Space Living (EarthCent Universe Book 4)

by E. M. Foner

  “I don’t think you’d convince them to work,” Rinka cautioned him.

  “We aren’t asking for miracles,” Snap said, finally letting go of his two humanoid supports and resuming a tilting back-and-forth motion on his unicycle. “Just that they report when things start to break rather than waiting until the damage is beyond repair, and contribute to a replacement parts fund like most of the other Wanderers. Please ask Flower to give us until the next meal period to think about this.”

  “I’m sure she’ll welcome any decision you reach,” Julie said. “It was very nice meeting you. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  Julie looked to Rinka, hoping that if the Zarents had an official parting ceremony, the Drazen would know about it. Rinka gestured at her own neck.

  “Oh,” Julie said, and began gently removing Twelfth Apprentice Life Support’s tentacles. The task proved beyond her ability, due to the little Zarent’s numerical advantage in appendages. She gave Snap an apologetic smile. “I’m afraid I’ll have to impose on you for help.”

  “Certainly, but I wasn’t worried about your absconding with our apprentice,” the chief engineer said and pointed towards a table where a line of Zarents was forming. “You have a box full of action figures to sign.”

  Fourteen

  “Who wants something that’s not from the All Species Cookbook testing samples?” Bill asked. “Harry made vegetable tempura. Everybody except for Razood likes that, right?”

  “Stop holding out on us,” Jorb said. “I know that Dewey brought back a new shipment of junk food in the bookmobile, and my information says it includes a case of barbeque chips, the kind with the flames on the package.”

  “You’re spying on the EarthCent embassy’s shipments to Flower?”

  “It’s part of my job,” the Drazen said. “It’s part of your job too.”

  “No, Bill’s a double agent working for EarthCent,” Yaem said, taking his seat at the table. “You know they wouldn’t let him work for me long-term without supervision.”

  A giant beetle entered the cafeteria and seemed to be looking everywhere at once through his multifaceted eyes. “I better not see any packaging from our new shipment of test products lying around,” he rubbed out on his speaking legs. “Sometimes I think that you lot are as bad as the Wanderers.”

  “Wait until they start paying you with this,” Razood said. He flipped a five-cred coin to M793qK, who snatched it out of the air with one of his appendages.

  The Farling didn’t need two seconds to examine the coin. “Counterfeit. How much have they passed?”

  “I don’t know,” Flower joined in via an overhead speaker. “I’ve put Lynx in charge of assessing the damage since she’s the point of contact for bazaar vendors, but it looks bad.”

  “This is why the Stryx limit the number of Wanderers they’ll allow to visit a station at one time, even when a whole mob is parked right alongside,” Lume said. “There’s always a rash of bad coinage, and the five cred pieces seem to be the most common target.”

  “Valuable enough to pay for a meal, small enough not to draw undue attention,” Razood agreed. “I’ve started running every coin through my miniregister, but the problem is that they’re already in widespread circulation, so the people bringing them in probably aren’t aware they’re passing counterfeits. Fortunately, most of my business is for high-end weapons that are paid for with programmable creds, but I took that coin for sharpening a set of chef’s knives.”

  “The Stryx make good the counterfeits for the local merchants after a Wanderer mob comes through,” M793qK said. “Of course, the Stryx also begin scanning visitors from the mob for counterfeits after the first wave appears, so the damage isn’t that great.”

  “Why do the Stryx wait if they know that it’s going to be a problem?” Bill asked,

  “Just sit, already,” Yaem said, pushing an empty chair at the young man. “And while not a tunnel network member myself, from what I know of the Stryx, they are probably applying an excess of caution in not prejudging the Wanderers based on the conduct of the last mob.”

  “But Lume just said that the Stryx limit the number of Wanderers they’ll allow aboard a station at one time.”

  “That’s because the Stryx aren’t stupid.”

  “I don’t like the implication of your statement,” Flower said.

  “Nobody is accusing you of anything,” the Sharf amended himself hastily. “And I’ve finished translating all of those instructions for operating your assembly line should you ever get it assembled.”

