History Night on Union Station

Book Twenty of EarthCent Ambassador

Copyright 2022 by E. M. Foner

One

“In conclusion, it is the view of Union Station embassy that EarthCent needs an on-the-job training system for diplomatic staff, in part to prepare replacements for the current generation of ambassadors as we retire, but also to provide visiting positions for graduates from the Human Empire’s School of Government so they don’t become disillusioned with their career choice during the multi-generational start-up phase.”

“You asked me to remind you to include a request for an official historian,” Libby said when Ambassador McAllister finished speaking. “Do you want to add a sentence before I send off your weekly report?”

Kelly shook her head as if the station librarian were a person in the room as opposed to a Stryx artificial intelligence whose presence was distributed through Union Station and likely far beyond. “I can’t believe I forgot again. I even have it written down in my notebook. But adding another sentence now would defeat the whole point of reaching a conclusion.”

“If you say so. Will you start over again?”

“No,” Kelly decided after a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll bring it up separately when I talk to President Beyer. The good thing about history is that it’s not going anywhere. When Joe initially suggested to me that we appoint an official historian like some militaries on Earth used to do during wars, I was skeptical. But then I remembered that people who forget their mistakes are doomed to repeat them.”

“History written by an insider during the course of events has some advantages over forensic analysis,” Libby concurred. “Have you considered putting yourself forward?”

“With my memory?”

“Your issues with remembering minor details are limited to the short term and you’ve already laid a reasonable foundation for the work.”

Kelly gazed up at the ceiling for a moment, embarrassed to admit that she couldn’t remember ever having done such a thing. Then it clicked. “You’re talking about my EarthCent for Humans manuscript that Walter rejected for publication because I didn’t follow the series guidelines? That must have been a decade ago and it wasn’t a serious history. I was trying to write for a wide audience.”

“And you don’t believe history can be accessible to a wide audience?” The Stryx librarian allowed for a significant pause before continuing. “I recently saw an analysis showing that over thirty percent of the current entertainment content on the tunnel network is based on historical events.”

“Are you counting sports and news as entertainment?” Kelly asked. “Thirty percent seems awfully high.”

“The analysis is Flower’s, not mine, and it included all of the broadcast, streaming, and recorded content she could access.”

“Samuel told me that Flower is headhunting new employees at all of the cons she hosts, so maybe she’s preparing to expand her entertainment business beyond anime production. But surely you aren’t suggesting that we cater to the broad market with a history of EarthCent. I was thinking more along the lines of serious textbooks.”

“You mean, boring.”

“I don’t think that’s what I mean,” Kelly said, becoming suspicious that the Stryx librarian was employing the Socratic method for a reason. “Maybe EarthCent should be doing more to make people aware of our achievements but we still need texts to help train junior diplomats. They’re bound to include far more procedural detail than casual readers would be willing to read.”

“Aabina is back from the meeting next door and asked me if you’re available,” Libby announced, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

“Of course I’m available, she doesn’t have to ask.” The EarthCent ambassador moved her purse from the surface of the display desk back into the deep drawer so it wouldn’t look like she had been about to leave. Then she got up and went to the door where she waved open the security lock that she always engaged while making her weekly reports.

“Good afternoon, Ambassador,” Aabina said as she entered. “I hope you weren’t on your way home.”

Kelly delayed replying until she turned back to her desk, hoping the lie wouldn’t be as easy to detect when the Vergallian princess was unable to see her face. “Not for another half-hour. How did the meeting go?”

“Whoever came up with the name for the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities wasn’t exaggerating,” Aabina said. “The CoSHC members take their sovereignty seriously, at least when it comes to listening to advice. It’s ironic how they willingly embrace the laws and culture of whichever advanced species is administrating the open world where the community is located but they limit their cooperation with each other to strictly business.”

“You know our people worry about anything that could lead to paying taxes,” the EarthCent ambassador said. “And now that the open world communities are all officially members of the Human Empire, they can claim there’s no need for CoSHC to develop beyond a business organization. We run hot and cold as a species on the whole concept of leaders. When times are bad, humans look for somebody to take responsibility. When times are good, we want government out of our hair.”

“It just seems like a wasted opportunity,” Aabina said. “The only thing the delegates could agree on was hosting a job fair for the members, and even there, they expect Associate Ambassador Cohan to do everything.”

“I hope Daniel told them where they can stick that idea.”

“He agreed, and I offered to help, pending your approval. It wouldn’t be fair to make Donna do all of the administrative work.”

“What happened to Jill?” Kelly asked. “I thought she was working out fine. I was even thinking of suggesting her for an embassy manager slot when she was ready to move up.”

“She gave her notice and asked Daniel if she could leave next week when the representative from Timble heads back.”

“Isn’t Timble the Grenouthian orbital where the human population all works in immersive productions? And now you’re telling me that their representative poached her out from under Daniel’s nose to thank him for providing shared workspace on Union Station?” Kelly shook her head in disgust. “I understand that good employees are hard to find, but that would be like me visiting the president’s office on Earth and hiring away Hildy Grueun.”

“Judging by the new ring on Jill’s finger, I think there was a proposal involved, though you’re right that some employers will go to great lengths to find qualified help,” Aabina said.

“Well, if she’s getting married, I suppose that’s acceptable. You’re welcome to help Daniel, and he should take advantage of the job fair to find himself a new office manager. Maybe he should hire a personal assistant as well to have a backup.”

“The Alt’s contract queen on Union Station is officially asking if you are available for a brief meeting,” Libby informed them. “She can be here in five minutes.”

“Affie?” Kelly replied reflexively. “Yes, I’ll wait.” She turned back to her special assistant. “I included your suggestion for EarthCent to create an on-the-job training program and prepare to foster graduates from the Human Empire’s School of Government. I was going to request that we appoint an official historian as well, but it slipped my mind.”

“An official historian is an excellent idea. Every queen has at least one historian on the royal staff, often several. My mother employs three historians to cover diplomacy, economics, and culture.”

“Are you sure she’s not just being nice by providing gainful employment for highly trained academics who couldn’t find teaching positions?”

