Guest Night on Union Station (21 page)

“Go ahead and give him something to drink,” the Cayl told Joe.

The owner of Mac’s Bones took the drip pan from under the tap and placed it in front of Beowulf, who lapped up the beer greedily.

“I’m so sorry, Emperor,” Kelly said in distress. “He’s never stolen food right out of anybody’s hands before.”

“That’s right,” Paul added. “He usually relies on bumping into elbows to make the food fall off of people’s plates.”

Brynt looked down at the remaining half of his hardtack baton and sighed. “I should be apologizing to you. I didn’t mean to imply that you did a bad job raising him. My own Gurf once stole the centerpiece from a banquet while we were all looking up to toast the universe. By the time I caught him, he had swallowed half of it down, bones and all.”

“Did you punish him?” Joe asked.

“Indigestion punished him. The poor hound was so sick that he wouldn’t even eat table scraps for a week.”

Beowulf finished lapping up the beer and decided to gamble on coming out from hiding behind Kelly. He put on his most contrite look, kept his head low, and gave his tail an experimental wag. The emperor took Beowulf’s massive head in his hands and drew it up near his face. Then he said, “Bad dog,” and nipped Beowulf on the muzzle.

The Huravian hound yelped in surprise and sprinted for the ice harvester. He’d never been so embarrassed in his life. The Cayl gave Joe an apologetic shrug.

“He had it coming,” Joe agreed.

After she recovered from the unexpected show of imperial dominance, Kelly asked, “What happened at the open house vote?”

“The majority of the emissaries and lesser representatives all voted to join,” Brynt replied. “The Lood emissary voted against, and of course, the other species of their faction followed suit. Z’bath made an amusing speech, claiming that his son had been attacked on the station by a Teragram sorceress in human form. Of course nobody took him seriously.”

Kelly groaned audibly. “Libby told me that if the vote was in favor, I have to chair a final planning meeting between the emissaries and the local ambassadors who hosted them.”

“Most of the open house guests have already departed through the temporary tunnel and the rest will be gone by tomorrow,” Jeeves said. Everybody turned to look at the hovering floater. “Before your meeting, we’ll deliver a detailed plan for the construction of permanent tunnel connections to the Cayl region of space, a timetable for getting the individual systems hooked up, and a schedule for moving several stations to the region.”

“You’re going to move whole Stryx stations to Cayl space?” Kelly asked.

“Building a new station takes forever in biological terms, and they’re needed to keep the permanent tunnel hubs open,” Jeeves explained. “It’s all handled by the first-generation Stryx, I’m barely even in the loop, but Gryph asked me to attend your meeting tomorrow in order to manage expectations.”

“Tomorrow? I thought you just said something about a detailed plan?”

“Gryph prepared it as soon as the vote was taken,” Jeeves replied. “And Stryx Vrine asked me to relay a message from your wife, Emperor. Do you want to hear it now?”

“Does it have to do with the children?” Brynt asked.

“Yes.”

“Is somebody hurt, or is she just worried about their futures.”

“I would say worried about your oldest son’s future.”

“Then it can wait until after the party.”

“Celery,” Czeros declared. He began to laugh hysterically and then passed out in a heap.

Twenty One

“Thank you all for coming and, um, not spitting.” It wasn’t how Kelly had intended to open the meeting, but given the way that some of the ambassadors and emissaries were glaring at each other, and the trail of green goo trickling from the mouth opening of the Lood’s golden mask, the line just popped into her head. “Stryx Jeeves is here to answer any questions you may have about the proposed infrastructure, and Stryx Gryph will make himself heard if necessary.”

“Never mind all of that,” Aluria said impatiently, glaring at the emissaries. “Did you believe you could demand a higher price by voting to join?”

“You couldn’t pay me to join your tunnel network,” the Lood replied haughtily, and then pointed at the Cayl Emperor. “I’m only here because our excursion ships have all departed and he’s my ride home.”

“How many times have I told you not to point?” Brynt growled at Z’bath.

The Tzvim emissary rose from her seat and went to crouch behind the chairs of the Nangor and the Shuga. The three emissaries put their heads together and held a whispered consultation.

“I don’t think we’re here for negotiations,” Kelly said uncertainly. “My understanding is that the species present will be seeing a lot of each other in the future, and this planning session is to help us coordinate the timetable involved.”

“Life is negotiations,” the Grenouthian ambassador stated.

“Am I missing something?” Kelly subvoced to Libby. “The vote is over, right? I even made Paul stay up late reading Gryph’s infrastructure plan so he could give me an executive summary.”

“Some of your colleagues are still hoping to prevent the expansion of the tunnel network for business reasons,” Libby replied in Kelly’s ear.

“I can see that, but why do they think they can succeed?” Kelly subvoced back. “Will you let them change their votes if they get a big enough bribe?”

“The voting is over, but there are other things they can do.”

The three emissaries finally broke their huddle and the Tzvim returned to her seat.

“How much?” Timba asked. He addressed his question to Crute, who happened to be sitting directly across the table from the Nangor. The Dollnick held up two fingers in reply. “And how much from the others?”