  “I believe I have that under control now. The reason I asked you all here today is to come up with a plan for dealing with the Wanderers. We haven’t been able to conduct business as usual at our last four stops, and several species have added me to their quarantine list.”

  “I actually haven’t seen as many Wanderers hanging around the food court the last few days,” Lume said.

  “That’s because at any given time, there are hundreds of them Live Action Role Playing, and thousands gathered outside the studios waiting in line for their turn,” Flower said. “It’s the first time I’ve ever heard of Wanderers waiting patiently for anything, and some of the Con deck food vendors are doing a good business selling them snacks.”

  “But are they getting paid with real money or counterfeit?” Razood asked.

  “A mix of both,” Flower said. “I think the Wanderers have already run through most of the counterfeit supply they brought with them, and I’m hardly going to allow them to set up shop on the ship. During my inspection of the Miklat, my bots discovered a number of small counterfeiting setups which I’ve put into storage to deliver to the Stryx for their collection.”

  “I thought that Stryx creds couldn’t be counterfeited,” Bill said. “Somebody told me they have quantum things in them and every coin is unique.”

  “If you put a coin in a Stryx register, or even a miniregister like the one I have, it will immediately identify them as counterfeits,” Razood told his former apprentice. “But most people don’t bother with one-cred and five-cred denominations, so then it’s just a question of the look and the feel.”

  “Can I request dipping sauce with that tempura?” Jorb asked. “Something with a little heat to it?”

  “Sorry, I forgot all about the food,” Bill said, jumping up. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  “I believe the rule is that he who makes one of us get up should fetch the drinks for the rest,” the Grenouthian director drawled. “And if this is an all-hands-on-deck meeting, where are Brynlan and Battle Royale?”

  “Avisia refuses to leave her students during school hours while there are young Wanderers on the loose,” Flower reported. “I told her that most of the Human males would be too busy LARPing to cause problems, but she said it’s the ones who don’t play games that worry her the most. As for Brynlan, he undertook a mission to the Verlock contingent of Wanderers for me, but he’s on his way here now.”

  Jorb installed himself behind the bar and began taking drink orders. By the time he brought them out, Bill was back with an enormous platter of vegetable tempura and several bowls of dipping sauce. Bill set down the bowl covered with tin foil at Jorb’s place and explained, “The foil keeps my eyes from watering while I carry it out.”

  “If you’ve all seen to your creature comforts, we have a serious problem here,” Flower said as the spies began crunching away. “The Zarents have accepted my gift of the Miklat, and tomorrow I’ll present them with the maintenance bots I purchased and reprogrammed. I’ve been employing my own bots more than I’d like in effecting the Miklat’s repairs, but I estimate that the Zarents will now be able to finish putting her back into operating condition in less than two weeks. The problem will be getting the Wanderers to go.”

  “You’re confident that the Zarents will have them?” Razood asked.

  “Eighty-four point two percent,” the Dollnick A.I. said. “It’s a risk
, but I’m hoping that the bots will tip the balance in my favor. The Zarents themselves may not realize it yet, but as the owners of the Miklat, for the first time they’ll be able to prevent the Wanderers from selling off the ship’s equipment. In fact, I specifically programmed the bots to require approval from one of the Zarent engineering staff for any mission that takes them outside of the ship’s hull.”

  “A wise precaution,” M793qK said. “I’ve spent more time with Zarents this last cycle than in the previous ten thousand years, and it strikes me how independent-minded they’ve become. While this group may be outliers due to their untenable conditions of employment, I’d like to believe that the whole species is undergoing a growth spurt, in the sense of social evolution. I think the idea of working for themselves and tolerating the Wanderers as supercargo will be a very attractive proposition for them, at least until they develop the desire to live wholly on their own.”

  “But won’t their newfound confidence make it less likely that the Wanderers will want to return to the Miklat, even if invited?” Yaem asked.