“Every queen’s court is expected to do that,” Aabina said with a laugh. “Do you want help writing a formal proposal for EarthCent?”

“After what you just told me, I’m thinking more along the lines of a help-wanted ad,” Kelly said. “With the All Species Cookbook money from the pop-up-ad edition coming in, it might make more sense for me to hire a historian on my own and provide EarthCent with a fait accompli. I’ve read plenty of history, if you include historical fiction, but I don’t know the first thing about hiring a historian to document the present and the recent past for posterity. Did you have any personal contact with the historians your mother employed?”

Aabina nodded. “I know all three of them quite well. They insisted on interviewing me on a regular basis due to my place in the royal succession. I barely got out of the palace for a walk the last time I visited home.”

“Now I feel guilty about only giving you two weeks of vacation. You should have told me it wasn’t enough.”

“Two years wouldn’t be enough with those three. Historians will drain you dry if you let them—they want to know everything. And official historians are usually tasked with writing a secret history for the royal family along with the public history for publication.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kelly admitted. “Maybe I’ll run the whole thing by Clive first. I suppose it’s possible that EarthCent Intelligence already has an official historian on staff and it’s never come up.”

Aabina hesitated for a moment. “You know I taught a course about Vergallian royal training as adjunct faculty at the Open University last year. They just asked me about teaching a seminar on royal government for one of their satellite campuses.”

“That’s wonderful, Aabina. I feel guilty that I haven’t suggested you to Samuel as faculty but I was afraid that you’d leave me for Flower.” Kelly laughed at herself. “It’s funny how possessive I’ve become.”

“The seminar is for the Human Empire’s new School of Government through the Open University extension campus on Flower if they can’t find another Vergallian,” Aabina said. “They’re only a few months away from opening now. My royal training in compartmentalization will keep me from accidentally sharing your confidential information, but I’m not sure about the visuals of an EarthCent embassy employee teaching there.”

“Completely remote?” Kelly asked, crossing her fingers behind her back.

“Flower has an unlimited Stryxnet connection and she’s adopted Human Standard Time so it’s the ideal setup. I can conduct a seminar from my office here in the embassy using the holo-conferencing system.”

“I don’t see any problem. It could even turn into a plus when we extend invitations for visiting positions at EarthCent embassies for the graduates. Your evaluations of students would carry great weight.”

“I’ll have to talk it over with my mother first,” Aabina said. “She has the final say on any jobs I accept since my first duty is to our world.”

“Of course,” Kelly said. “I wonder what Affie wants? I still can’t get over how she’s changed since your mother tricked her into becoming the Union Station contract queen for the Alts. I know she went through a version of the same royal training that you did, but I’ll always remember her hanging out with my daughter and Flazint, the three of them behaving like teenagers.”

“I brought her in as a guest lecturer last semester and it turns out that royal training on Fleet worlds has diverged significantly from the Empire tradition,” Aabina said. “Perhaps she has another back-channel request from the Alts on Earth Two that they didn’t want to bring up directly with the Human settlers.”

“It’s an awkward situation for the Alts. They made their deal to share Earth Two with Samuel, but the Human Empire remains more of a legal convenience than a true governing entity. Samuel and Vivian don’t have any control over the settlers, and they only just started accepting applications for their school of government launch.”

“Affie is entering the embassy,” Libby announced, and Aabina bounced up from her seat to wave open the door of Kelly’s office.

“Ambassador McAllister, Aabina,” Affie greeted them formally as she entered. “I’m sorry for coming on a Friday afternoon when I know you must be heading home but I thought you needed to see this as soon as possible.” She extended a pair of sticks to Kelly.

“Is this a Horten holographic scroll?” the ambassador asked, pulling the sticks apart. “Oh, it’s legalese,” she said, her face falling.

“From the tunnel network treaty,” Affie said. “It’s been updated again. One of the Alts I represent brought this to my attention.”

“What section?” Aabina asked as Kelly began skimming the text.

“The Thousand Cycle option. Are you familiar with the language?”

Aabina nodded. “I recently heard a visiting Verlock historian who specializes in the tunnel network treaty discussing it at an Open University faculty breakfast. He said that the Thousand Cycle option didn’t exist in the treaty until the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities started growing explosively a few years back. The Stryx quietly updated the treaty so that CoSHC would have a path forward.”

“With a mentor,” Kelly said, looking up from the scroll. “If I’m reading this correctly, the Thousand Cycle option has been modified to allow an early exit, providing a number of benchmarks are attained.”

“It establishes a progress review once a decade on the Human calendar,” Affie confirmed.

“And if the benchmarks are met, the Stryx will allow the merger with EarthCent and grant humanity full tunnel network membership?” Kelly asked, her voice rising in excitement.

“Well over a century ahead of schedule. The Alt who brought this to my attention wanted to know if they should plan on the Human Empire successfully meeting the benchmarks. If that’s the case, they might be open to establishing full diplomatic relations with EarthCent earlier than planned, since many of the same people will be in place when the merger takes place.”

“This changes everything! See what you can make of the text,” the ambassador said, passing the scroll to Aabina. “My old eyes have problems with holographic print.”

“I asked the Alt if he wanted to meet you, but he said they would go through Human Empire channels when the time was right,” Affie continued. “Don’t forget that the Alts aren’t tunnel network members themselves.”

“Because they chose an arrangement with the Empire of a Hundred Worlds instead, which is why you have a job as a contract queen,” Kelly said. “Does the once-a-decade review kick in starting with the language change, or is the first review ten years after the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities accepted the Thousand Cycle Plan?”

“It’s pretty complicated,” Aabina said, looking up from the holographic scroll. “Did you read through the sub-clauses?”

“I only got as far as the checklists and I was skimming.”

“It looks to me like a gradual transition with increasing responsibilities. The requirement to open embassies comes after the first milestones are achieved, so the merger with EarthCent is near the beginning. The final set of milestones involves defense contributions, and that can be pushed off to the original deadline.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Kelly said. “The cost of building and maintaining warships is the prime reason the CoSHC representatives who voted on adoption weren’t interested in applying for full tunnel network membership right away. Can I keep the scroll?” she asked Affie.