“Don’t try to be funny,” Ortha said. “We’ve met over this several times and that’s our best offer. It’s a lot of cash for you in return for not doing anything.”

“And what do you offer, Stryx?” Timba inquired, turning towards Jeeves.

“Membership in the tunnel network comes with costs and benefits, as you know,” Jeeves replied. “If you’ll pull up Exhibit F in the infrastructure plan, I can explain how we plan to position the primary tunnel hubs, given the highly distributed nature of influence in your space.”

“I’m not talking about that, Stryx,” the Nangor said. “I meant, what will you give us four, well, us three, for going along with your plan?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow you,” Jeeves said disingenuously.

“The Dollnicks have come together with the Vergallians, Grenouthians and Hortens to offer us double their GSP to turn down your deal. Clearly that changes our negotiating position.”

“What’s a GSP?” Kelly subvoced to Libby.

“Gross Species Product,” Libby replied. The Grenouthian hopped over to the Dollnick and began whispering urgently, while Aluria leaned in from the other side.

“Nobody offered anybody two times their GSP,” Crute said after the brief consultation. “The offer was two billion creds, which I understand will make the four of you some of the richest individuals in the former Cayl Empire.”

“That’s only because of the fifty-percent tax the Cayl have been assessing on our most successful entrepreneurs each year, a thinly disguised employment program for the poor,” Tarngol replied. “Once we’re free from the Cayl, those of us with the talent and the work ethic to get ahead will be able to accumulate as much wealth as we desire.”

“Putting aside the nonsensical nature of your demands, don’t you think you’re being extraordinarily greedy?” Aluria inquired in a chilling tone. “After all, we are talking about bribes here. If I choose to have a holo-recording of this meeting sent to your respective governments…”

“All the more reason your offer is insufficient,” the Tzvim countered. “If we have to start spreading the money around back home, it’s hardly worth the bother.”

“Two billion is appreciably more than the Stryx are offering,” Ortha pointed out.

All of the diplomats turned again to regard Jeeves, who floated quietly next to Kelly.

“Is it my turn again already?” the young Stryx asked. “I bid two yellows.”

“Yellow stars?” the Nangor said hopefully. “With habitable planets?”

“I think he means poker chips,” Kelly said. The Stryx bobbed in agreement.

“What’s a yellow worth?” the Nangor asked.

“Ten millicreds,” Kelly replied, bracing herself for the inevitable explosion.

“So, this whole open house had been a conspiracy to do us out of our just rewards,” Geed declared. “First you humiliated me by interfering with my private business transactions, and now you make me an offer that wouldn’t open the pay toilet door on a Wanderer ship. I think I’ve seen enough!” The Tzvim rose from the table, turned her armored back to the gathered diplomats, and began to stalk away. But she seemed to run out of steam just a few steps from the table.

“Going somewhere?” the Lood inquired cruelly.

“Looks like somebody just realized she doesn’t have a ride home,” the Grenouthian ambassador piled on.

“Alright, we’ll take the two billion creds,” the Nangor hissed.

“I’m afraid that offer has sailed,” Crute said mildly. “Allow me to confer with my colleagues.”

“Fool!” Tarngol declared, rounding on Timba. “You should have taken the four-armed freak’s offer while it was good.”

“Who are you calling a four-armed freak?” Timba trumpeted, making four fists. The Lood snickered as Brynt pushed between the feuding emissaries, bringing the brawl to a conclusion before it could begin.

“You’ve embarrassed me in front of Ambassador McAllister and the Stryx for the last time,” the Cayl thundered. “The four of you are fired, and you can figure out how to get home by yourselves.”

“You can’t fire us,” Geed retorted. “You’re giving up the empire.”

“Well, I’m taking it back,” Brynt said, and then burst out in hearty laughter. “This whole open house affair was just a ploy to get me to keep the Cayl Empire together, wasn’t it, Mr. Jeeves?”

“My elders do seem convinced that your species is the right match for the job,” the Stryx replied. “After all, you’ve been doing it for seven million years, give or take.”

“That’s it? We don’t have to deal with these emissaries again?” Aluria asked.

“They aren’t emissaries anymore,” Kelly said. “They’ve been fired.”

The four Union Station ambassadors who had hosted the emissaries didn’t wait around to hear how things would turn out. The former emissaries slunk out on their heels, leaving Kelly alone with the Cayl emperor and Jeeves.

“I could be angry over your interfering in my plans, Mr. Jeeves,” Brynt said. “But my wife has changed her mind about provoking my mother into replacing me, and I owe you for bringing our colonists back into communication. I believe I will contract their services in helping to man our fleet and garrisons. It will give us a reason to reunite, and perhaps it’s time we expanded.”

“That’s the spirit,” the young Stryx encouraged the emperor. “Conquer at a loss and make it up in volume.”

The EarthCent ambassador’s implant pinged with a priority-ten story from the Galactic Free Press, their highest level alert. It was the first time in the three years she had been a subscriber that Kelly had received a top priority notification.