  “In my experience, the Wanderers crave authority,” the Farling said. “One of the mistakes the Zarents have made in the past is constantly seeking authorization and approval for their maintenance activities. Since the Wanderers owned the ship, this was an unavoidable ritual for both sides, but now the Zarents will be able to remain in the background.”

  “Excuse me,” Bill said to M793qK. “Did you say something about associating with the Zarents for over ten thousand years?”

  “Only on the rare and unavoidable occasions that I crossed paths with a mob,” the giant beetle replied.

  Yaem elbowed Bill and whispered, “Don’t ask him about his age. It’s considered a challenge of sorts in the Farling hierarchy.”

  “As long as the Zarents are willing to accept them, we could just chase the Wanderers back onto the Miklat,” Jorb said energetically. “I know you have a full complement of combat bots for repelling boarders, Flower. It’s clear to me that the Wanderers turned our rescue into a sort of stealth boarding, and now that we know they don’t have any intention of leaving, you have every right to give them a push.”

  “You forget that I’m representing EarthCent here,” the Dollnick AI responded. “As much as I’d like to employ my bots to deport the Wanderers, eventually the Humans will bear the brunt of it. You know what’s happened to species that got on the wrong side of the Wanderers in the past.”

  “What?” Bill asked.

  “Word gets around the mobs, and more and more of them start showing up at your homeworld,” Razood said. “Can you imagine billions of needy sentients on hundreds of thousands of vessels clogging up your space and making all kinds of mischief?”

  “Why don’t you just, you know. You all have war fleets.”

  “Shoot them?” Razood took a sip from the wine Jorb had brought him and asked, “Who wants to explain it to him?”

  “Wanderer mobs include large numbers of members from all of the tunnel network species except for the Grenouthians, and they avoid Grenouthian space,” Lume told Bill. “They don’t present a threat in the military sense, they’re just a terrible nuisance. But you never know when a mob might include that uncle or cousin that nobody in the family ever talks about. When it comes down to it, we’re all willing to pay to keep them away as long as they don’t come around looking for hand-outs too often.”

  “And the Stryx seem to think they serve a purpose in the greater scheme of things,” Jorb added. “There are even rumors that the mobs have to clear their visits with the Stryx beforehand. It’s extremely rare for a solo Wanderer vessel to put out a distress call like this, and we just got unlucky.”

  “But if it’s not the first time, there must be some sort of history,” Bill persisted. “What happened after the last rescue?”

  “According to my records, the Koffern took a similar number of Wanderers on board some four thousand years ago after responding to an emergency distress call,” Flower said.

  “Koffern,” Jorb repeated. “Why does that name sound so familiar?”

  “It’s the featured ship in that Wanderer Mob anime that was up for one of our prizes at the awards,” the Grenouthian director said.

  “It also stopped with the mob that came to Union Station a few years back,” Razood added.

  “In other words, once the Wanderers got on board, they never left,” Flower said grimly. “The crew either joined up or abandoned the ship to their guests.”

  “You should definitely evict them by force,” Bill said.

  “Unless this is a test,” Lume said thoughtfully.

  “You think the Wanderers are testing us?”

  “I think the Stryx may be testing Flower.”

  “My mentor did mention something about wanting to show the other Stryx how much I’d progressed,” Flower said. “If this whole experience was intended as a compliment to my growth, I would have preferred an insult. But it does give us another reason to keep forcible eviction as the last option. Any other ideas?”

  “Trick them,” the Grenouthian said. “When the Zarents have finished their work on the Miklat, lay a trail of take-out food to the docking bay and onto your shuttles.”

  “I meant serious ideas. I’m beginning to think that your immersion in the anime market is leading to a distorted sense of reality.”

  “Maybe not take-out food, but trickery could be our best option,” Yaem said. “Is there any way you could extend the LARPing environment so that while the Wanderers think they are acting out quests in virtual reality, they’re actually boarding shuttles and returning to the Miklat?”

  “That’s a brilliant idea, but no,” Flower replied. “The Stryx could do it, but it’s far beyond my capacity. I can only maintain high-quality interactive holograms inside the LARPing studios where the hardware we installed is doing most of the work.”