The Vergallian princess shrugged. “You’re welcome to it, but the new version of the tunnel network treaty has been pushed out everywhere, so it’s also on your display desk, and you can get it through your tab. I only loaded it onto the scroll to save time. I have to get back to the embassy because I promised Ambassador Aleeytis to host a luncheon for her. Tell Dorothy I’m sorry I couldn’t get in to the office at all this week. I can see myself out.”

“Libby,” Kelly said the moment the door closed behind the Alt’s contract queen. “Can you tell me when the tunnel network treaty was updated?”

“As a living treaty, it’s updated on an ongoing basis,” the Stryx librarian replied.

“You know what I mean.”

“The Thousand Cycle option was modified very recently.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to tell us?”

“All terms and conditions of the treaty are subject to change at any time,” Libby said. “We only inform the signers of changes that entail an obligation on their part.”

“But we have to—” Kelly cut herself off in mid-sentence. “Okay, we aren’t required to take action, but it’s pretty clear we’ll want to, so why go to the bother of making the change when there was a chance we’d never notice?”

“Samuel is planning to hire a Verlock tunnel network treaty expert for the School of Government’s first-semester seminar,” the Stryx station librarian said. “I’m confident it would have come to light by then.”

“Which only makes sense because establishing a system of training diplomats and administrators is one of the earliest milestones,” Aabina said, looking up from the scroll. “Does this mean that EarthCent’s civil service test will no longer be sufficient?”

“Current employees will be grandfathered, but EarthCent’s system of hiring has always depended on outside input, a process that will no longer be appropriate when the merged entity becomes a full tunnel network member.”

“Are you talking about the Verlock cram courses for people who want to take the test but aren’t quite ready?” Kelly asked.

“I think she’s referring to the Stryx input,” Aabina said. “It’s probably wise for the Human Empire to avoid being seen as totally dependent on the Stryx.”

“Does that mean you’ve taken back some of our, uh, perks?” Kelly asked. “Has the treaty been updated to close the loophole that allows an unaffiliated species to get a tunnel connection by declaring an open world and attracting at least twenty million human immigrants?”

“It’s been modified, but not eliminated,” Libby replied. “The new wording limits that particular technique to one instance per non-tunnel-network species.”

“I’ll have to make sure Affie tells the Fleet Vergallians since they’ve already used up their one,” Aabina said. “The Sharf are the only other species I’m aware of who are currently building a Human population on an open world for the express purpose of attracting a tunnel connection.”

“Can you tell us if there are others, Libby?” Kelly asked. “I’d hate to think that some unaffiliated species may have multiple planets stocking up on our people for the sake of getting a tunnel network connection. They won’t be happy to find they’re in a race.”

“I’m afraid that’s protected competitive information, but I’m sure EarthCent Intelligence keeps close enough track of your population flows to spot any such event. Perhaps that’s why Director Oxford just entered the embassy in such a hurry.”

“Clive is here?” Kelly stood reflexively, but Aabina beat her to the door by a half-dozen steps and waved it open just as the director of EarthCent Intelligence arrived, a pair of scroll sticks in one hand.

“Ambassador McAllister,” he greeted her formally, despite the fact that Samuel and Vivian’s marriage made them in-laws. “Sorry to come running in so late, but if you weren’t here, I would have tried you at home.”

“Is this about the treaty update?” Kelly asked.

“You knew? I just found out from Wrylenth, who in his typical Verlock thoroughness, decided to prepare an analysis of the changes before telling anybody. What do you make of it?”

“We’ll want to do it, of course, though ultimately the decision is up to the Human Empire, which means Samuel and CoSHC’s ad hoc committee.”

“According to Wrylenth, Daniel’s ad hoc committee for running the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities no longer has a say in the matter,” Clive said. “The decision is entirely up to Samuel.”

“But he just turned twenty-five!”

The director of EarthCent Intelligence shrugged. “Making the decision is one thing. Meeting the requirements will take a lot of buy-in from the CoSHC members and beyond.” He began to extend the scroll sticks to Kelly, who made an almost imperceptible nod towards Aabina, so Clive changed course halfway and handed the analysis to the Vergallian special assistant. “The meat is all buried in the subparagraphs, but in essence, the treaty lays out a number of confidence-building measures and proofs of—call it maturity—that the Human Empire has to accomplish before the merger with EarthCent will be allowed.”

“Can you give me any concrete examples?” the EarthCent ambassador asked.

“Wrylenth says that the Human Empire has to demonstrate that it is providing real direction to the population it represents,” Clive explained.

“But that’s as good as saying the deal is off.”

“They’ve got a decade to make it work, and CoSHC already meets some of the conditions.”

“But CoSHC isn’t—or is it?” Kelly asked. “Is Wrylenth suggesting that if the Human Empire displays some kind of authority over the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities the requirement would be met? Daniel would certainly go along with that.”

“Yes and no,” Clive said. “It’s not just about providing direction and control, it’s about interfacing with the other species, though not necessarily at the governmental level. The Human Empire needs to demonstrate that it can be a cooperative player in the tunnel network economy.”

“I can see the stress on commercial ventures,” Aabina said, looking up from the scroll again. “Not just agreements, but actually finding ways to do business on a cooperative basis.”

“Something tells me that my reading plans for the weekend just changed,” Kelly said mournfully. “And I’d been looking forward to another time through The Way We Live Now.”

Two

“What’s with the all-hands meeting?” Dorothy whispered to Dietro as she slipped into the seat next to him. “Is Affie coming?”

The Vergallian sales manager shook his head. “She’s tied up at the embassy again. Jeeves said something about replacing her with a Horten toy that teaches color matching.”

“Affie does more than just color schemes. She’s the queen of nonfunctional embellishments.”

Dietro looked up from the sales figures he was studying and turned to the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get all huffy just because the two of you moved in together,” Dorothy said. “It means exactly what I said. Affie has never been particularly interested in the fit or feel of our products, but she has a better sense of the whole aesthetic than any of us.”

“What are you two arguing about now?” Flazint asked as she took the seat next to Dorothy.

“We’re not arguing, and I love what you did with your hair vines. Is that a new trellis?”

