Cooking Hot

by Pam Uphoff

  Urfa nodded. "Good thought, so Rael? Go poke around. And the rest of you? Plan on going to the fair."

  Ohhe paused, a hand half raised. "Umm, cultural displays? Would there be room enough for the Black Horse Honor Guard to put on a bit of a show?"

  ***

  "And with news of a lighter sort, here's our correspondent from Embassy World, Napoleon Zambrano. Napoleon?"

  "Michele, it's looking more and more like a fall festival, here on the serious and business-like Embassy World. The world that only diplomats, trade delegations, and the deathly ill ever visit has apparently decided to have some fun." Napoleon stepped to the side and half turned to wave at the Plaza. "As you see, the Disco people are taping off spots for the food booths and cultural displays. Only ten governments are jumping on this challenge with such short notice, the Earth of course and Purple. Three nations from Comet Fall. One Rain of Fire branch Earth and one Tunguska branch. The British Empire, and both Arbolia and Arrival from their world. The Empire of the One appears to have suffered a minor rebellion, with one of their Colony Worlds wanting to showcase their native cuisine, as well as the two branches of the Imperial government bureaucracy in a cook-off of their own."

  The silly twit back home at least had the wit to ask an obvious question.

  "Two branches?"

  "Yes, the Ministries answer to the Council, the Directorates to the President. So we have a Civil War—or perhaps I should call it a Civil Food Fight—between the Embassy's top Chef representing the Ministries and a former Action Teamer with a cooking hobby representing the Directorates." Napoleon stepped in with a grin. "Hopefully there will be no bloodshed, just lots of good food!"

  Chapter Six

  20 Hija 1408 yp

  Embassy World

  The list totaled up . . . impressively. And was returned promptly with a signed authorization order and a payment code.

  Ebsa got out his comp and started making calls. The laser repeater on the gate connected him automatically through to the One World. The slight delay was unnoticeable if you weren’t listening for it.

  "Souvenir Specialties. How may I help you?" A female voice full of forced good cheer.

  "I need a large order delivered in ten days. Do you have those 12 centimeter unicorn plates in stock?"

  "Oh yes. How many do you need?"

  "Ten thousand."

  "Ten . . . thousand . . . " Faked cheer replaced by genuine bogglement. "Let me check . . . "

  A long silence . . .

  Then a male voice. "You actually want ten thousand of the One Damned things? I can throw them on the truck and deliver them to you today if you're anywhere near the corridor network."

  "Yes, sir. I need them delivered here to the Empire's embassy on the Embassy World. If your truck won't fit through a gate . . . " Ebsa paused at the choking sound, then decided to just keep going. "I can give you a Gate City address."

  "I can drive a gate." He sounded breathless. "But . . . authorizations and stuff . . . isn't there a lot of security?"

  Ebsa started tapping at his comp. "Do you know the license of your truck? Right. I'm sending you the pass, follow the delivery signs to the security gate and they'll have your data all ready. If you've never driven a gate, ask them for a driver."

  I thought that would be the hard part! So, what do I need next, oh a means to cook everything. Right, and some idea of where we're doing this and how much space we'll need.

  He glanced toward the kitchen. That grill is a bit undersized . . . except . . . if I cut the meat up into medium to small bites . . . No. I can crowd on thirty steaks at a time, then cut them when they’re done. I'll need a hot buffet and a work table. I suspect people would appreciate chairs and tables . . . Table cloths, paper or plastic, so we can just toss them periodically . . .

  I’ll need helpers . . .

  He got on the comp and ordered the paper and plastic goods.

  Called three groceries back home and put in orders enough ahead of time that they'd have everything he needed . . .

  Called it a day and went in search of Paer.

  ***

  ". . . so we shift the skin gradually as all the skin cells divide as we've told them." A gorgeous middle-aged woman was talking to Paer and three other young women. Dr. Atly was across the bed from them, looking stunned. "So we avoid both scarring and adhesions."

  Ebsa hung back, not interrupting.

  "Fortunately we don't have much deep muscle charring, and only two patients with serious eye damage. This young man, the damage was severe enough that to recover fully it is necessary for him to regrow the entire eye, while we repair the eye socket and . . . "

  Ebsa fled. My assistant cooks. Making an accidental fuel-air bomb out of flour when the giant rats attacked.