  “How about the old emergency evacuation trick?” Jorb suggested. “I know that the Fleet Vergallians have used it successfully to clear the undesirables off of their orbitals. You fake some technical problem with your radiation shielding or an impending catastrophic pile failure and announce that everybody has to move to the Miklat for safety. We know that the Wanderers are going to push to the front of the line, and you could seed in a couple of thousand Humans for show who would return on the last shuttles.”

  “Would the Wanderers fall for that?” Bill asked.

  “It’s hard to think straight when the klaxons go off and the emergency lighting comes on,” Lume said. “And if Flower simulates the right disaster, one that gives us a little time for evacuation, it would only be natural that the long-time occupants would lag behind as they have more belongings to gather. The Wanderers would be motivated to leave early to claim the best cabin space on the Miklat for themselves.”

  “The Miklat doesn’t have the capacity to take on board all of my current residents,” Flower pointed out.

  “But the Wanderers won’t care about that. They’ll say that if being rescued by strangers was good enough for them, it’s good enough for the rest of us.”

  “Brynlan,” the Grenouthian director greeted the slow-footed Verlock who had just made his way into the cafeteria. “You’re missing an amusing discussion of whether we should chase the Wanderers off Flower with warbots or trick them into leaving by announcing an emergency evacuation.”

  “You’re forgetting something,” the Verlock pronounced slowly. “They are the true experts in this area.”

  “Evacuations?” Bill asked.

  “Attempts to force them to leave,” Brynlan said. “I have just returned from negotiations with the Verlock contingent, and providing we can find them a place to go, they are willing to move along for the standard proportional bribe.”

  “Works for me,” Yaem said immediately.

  “I’m sure my budget would stretch to it,” Razood concurred.

  “Hold on a minute,” Lume said, looking worried. “You’re the only Sharf living on bo
ard, Yaem. We only have a dozen or so Verlocks and at most a hundred Frunge. But there are several hundred Dollnicks working in the distribution business alone, and a head tax would run into serious coin.”

  “I’m sorry to keep interrupting, but what are you guys talking about?” Bill asked.

  “Standard operating procedure for mobs is to outstay their welcome and only leave when they’ve been bought off,” Flower explained. “When the Wanderers visit a Stryx station, they typically host a banquet for the ambassadors of all the species that are represented in the mob. The ambassadors are expected to make cash pledges backed by their governments, in addition to providing repair parts for ships built by their species.”

  “Isn’t that extortion?”

  “Of course,” Yaem said. “Extortion is the entire Wanderer business model in a nutshell. And as the only Sharf resident on Flower, my payment to the Wanderers will just be a symbolic amount to save face for the members of my species. I could probably get away with twenty creds.”

  “So how much are you on the hook for, Brynlan?” the Grenouthian director asked.

  “I got them down to a hundred creds and some old documentaries about volcanic activity on large moons,” the Verlock said smugly. “Of course, that’s all pending the Zarents accepting them back, and the mage wants the LARPing studios.” He used a fork to poke at the remaining pieces of vegetable tempura until he found a hard one that had been fried too long. “Ah, excellent.”

  “It won’t work,” Flower said. “I have over six hundred thousand Humans on board so a head tax would be astronomical. Even though Earth is off-limits to Wanderers while it’s a Stryx protectorate, the mobs could show up at open worlds with sovereign communities if we refuse to pay the head tax for Humans.”

  “Why should finding a way to get rid of the Wanderers be your problem?” Yaem asked. “Don’t we have the hierarchy of the new Human Empire on board?”

  The Farling doctor, who had been silent through most of the discussion, began to buzz away on his speaking legs. “That’s the perfect solution. As there are no tunnel network ambassadors on Flower, the Wanderers will demand that negotiations be held with the senior diplomats on hand. That the Human Empire represents, after a fashion, over ninety-nine percent of Flower’s inhabitants is just a bonus. I’ve played poker with young McAllister’s father, so I know him to be from good bluffing stock, which is what it will take to win.”