“It’s an heirloom from Tzachan’s family,” the Frunge girl said, unable to hide her glee. “From his great-grandmother.”

“You finally met his family?” Dorothy asked.

“Even I know they aren’t at that stage yet,” Dietro said in exasperation. “How you ever qualified as a chaperone is beyond me.”

Shaina and Brinda, the sisters who contributed the ‘S’ and the ‘B’ to SBJ Fashions, entered the break room together. The elder sister headed straight for the coffee machine.

“No Affie?” Brinda asked Dietro as she took her seat near the end of the table.

“Tied up at the Vergallian embassy,” he repeated.

“As the sentient resources officer for SBJ Fashions, I should probably talk with her about changing her employment status,” Brinda said. “Affie hasn’t worked enough hours in any given cycle to qualify for pension points since she started substitute queening for the Alts. I could pay her more for the work she does if she became a consultant.”

“Hold on a second,” the voice of Jeeves came from the direction of the break room’s holographic presentation system. “If Affie wants to continue as a regular employee and not work enough hours to accrue any benefits, I see no reason to deny her.”

“Where are you, Jeeves?” Shaina asked as she took her seat with two mugs of coffee, one of which she pushed across the table to her younger sister. “Were you eavesdropping on us?”

“Just performing an equipment test on my way to the office,” the third founding partner of SBJ Fashions replied. “My overhearing Brinda’s comment was strictly coincidental.”

“Right,” Dorothy muttered and dropped her voice to a whisper that was unintelligible to even her nearest neighbors. “Can you hear me now?”

“Of course, I can hear you,” Jeeves said. “I’ll be there in a minute, and I expect a full report on the problems you claim to be having with Flower’s shipments.”

“That’s the first I’m hearing of production problems,” Dietro said. “If this is going to affect any of my accounts I should have been notified first. Delivering on promises is at the heart of customer retention.”

“You’ve been traveling, and they aren’t those kinds of problems,” Dorothy said. “It can wait until everybody is here.”

A ball of yarn sailed over the conference room table, unwinding as it went, and Flazint shot to her feet with a shriek. “That’s my finest iron ochre metallic yarn,” she cried, diving for where the ball was bouncing on the floor in entirely unpredictable directions. “Geb! Leave it!”

“He’s not a dog,” Baa said as she entered the conference room. “And you’re scaring him thrashing around on the floor like that.”

“It’s metallic yarn,” the Frunge girl complained. “It’s not like I can just rewind the ball and get rid of the kinks. I’ll have to heat-treat it.”

“You know you love any excuse to fire up the kiln,” the Terragram mage said, stooping to pick up what remained of the ball. “Here.”

Flazint started rewinding the yarn and almost immediately got into a tug of war with an invisible opponent. “Do something, Baa!”

The mage took a seat and patted her lap. A moment later she began stroking something invisible. The ghostly outline of a feline began to emerge, but then Jeeves floated in, and Geb disappeared with a hiss. A large tangle of ochre yarn hung from the young Stryx’s pincer.

“He got all the way to the lift tube this time,” Jeeves said, dropping the mess on the table in front of Flazint’s seat. “In accordance with our policy, I’m informing you all that this meeting is being recorded so that Affie will be able to catch up when she has the time. Shaina?”

The elder Hadad sister glanced over at Flazint, who had returned to her chair and set to work trying to untangle the metallic yarn. Shaina thought about saying something and then decided to just begin her presentation by activating the holographic projector.

“Who wants to guess what this graph represents?” she asked.

“Sales through the nanofabric franchises,” Dietro responded immediately.

“Right.” Shaina brought up a new hologram. “And this graph?”

“The number of franchisees,” Dorothy said, beating the Vergallian to the draw.

“And this?”

“Sales per franchisee,” Dietro said after a moment. “What’s the point of presenting graphs without text?”

“It’s an old brainstorming technique from Earth,” Shaina told him. “Those three were easy. Now comes the challenge.”

“It looks like a rollercoaster,” Dorothy said.

The Vergallian frowned. “Those peaks roughly correspond with my sales calls to boutiques on other Stryx stations. Is this a continuous representation of changes in fulfillment time?”

“Which brings us to the issue at hand. Our stock of standard sizes manufactured on the Chintoo orbital and hand-finished on Union Station by pieceworkers is starting to run short. We initially turned to Flower Textiles for help fulfilling the bespoke orders coming in from the nanofabric fittings, but an increasing percentage of those franchisees are taking advantage of our floor-planning financing to stock a rack of ready-to-wear as well.”

“What my sister is saying is that we’re outgrowing our supply chain,” Brinda said.

“You’re the sentient resources officer,” Jeeves said. “Hire more sentients.”

“That’s easier said than done. The seamstress skills we’re most in need of are developed over years. There are large numbers of needleworkers on Vergallian tech-ban worlds and in Old Way communities, but in both cases, their stance on technology rules them out as employees.”

“Why?” Dorothy asked. “They can use treadle sewing machines, like Flower’s workers, and a lot of the fancy work is literally hand stitching. Just don’t tell them that they’re working for a robot overlord.”

“Artificial intelligence is not synonymous with robots, and you’ve missed the point,” Jeeves said. “How do you think we can communicate orders to individuals who don’t have a network connection, not to mention the delivery delays incurred by wagon trains and stubborn draft animals?”

“I know you can send mail to Earth Two now. Samuel mentioned something about it.”

“Until Earth Two qualifies for the tunnel connection, the only guaranteed mail delivery is during Flower’s quarterly stops. He was talking about paper mail.”

Flazint froze for a moment, the ball of metallic yarn in one hand and a length of tangled skein in the other.

“Now look what you did,” Dorothy scolded the young Stryx. “You know we don’t use the P-word in the office.”

“You made me do it,” Jeeves said. “The point is that skilled seamstresses are most commonly found in communities that forgo modern technology, including remote communications.”

“Then how is Flower so successful at staffing? Dewey brought in the last order himself, and he said she has excess capacity.”

“Flower has started a new business ferrying Old Way communities to Earth Two and she offers them employment while they’re on board. If they join the ship immediately after Flower makes a drop, she has three months to exploit their labor. I understand that she’s had some success in convincing individuals to remain on board as well.”