  It won’t happen again. It’ll be all right if I hire some workers for the day.

  Ebsa decided to take a walk and familiarize himself with the city . . . well, small town . . . with skyscrapers.

  Dr. Coffee's trio of children were out, the younger girl galloping around the inlaid stone and metal model solar system that covered the entire plaza. Goose, probably spelled Goos or Gooz, or maybe a nickname with no relation to the official designation. Epic was circling the fountain, balancing on the rim of the pool. The older girl, Sophy, was posing on the far side, trying to look cool while her robo-cam flew around taking her picture.

  I wonder which sibling gets pushed into the pool when Epic gets around to her spot?

  Two other children, with a governess type and guard type trailing them. The ambassador's younger pair? I barely glanced at them last night.

  Ebsa looked back at the nearest embassy building. Arbolian. A big blank square, just a high wide arch on the side facing the plaza giving a glimpse of a sunlit inner courtyard. Then around the corner and on the opposite side of the plaza from the Oner Embassy, the Earth Embassy.

  Ebsa paused and eyed it. Thirty floors of plain glass, but steel accents rose from around the entry, spreading out with square cornered branches in a stylistic tree.

  "Interesting, isn't it?"

  Ebsa turned to find the elevator man behind him.

  "Yes. Artistic. It turns a plain building into something very striking."

  The man nodded. "You should come out at night, the building's lights turn it into a silhouette." He paused. "What . . . was going on with your group, last night?"

  "Just old friends and companions getting together. We were about half of Ajha's Helios Hunting Team for, oh, over two years, before we finally had to admit that anyone we couldn't find was probably dead."

  "Slim pickings at the end?" He looked genuinely curious, so Ebsa nodded.

  "And they were hunting for us, by then. Which was quite handy; they got all the remaining kidnapped women together as bait. All four of them. I won't say it made it easy to rescue them, but one large effort and done." Ebsa shrugged. "We kept searching, but that was the last rescue."

  The man hunched his shoulders. "I'm Asnu. Call me Good."

  "Ebsa. I have managed to shed all my childhood nicknames. Although I kind of miss being called Kitchen." He eyed the man. "So you're working for the Ministry?”

  "Sort of. I just graduated. I've got applications out to six law schools and Father said an internship here would look good."

  "Unpaid flunky?"

  "You got it."

  Ebsa grinned. "You should write up a paper on this first mass culture clash, with special notes about cross-dimensional legal issues."

  "Legal? Here? It's pretty much what Xen Wolfson says."

  "Umm, ramifications of an ultra simple legal system under an effective tyrant?"

  That got him a boggled look.

  "I really don't think that's the sort of thing one writes up in law school."

  Ebsa shrugged. "I wouldn't know . . . do you really like law practice?"

  A deep sigh. "I don't know. It's interesting . . . but am I going to wind up doing the interesting stuff or low level writing contracts and s
o forth?"

  Ebsa grinned, and turned north. "We should go ask if there's any written compendium of laws for non-embassy portions of Embassy World."

  Good looked up at the blocky black Disco building. "You have got to be kidding me. Just the building alone is scary."

  "Dare you."

  Running footsteps. All three of Coffee's kids.

  "I'll do it. I'm not scared." Epic glanced at the black heap and firmed his lips.

  His sister sniffed. "I heard it was just a spell."

  The youngest edged closer and grabbed her brother's hand. "I'll go in too."

  Wait. I was just . . . Oh what the hell. I'm curious and it is just a spell. Really.

  Ebsa squared up his shoulders and headed for the Menace from Cubist Hell. As he reached the top of the stairs, the big oaken doors swung open automatically. Which, given his high tech background ought not to have bothered him a bit. Apart from the obviously simple hinges and nothing mechanical or hydraulic attached to the door to open it.

  "At least there was no spine chilling screech." Good muttered.

  Ebsa choked and coughed. "Oh yeah, that would just be so appropriate . . . " He crossed the threshold into a warm beige sandstone lobby. A big beautiful polished mahogany desk and a young woman, a dramatic white streak through shiny black hair, but otherwise bright-eyed and smiling.