“The Galactic Free Press just released a breaking story that won’t push to my heads-up display,” Kelly said to Jeeves. Something about the Stryx’s lack of surprise made her suspicious. “Are you interfering with my reception?”

“I thought you’d like to see it in high resolution,” Jeeves replied, projecting an image of the special edition on the wall.

“Breaking News,” Kelly read out loud, “Alien Bites Dog.” The accompanying photo showed Brynt holding Beowulf’s head and nipping the dog on his muzzle. Below the full color image, credited to Bob Steelforth, the subtitle read, “Cayl Emperor Decides to Keep Empire. Developing Story.”

“That’s a great picture of me with your dog,” Brynt said to the EarthCent ambassador. “Do you think your friend who owns the news business could get me a copy?”

“I’m so sorry,” Kelly replied, mistaking the Cayl’s response for sarcasm. “There’s a human tradition of trying to write shocking headlines from the days when competing newspapers were sold by street-corner hawkers. I don’t know how they could have made your decision about preserving the empire a subtitle. I don’t even know how they could have found out about it already.”

“The Grenouthians began blaring the story a moment after their ambassador left the room,” Jeeves said. “Chastity always has somebody monitoring the bunny feed for breaking news, but the Galactic Free Press scooped them with the dog headline. I’m thinking of getting a subscription myself.”

“I should go and explain the situation to my Cayl brothers,” Brynt said. He came around the table and surprised both Kelly and Jeeves with a hug. “I’m going to miss staying with your family and Beowulf, but it seems that duty requires I prepare for the journey home.”

“Are you really going to leave the emissaries behind?” Kelly asked.

“I’d like to, but it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of you. Our empire doesn’t produce much in the way of diplomats as their services are rarely needed, but I hadn’t realized just how bad it’s gotten. I should also point out that the citizens who came for the open house were mainly here to dump wealth before the annual tax census. Not exactly the cream of the crop.”

“I hope you can stop back home and say goodbye to the children,” Kelly said.

“Of course,” Brynt reassured her. “I haven’t even sent the recall for my shuttle yet. Besides, your husband promised me a lesson on how to brew beer.”

……

Back in the ice harvester, Samuel finished filling a large bowl of beer from the current keg on tap. He tiptoed upstairs, checked with Beowulf that the coast was clear, and then headed down the hall to his room.

“Remember, don’t let anybody in,” the boy instructed the dog as he placed the bowl of beer on the floor. “If Mom comes back and wants to check on me, pretend to have fallen asleep in the doorway.”

Beowulf nodded and began lapping up the beer.

Samuel went into his room, rummaged under the bed for the modified suit he’d smuggled home from the Physics Ride, and rapidly put it on over his pajamas. If Jeeves had come through, Ailia was donning a similar suit in the palace on her far-away homeworld. Next, he took his robot souvenir from Libbyland off of the shelf and placed it on the floor facing the largest open area. Finally, he retrieved the control tablet and tapped in the new sequence of symbols Jeeves had shown him. The eyes of the robot glowed green as it established a link with its quantum-coupled mate.

“Samuel? Are you there?” Ailia asked in Vergallian.

“I’m here, but I can’t see you,” the boy replied in disappointment. “I guess Jeeves couldn’t make the suits work.”

“I can’t put the leggings on over my dress and I didn’t want to call my lady-in-waiting to help me take it off, so you’ll have to be patient. You wouldn’t believe how complicated my clothes are.”

“Are you ready yet?” Samuel asked ten seconds later.

“I’ll tell you when I am,” Ailia replied. “What else is new there?”

“Mist and Gwendolyn are going back to the Gem homeworld so that Mist can sleep until they grow some guy clones for her to date,” the boy recounted. “We have the emperor of the Cayl Empire staying with us, and he’s really neat, except he makes me eat vegetables. And Dorothy is still dating that boy she found at work.”

“Is he nice?” Ailia asked. “Never mind. Of course he’s nice or she wouldn’t be going out with him.”

“He’s okay I guess. Are you ready yet? Don’t forget the gloves.”

“Almost,” Ailia replied. There was a pause. “I think I’m ready now. What do I do?”

“Are you holding your control tab?”

“I just picked it up.”

“Press the round thing with the weird shape on it, then the thing that looks like a star with planets, then there should be something that looks like me.”

“I did,” the girl said a few seconds later. “It’s asking for a password.”

“Jeeves,” the boy told her.

“Oh!” Ailia exclaimed, as a full-size hologram of Samuel wearing the Physics Ride suit appeared before her. “Are you seeing me?”

Samuel stepped towards the hologram of Ailia that had appeared in his own room and gave it an experimental poke in the shoulder with his finger.

Ailia gasped, and her head swiveled around as if she expected to see somebody else in the room. “Did you do that?”

“Sure. That’s what the suits are for. It wouldn’t work otherwise.”

Ailia stepped even closer to Samuel’s hologram, put her left hand on its right shoulder, and held out her right hand for him to grasp in the classic Vergallian ballroom pose. Samuel carefully put an arm around the waist of the young queen’s hologram and took her hand.