“Poaching,” Brinda said. “If I had half of Flower’s recruiting skills I could cover our pieceworker shortage here on the station.”

“Unfortunately, you have double Flower’s ethics, which is what prevents you from stealing employees away from our competitors,” Jeeves told her.

“So the question is whether we want to increase our reliance on Flower by giving her stock orders in addition to the bespoke work,” Shaina said. “Keep in mind that we’re already using her package delivery service for most shipments to franchisees. She currently subcontracts that work to independent traders and has a deal with Tunnel Trips to use the lockboxes on their rental ships.”

“Flower’s people do high-quality work,” Dorothy said grudgingly. “The problem is that she doesn’t stop with filling the orders.”

“Explain,” Jeeves said.

“She keeps sending me unsolicited designs,” the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter complained. “If it was once a year, I could understand, but last week I received a courier package at home every day. And some of them included more than one dress.”

“So Flower is a little overenthusiastic,” Shaina said. “We all knew that already. Has she been taking liberties with the bespoke orders by introducing her idea of improvements?”

“No, and I realize it makes me sound like a jerk for complaining. But try to see things from my perspective. What if I come up with a new design and it turns out that I’ve unconsciously copied it from one of Flower’s ideas?”

“Don’t look at them,” Brinda suggested.

“The couriers have instructions to watch me open the packages to confirm the goods haven’t been damaged,” Dorothy said, making air quotes around the last word. “It would be bad enough if she sent one package a week with a dozen designs, but she’s spreading the deliveries out on purpose so I’m always thinking about them.”

“You have to admire that kind of high-pressure sales campaign,” Dietro said. “It means she’s committed.”

“Does Flower include any explanations?” Brinda asked. “Are they her designs, or are they from the people she’s hired?”

“A combination of the two,” Dorothy said with a sigh. “The truth is her designs are usually better than those of her employees. The Old Way seamstresses aren’t very daring. It’s not like I’m anti-AI or anything like that, but she only got into the business a few months ago and she’s already trying to tell me how to design clothes.”

“Flower is almost twenty-thousand years old and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised to hear that she was designing uniforms for her Dollnick crew and colonists back in the day,” Jeeves pointed out. “With or without their consent.”

“If Dollnick artificial intelligences could learn to do magic, we’d be all set,” Baa said. She stopped stroking Geb while she spoke and there was a loud complaint from the Chatulbezeq.

“Why do I have the feeling that was more than a random comment?” Jeeves asked, twirling his pincer in mock despair.

“I’m bored,” Baa said. “This is the first time in my very long life that I’ve gotten involved in assembly-line enchantments and I promise you it will be the last. Yes, the money is good, and yes, you cut me in for an ownership share. But if I have to enchant another pair of socks to provide snake bite protection in that stupid jungle LARPing scenario that’s all the rage, I’ll scream.”

“You aren’t going to stop doing Baa’s Bags, are you?” Flazint asked as she wound the last bit of free yarn onto the ball. “Coming up with puzzle clasps for purses is one of my favorite jobs.”

“Bags-of-holding are inherently interesting, and the power transfer from the station grid gives me a minor high, like Humans get from drinking coffee,” the Terragram mage said, gesturing towards Brinda and Shaina, who were both caffeine addicts. “My issue is with the low-level enchantments. If I set up in a mage tower on any of a million primitive worlds I’d have an apprentice to do the scut work.”

“Don’t look at me,” Brinda said after everybody turned in her direction. “I don’t know the first thing about hiring magical help. Are we talking about a young Terragram mage? Would the Stryx even allow another one of you on the station?”

“I can train any sentient with a modicum of magical ability to do basic spells that will hold up in the LARPing space,” Baa said.

“How about that Verlock my husband hired to exorcise Geb from his new office space?” Shaina asked.

“Sylinda and I are not simpatico and she’s already learned how to do everything wrong. If I’m going to take on an apprentice, I want raw aptitude, not parlor tricks.”

“Is there some kind of existing test or rating system we don’t know about?” Brinda asked. “I’m game to try to hire you an apprentice but I don’t know where to start.”

“I would suggest taking a few weeks of paid leave and volunteering to help your brother-in-law,” Jeeves said. “I understand that his office manager eloped with one of the visiting businessmen and he’s ironically short-handed while planning a job fair for CoSHC.”

“Why would you be willing to pay my sister to help my husband with—” Shaina broke off mid-sentence and began to laugh.

“You think if I help, Daniel will let SBJ Fashions participate in the job fair?” Brinda asked the young Stryx.

“One hand washes the other,” the young Stryx replied, and then turned to Baa. “How many Humans would you have to test to find one with apprentice potential?”

“Other than minor fortune-telling ability, I’ve never seen evidence of Humans possessing any magical aptitude outside of LARPing studios,” the Terragram mage replied. Then Geb purred something and Baa’s eyes widened. “You don’t say.”

“I thought the Verlocks were the only tunnel network species with any magical ability,” Dorothy said.

“They have the highest concentration of mage-level talent in the population at roughly one in a hundred thousand, but all biologicals have some potential,” Baa said. “According to Geb, there were no shortages of Human magicians in ancient Egypt, and he was always able to sniff one out in the millennia that followed.”

“Is he aware of any on the station right now?” Jeeves asked.

The Chatulbezeq purred.

“He wants to know what’s in it for him,” Baa said.

“Not my yarn,” Flazint said, hugging the ball to her chest.

“We’re giving him a free place to stay, and I’ve noticed that the amount of cream I purchase for the coffee station has quadrupled since Geb made his appearance,” Jeeves said. “I think it’s only fair that you handle any excess compensation yourself.”

The invisible cat hissed, and Baa sighed. “Geb doesn’t sense any good candidates on the station at the moment, but he says it’s much easier to tell when he can see them. I’ll find him a nice spot on the travel concourse to watch for new arrivals, and if nobody turns up, he can join our booth at the job fair.”

“And what about the seamstresses?” Dorothy asked. “Am I going to have to do all of the interviewing myself?”