  Epic eyed her. "Wow! You match the outside much better than the inside."

  She snickered. "I know. I really wish they could do something about that spell."

  Ebsa blinked. "They can't? I mean, I thought Wolfson could do practically anything. I mean, that he wanted to do. Does he like the menacing aura?"

  "He thinks it's useful. Except when he thinks it's funny." She rolled her eyes. "So, how may I help you ladies and gentlemen?"

  "We were wondering if there was an actual codified list or book or whatever of laws for the non-embassy parts of Embassy?" Ebsa's gaze rose at a laugh from high up on a balcony. It was him. Xen Wolfson.

  "We keep writing things down, but someone always comes up with some new and mind-boggling way to make a nuisance of themselves . . . so it's an on-going project." The Wizard glanced over his shoulder. "You can see what we've got if you want. Come on up."

  Ebsa headed for the stairs, paused to look back at the kids.

  The black-and-white woman laughed. "You kids want a tour? It’s much more fun than legal stuff."

  Good actually looked a little wistful, but he turned to the stairs. Ebsa trotted up them on his heels. To a small workroom. Neat stacks of paper all over a table.

  "Please keep them in order?" Wolfson sounded resigned. "Or at least no worse than it is now?"

  Good edged up to the table and picked up a sheet. "Half of them are hand written?"

  "Well, maybe a quarter. We have a tendency to write notes in the field, because of odd electrical effects we've found . . . in some embassies." Wolfson flashed a brief grin. "The Earth is worse than the Empire, but they both like to, umm, copy, infect, or fry our gadgets. So we make notes and mostly type them up and turn them into reports with recommendations for new regulations."

  He eyed Ebsa. "So, you're the Hero of Dystopia."

  Ebsa wrinkled his nose. "Paer did nearly as much as I did. And . . . have I mentioned how delighted we were to be rescued?"

  "Yes. Glad to do it. I was horrified when that blast of hot air hit. Thought I'd lost a good friend, not to mention a hundred scientists."

  Ebsa nodded. "We were a bit horrified ourselves. I'm not sure that that mechanical gate closer is a good idea."

  "Yes. Q's working on a way to seal a gate without collapsing it. But putting it in a stone room still seems to be the best way."

  Ebsa nodded. "You just have to figure out which side gets the keys to the doors."

  A quick flash of teeth. So that's why all the fast grins from the actors playing "Endi Dewulfe" in the movies.

  "Oh surely there aren't multiple movies."

  "Five so far." Ebsa tightened up his shields. "Your supposed infiltration of Earth . . . may have already been released. I'll have to check."

  The wizard snorted. "I should never have chatted with that script writer. Not that he believed a word I said."

  Ebsa grinned. "I doubt the script will bear much resemblance to what you told him. Nor what really happened. From comments about the other vids, from the people who were there, the script writers must have both faulty memories and no respect for history or facts."

  "Bad as news reporters." Xen looked over at Good, who had seated himself and started reading. "Directorate?"

  "Ambassador Ashe's oldest son, just got his pre-law degree and applied for law school." Ebsa shrugged. "Sounds horrible, but I suppose we do need lawyers."

  Wolfson shook his head. "I tried to go with 'Use some common sense, respect other people, and mind your manners,' but everyone says we need a lot more details and minutiae."

  "Pity. That pretty much covers it."

  "Yeah. This place has grown. Next thing you know we'll be holding elections and raising taxes. Well, not that. Just charging for gates and corridors brings in all the money we need."

  "I hadn't thought about city services. Police, firemen, ambulance . . . water, sewer . . . schools. Every embassy just deals with it themselves."

  "Or we jump in and fix it on a problem-by-problem fashion." Xen crossed his arms. "Damn. I hadn't thought about house fires. We've sold land for builders, have houses going up . . . I wonder what they're doing for a water supply?"

  Wolfson glanced out the door at the sound of many feet.

  The receptionist, with the kids. "And this is HIM. Yes, Xen Wolfson, also known as Endi Dewulfe."

  Wolfson started laughing. "Giving tours, Dagger?"

  "You better believe it. I'm bored."

  The kids were gawping at Wolfson. They'd added the Ambassadorial pair, with governess and guard bringing up the rear.

