into the pot for Yaem and scanned the ingredient list. “This one is vegetarian, but I’m not sure what some of those chemicals are.”
“Who cares as long as they’re tasty,” Jorb said. “You know, I could go for another serving myself.” He tossed two more of the small packages to Bill. “What? There’s still twenty left for M793qK to destructively test.”
“Are those truffles?” Avisia asked, and began peeling open one of the retail boxes that Jorb had unpacked. “This is turning into my lucky day.”
“Hey, let me in there,” Yaem said. He moved around the counter and started rummaging through the samples.
“Just leave enough for the Farling to test,” Jorb cautioned the other two aliens. “He and Flower made a contract with the EarthCent embassy to certify the products that get the All Species Cookbook seal of approval.”
“These truffles are already approved so I guess he won’t have to test them,” Avisia said and held up the package. “See?”
“That only means they paid the fee,” Jorb told her. “Just leave a couple in there. Okay?”
“Is somebody making ramen?” a new voice inquired, and everybody turned to see the Grenouthian director had silently padded into the kitchen. “I’ll take two packages, and you better make at least four for Brynlan. And he likes them crunchy.”
“Didn’t any of you guys eat at the wedding?” Bill asked, taking down another pot.
“That was hours ago,” the director said. “I have a fast metabolism.”
“I thought you’d be taking it easy for a while now that the second season of Everyday Superheroes is in post-production,” Avisia said from the corner, where she had retreated with her box of chocolate-coated truffles.