“Come up with a sewing test to screen candidates that can be done in five minutes or less,” Brinda suggested. “The majority of our piece-workers have never been full-time seamstresses, and most of them got their start in professional sewing by taking in alteration work from Vergallian boutiques on the station. We’ve primarily found new workers through word-of-mouth, but we’re probably missing a large segment of the potential workforce, not to mention the transient crowd.”

“We may have to offer more than piecework rates if we want to convince seamstresses who are just passing through to stay on Union Station,” Shaina warned her. “At the least, some kind of housing subsidy, or maybe a dormitory for single workers.”

“Do you have any idea what that would cost?” Jeeves demanded. “Benefits of any kind go against the whole concept of piecework. It would be more efficient to put in the effort testing potential workers and then to hire them on salary with a trial period.”

“Piecework is traditional in the garment industry, and lots of our seamstresses need the flexibility,” Dorothy pointed out. “Some of our best stitchers only give us a few hours a week.”

“I’m not suggesting we alter any existing arrangements, but unless you want to give the work to Flower, we need more help. Come up with a basic sewing test for seamstresses that can be judged objectively, and for salary workers, that would have to include time trials.”

“Maybe we could have a contest,” Flazint suggested. “Humans like anything with a prize.”

“The prize is they get to work for us,” Jeeves told her.

“No, Flaz is right,” Dorothy said. “We should have real prizes. That would attract people who aren’t necessarily looking for work in the garment industry but might be interested when they find out how flexible we are.”

“How about for Baa’s apprentice search as well?” Shaina asked. “If we stage a contest for magical talent, we could leverage our marketing to Live Action Role Players. I bet we only need to announce it and then word-of-mouth will do the rest.”

“Forget marketing, we could make money on this,” Dietro declared. “I’ll sell the idea to the professional LARPing league as a new reality show and—Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing his thumb. “What was that?”

“Geb biting you,” Baa said. “Be thankful he didn’t materialize first. There will be no reality show to search for my apprentice, and I’m embarrassed to say that I agree with Jeeves on the subject of competitions and prizes to work for SBJ Fashions. Resorting to gimmicks to attract employees at a job fair would be analogous to launching a new fashion line with a fifty-percent-off sale. I’ve put too much effort into Baa’s Bags to let you cheapen the brand.”

There was a short silence, and then Shaina said, “I guess we did get a bit carried away there for a moment. Baa and Jeeves are right. We should approach the search for employees no differently than our marketing to attract franchisees. It’s not a numbers game—we’re looking for good fits who will stay with us for the long term and contribute to our reputation for quality and innovation.”

Dietro stood up, and for a moment Dorothy thought he was going to walk out in anger, but then she realized he just wanted to shelter his hands in his pockets before speaking. “I won’t argue with Baa, it’s her apprentice we’re talking about after all, but the idea is too good to ignore. Do I have your permission to talk with our contacts in the professional LARPing league about a magical talent search reality show with no relation to SBJ Fashions? It could be strictly for LARPing mages.”

“I don’t see why not,” Brinda said. “There’s nothing in our employee handbook preventing you.”

“Jeeves?” Shaina asked.

“As long as you do lunch on your own programmable cred,” the Stryx concurred. “Baa?”

“Twenty percent,” the Terragram mage said.

“What?” Dietro exploded. “You refuse to be involved but you want twenty percent of my end?”

“Just because it’s an inappropriate method to hire an apprentice doesn’t mean I’m not available to consult. You’re talking about a reality show and I’m the only available resource who can tell you how to make it realistic. I should be asking fifty percent.”

“Twenty-five,” Dietro replied hastily.

“Sold,” Baa said and exchanged a high-five with her invisible cat.

Three

“You’re keeping the doors from closing,” Fenna scolded Mike. “It’s not good for them.”

“The doors don’t care if they’re open or closed, and I want to see if anybody’s coming,” the young teen replied from where he was standing, half-in, half-out of the office. “Dad said a couple of sales engineers from Chianga are coming to meet clients this morning.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? I would have made tea.”

“They’re coming to use the display desks, and even I know that salespeople drink coffee,” Mike said. Then his whole body stiffened with anticipation like a Cayl hound and he stepped back and let the doors slide closed. “I’ll bet this is them coming now. Get ready.”

Fenna swiped the screen of the official registration tab to erase her doodling and unconsciously checked that the long coil of hair piled on her head was still in place. She pulled two bottles of Union Station Springs water out of the mini-fridge under the counter and added them to the wicker basket with the energy bars and fruit that was always on offer to visiting members from the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities.

“Do I look grown-up?” she asked Mike.

“You look way older than me,” he said with a scowl. “Remember. It’s my dad’s office so I’m in charge.”

“Of showing them how to use the display desks,” Fenna said. “He assigned me to register the visitors and help them get settled on the station if they’ve just arrived.”

“That’s only because you have experience working the Tunnel Trips rental kiosk in Mac’s Bones. You may know all about which hotels accept humans but I bet I know more about eating out.”

“Shush,” Fenna admonished as the doors slid open.

Two women entered the office and stopped just inside the door as if unsure they had the right place. Both were wearing business suits with an extra set of empty arms sewn to the sides and terminating in the pockets, a style which identified them as members of a business community from a Dollnick open world. They displayed professional smiles which barely slipped when they realized that the staff consisted of young teens.

 “Welcome to CoSHC,” Fenna greeted them. “Could I ask your names and member community?”

“Stella and Allison, from Elevators on Chianga,” the shorter of the two women replied. “We pinged yesterday and spoke with the office manager about the availability of display desks to use for a presentation. Did Jill have to run out for an errand?”

“I’m afraid that Jill is no longer with CoSHC as of last night, at least not on Union Station. We’re a bit short-handed at the moment but Mike can help you get set up with the display desks. Would you like a bottle of cold water or some fruit?”

“Water would be nice,” Allison said for the sake of not disappointing the eager hostess. She accepted a bottle and glanced around the large room. “Are the two offices occupied?”

“Associate Ambassador Cohan is usually here, but he had to go out for a site check,” Fenna said. “The other office is currently taken by a volunteer from the Union Station business community who is helping with the job fair.”