  Epic's older sister leaned toward the Ambassador's older daughter. "He's almost as cute as the actor!" If that was supposed to be a whisper it carried remarkably well.

  That girl nodded her head. "Iss Dacca is so sexy!"

  Wolfson snorted. "I need to meet this Iss Dacca and thank him profusely for diverting so many women from me."

  "Now, next on the tour is THE BRIDGE!" The receptionist—Dagger?—made her voice drop dramatically.

  Epic's sister's eyes brightened. "Oh yes! I want my picture taken right where Rael was!"

  Wolfson pinched the bridge of his nose as the kids followed Dagger. "I hadn't realized I was a tourist attraction. And just wait till Rael finds out she's still a famous statue."

  "She'll just giggle and leave everyone wondering how she really feels."

  That raised his eyebrows. "Know her, do you?"

  "Yeah. I'm from Montevideo. She sort of mentored me through my teenage idiocy when she was down there finishing up her rehab, after the assassination attempt."

  One! Am I chatting with Xen Wolfson?

  "I really ought to commission a full sized bronze statue. Maybe with a donation box 'All funds go toward Rael's rehab after her next disaster.' But I'm not suicidal."

  "And the government covers everything. And really, I think the time she spent in Montevideo helped her get back in touch with her family."

  "Yeah, I'll bet. Being best enemies, I've never met her family."

  So then Ebsa was somehow pulling out his comp and showing the Master of the Multiverse a bunch of pictures from home . . .

  Until his comm beeped. "There's a shipment . . . "

  "My plates!" Ebsa bolted for the stairs and hustled back to the embassy.

  Where Ra'd, all fancied up in the brown-with-khaki accents dress uniform of the External Relations Directorate, was examining a little plate. With a golden unicorn, as advertised, rearing over excessively ornate lettering.

  "Oh, that's perfect." Ebsa introduced himself to the relieved driver, and helped unload the rest of the boxes.

  "Everyone wants local souv
enirs, not generic Empire plates. I need all the warehouse space, so," Mike shrugged. "I put in some extras."

  "I may need them. In fact I ordered paper plates for when I run out."

  Mike laughed. "Yeah, you never know with these country fairs. You'll either have too much or too little." He pulled his comp out. "If you need anything else, call these guys, they rent equipment—tables, chairs, bunting, tents, and sunscreens . . . "

  "Décor." Ebsa slapped his forehead. "I'll need to decorate." He copied the comm number.

  "Tell 'em Mike sent you, and that I can deliver anything you need." He departed cheerfully, leaving Ebsa staring at a pile of boxes.

  "Where the heck do I put these things for the next . . . nine days?"

  Ra'd grinned and pulled two pencils out of his shirt pocket. "Take these. Nighthawk was showing off."

  Ebsa eyed the pencils, held together by a rubber band. He pulled off the rubber band and the pencils still stuck together. "Window dressing so no one wonders why they're stuck?" he pulled them apart to show the bronze inside of a dimensional bubble. "Perfect."

  He started shoving the cartons in . . . an interesting exercise as they resisted until they were halfway, then got sucked in. Very weird. But it gulped down box after box with no sign of being full.

  Ra'd laughed at him, and bent to put the plate he was holding back into the opened box . . . stopped and frowned at something behind Ebsa.

  Ebsa turned to find Master Chef Unsa bearing down on him, staff in tow.

  "Are those the plates Madam Xaum had you order?"

  "Yes, I . . . "

  "Excellent. Boys, take them to the kitchen."

  Two boxes left on the pavement, the open one Ra'd had been inspecting and the one it was sitting on. Ebsa closed the pencils and put them casually in his pocket. "One for me, one for you?"

  Ra'd blinked and settled back on his heels. Held out the plate to the Master Chef. "Very nice. Don't you think?"

  "Indeed." Unsa snatched it, inspected it and nodded his approval.

  "I'll show this to Madam." He bared his teeth in a non-smile. "I told the ambassador I refused to work with you and he laughed. 'Then you'll get shown up in public for your pride.' He said.” Unsa leaned in close and growled. “You can just give up any dreams of replacing me. That’s not going to happen. Boys, take the boxes."