“My aunt Brinda,” Mike informed them. “She’s helping out until my dad finds a replacement for Jill, but she went with him to the Empire Convention Center.”

“We’re on school vacation,” Fenna added. “And I can answer any questions you have about Tunnel Trips rentals or staying on the station.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” Stella said. “I arrived in a rental three days ago and you checked me in, but you were wearing a jumpsuit and your hair was down. You probably didn’t recognize me today because I was dressed casual and my face was all puffy from Zero-G.”

“That happens to some people. Do you think I look older with my hair up?”

“Yes, you look very mature,” Stella said. “Is it normal for teenagers on this station to have two jobs, even on school vacation?”

“I live in Mac’s Bones where you returned the rental ship, and sometimes I fill in at the kiosk if Marilla needs a break. My dad is the main equity partner in Tunnel Trips. We just started working here this morning.”

“Do you know what happened to Jill?” Stella asked. “She seemed very knowledgeable about CoSHC.”

“Ambassador McAllister says that’s why she married the rep from Timble,” Mike said. “Did you bring a memory for the display desk?”

“Standard Dollnick holo-cards, of course. Jill assured us that the display desks support them.”

“Dad bought the desks from the Dollnicks so they better.” Mike led the women to the closest desk. “Most people use the Horten holo memories because they’re cheaper. Do you know how many chairs you’ll need?”

“An excellent question,” Stella said and pointed at her ear. Her lips didn’t move at all while she subvoced, a sure sign she had received an implant early. “Our clients just got out of a meeting with an engineering consulting consortium on the Drazen deck and there will only be two people coming. How long do you think it will take them to get here?”

“Will they run?” Mike asked.

The two sales engineers exchanged a look, and then Allison said, “I don’t think they’ll be in that much of a hurry, but we are offering them a discount while we’re visiting Union Station.”

“I guess around eight minutes,” he said, glancing at Fenna.

“Ten at the outside,” Fenna agreed. “Do you mind signing the guest register? There’s no charge or anything, but Associate Ambassador Cohan said we have to keep track or the member communities won’t ever agree to support the shared workspace.”

Allison accepted the tab, scrawled a signature, and passed the stylus to Stella. “Who pays for this office now?” she asked.

“I think it’s cookbook money,” Fenna said. “I could go next door and ask Grandma Kelly if you need to know for sure.”

“The All Species Cookbook,” Mike told the puzzled women. “It makes zillions.”

“Oh, they included some very good Dollnick-inspired recipes,” Allison said. “My brother bought one of the new copies with the pop-up ads and his children won’t stop playing with it.”

Stella made a show of not being sure where to insert the holo-card in the display desk and Mike happily took over. He brought the hologram to life and deftly navigated past the canned presentation to the wholesale pricing and commission structure.

“Wow,” he said. “Elevator containers pay much better than kitchen gadgets.”

“How did you—that data isn’t supposed to be visible,” Allison said, reflexively glancing at the door to make sure their clients hadn’t arrived. “Do you know how to hide it?”

“The display desks are all in super-user mode, I’ll change it to public,” Mike told her and accomplished the task with a few gestures in the control space. “There.”

“What was that about kitchen gadgets?” Stella asked. “I always assumed the markup was pretty big.”

“It is, but the selling prices are low so you have to move a gazillion of them.”

“His grandfather owns Kitchen Kitsch in the Shuk,” Fenna explained. “When Mike was little, he wanted to take over when he grew up.”

“Now I’m not sure what to do,” the young teen said seriously. “My parents want me to go to the Open University, but I want to become a professional Live Action Role Player. I don’t think I’ll have time to do both and keep up with drawing.”

“That’s a tough choice,” Stella said. “My parents run a restaurant on Chianga and I always thought they wanted me to follow in their footsteps. But they insisted I go to the New Human University and get a Dollnick education. They were so proud when I graduated in engineering that my father said if he ever caught me working in a kitchen he’d disown me.”

“I wanted to be a gymnast until I was twelve and I practically lived in the gym,” Allison contributed. “Then I had a growth spurt and that was that.”

“But you’re still short,” Fenna said, and then clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

Allison laughed. “There’s adult-short and there’s gymnast-short. I think what we’re saying is that you should keep an open mind. My grandmother told me that back on Earth people mainly went to university for the credentials so they could get matching jobs.”

“Either that or to party,” Stella put in.

“But the New Human University that the Dollnicks established on Chianga for the children of contract workers is all about strengthening your natural aptitudes and building complementary skills so you can work to your full potential. I’ve heard the Stryx Open University is the same, or you could go to a Verlock academy.”

“All of the alien university systems are good. They’ve had a much longer time to work out education than we have.”

The corridor doors slid open and two men entered. Both of them wore a stylized version of the heavy coveralls favored by miners, and one of them sported prosthetic second thumbs, a dead giveaway they were from a Drazen open world. Fenna signed them in, everybody introduced themselves, and then Stella launched into the presentation.

After the technical details were described and Stella answered the men’s questions, Allison took over and explained the pricing model for convertible elevator containers, with a focus on how they would save the mining consortium money in the long run. By the time she wrapped up, Mike was certain that he wanted to become a sales engineer.

“I’ll be blunt,” the older man said. “Everything you’ve shown us looks good. We just came from Gorf and Associates where the consultant on our project stated in no uncertain terms that a Dollnick manufacturer was the only way to go for any sort of elevator system upgrade. But I understand that your factory is one-hundred percent staffed by humans.”

“And because of that, we pay extra for a Princely Standards inspector to recertify our quality twice as often as required,” Allison said. “I don’t know what kind of connection to the Stryxnet you have on Seven Open Pits, but you can confirm all of our certifications through the Union Station librarian while you’re here.”

“We did that before accepting your invitation to meet,” the older man said. “But the fact remains that you’re humans.”

“So are you,” Allison pointed out. “Do you think we would offer this financing plan to miners operating on Earth? It’s only because you adhere to the Consortium Scales that we’re willing to do business with you at all. We won’t earn back the engineering overhead on this job until the third decade.”

“And you’ll have a steady source of income for the next two centuries,” the younger man countered. “It’s such a large commitment and you don’t have any customers with comparable installations that have been functioning for at least fifty years.”

“Our factory didn’t exist fifty years ago,” Stella said in frustration.

“Why don’t you do a site visit?” Mike suggested. “My dad never spends money for CoSHC without going in person to see whatever it is.”

“Who are you again?” the old man asked.

“Associate Ambassador Cohan’s son,” Allison told him, and when the man shook his head, she added, “You know, Daniel. The guy we all voted to be in charge.”

“Oh, right. Give us a minute.”

The two men walked over to the back corner of the office and put their heads together to hold a quiet conversation. When they came back, the older man asked, “How long would that take?”

“It’s a two-day stretch in the tunnel to get to Chianga if you don’t mind Zero-G in a small ship. If you can get a rental…”

“There were a whole bunch available this morning and I can’t imagine they’re gone yet,” Fenna said, and then pointed at her ear to indicate she was checking her heads-up display.

“And who’s she again?” the older man asked Allison.

“She works for Tunnel Trips part-time,” Stella explained.

“Her dad is the main shareholder,” Mike told them. “Her mom is Aisha.”

“The Aisha?” the younger man asked in astonishment. “The one I watched on Let’s Make Friends?”

“And I was on the show for two years before I got too old,” the boy added proudly. “My little sister just aged off.”

“There are three ships left, and I reserved two in case you want to travel separately,” Fenna reported. “They’re soft reservations so you don’t have to take them, but they’re only good for a half-hour if you don’t confirm.”

The older man nodded. “Make that a hard reservation, young lady. We’ll leave as soon as we get our bags back from the Drazen B&B, assuming that’s alright with you,” he added, looking over at Allison.

“We stayed at the Empire Convention Center Hotel, of course, but we’ll check out and meet you at Tunnel Trips. Just ask the lift tube for Mac’s Bones.”

As soon as the adults all exited, Mike trumpeted, “We did it! Our first business deal.”

“Well, we helped,” Fenna said. “I didn’t know that adults could make their minds up so quickly. Last week when there were only two ships left in the rental lot, a woman with a reservation kept going back and forth between the two trying to decide which one she wanted until I had to go home for supper.”

“It’s like that at Kitchen Kitsch. Humans will take twenty minutes to choose a cupcake mold like it’s the most important decision of their lives. The alien customers know what they need before they start looking, and all they care about is the quality and the price.”

“Are you saying that those people we helped were more like aliens?”

“They kind of acted like it,” Mike said. “Not just the clothes and the thumbs. My mom would say there was no nonsense about them.”

Daniel and Brinda entered the office together from the entrance shared with EarthCent’s conference room, arguing energetically about something. They stopped as soon as they saw the kids.

“Did we miss anything exciting?” Daniel asked.

“We made a business deal, almost,” Mike said. “The Drazen-humans are going to visit Chianga to see the factory where the Dollnick-humans make special elevator containers. I helped with the presentation and told them about site visits.”

“I reserved their rentals and registered them,” Fenna added. “It was really interesting.”

“What were you two fighting about?” Mike asked.

“Your father and I weren’t fighting,” Brinda told him. “We were exploring our options.”

“Your aunt wants the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities to open the job fair to anybody who pays for a booth,” Daniel said. “I keep telling her that defeats the point of having a CoSHC job fair.”

“My mom always says we should share,” Fenna told him.

“That’s right, Daniel,” Brinda said, giving her brother-in-law a friendly push. “And if you don’t share, I’m going to tell Shaina on you.”

“No ganging up,” the associate ambassador protested, making an effort to channel his inner child. “What do you think, Mike? My job is to help CoSHC members find new workers, and if I let other employers join the job fair, they’ll end up competing over the same people.”

“I don’t know,” the boy said. “I remember mom talking about the trade fairs SBJ Fashions goes to, and she says that the more competitors there are, the bigger the crowd.”

“That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell your father for the last five minutes,” Brinda said. “If you want to have a CoSHC-only job fair, you should do it at the next conference. You’re still an associate ambassador for EarthCent, and that means you’re pledged to do your best for humanity, not just human communities on open worlds.”

“But I’ve already announced the job fair to our members and we have dozens of reservations already,” Daniel said. “If Jill hadn’t run off we’d already be assigning booth locations and working on the map. That’s what I was hoping you would help with.”

“And I will, but you heard what the manager at the Empire Convention Center said. Their entire facility is open the week you picked because the drama convention they had scheduled for the Galaxy and Meteor rooms was poached by Flower. If we reserve those other rooms today, he’ll give us a forty percent discount.”

“Flower didn’t poach the con,” Daniel corrected his sister-in-law. “The Dollnick said that the convention center sold it to her because she made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. I bet that means they’re making more by not hosting it than by keeping it.”

“My point is that you can make a room exclusive to CoSHC members and there will still be plenty of space for whoever else wants to hire. You know how flexible the convention center is with partitions and acoustic isolation fields.”

“A job fair including employers from all over would be really neat,” Mike said. “Maybe Libby would send our class on a vacation field trip to learn about career options.”

“Are you really going to stand in the way of the children’s future?” Brinda demanded.

Daniel capitulated with a groan. “I can’t even imagine how much work is going to be involved. The price is I get to keep you as long as I need you, and I’m going to ask Shaina to take time off to help too. Let Jeeves run SBJ Fashions for a change. He has Baa and the Vergallian boy to help.”

“Dietro is hardly a boy,” Brinda said.

“I keep forgetting his name—I just remember that nobody calls him Stick anymore.”

“Excuse me,” a quiet young man asked from the reception counter. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but you were all arguing when I came in and I didn’t want to interrupt. Is this where you’re having the job fair?”

“It will be at the Empire Convention Center, and not for another two months,” Daniel told him. “Are you from one of our member communities?”

“I don’t know what those are,” the young man said. “I thought this was the embassy but I guess I misunderstood the instructions from the station librarian and turned in the wrong door. I need a job, but I doubt I have enough money to wait two months until your fair. I was going to the embassy to get advice.”

“Take a seat, uh—”

“Ofer.”

“—Ofer, and have a piece of fruit,” Daniel told him. “We came through the embassy a minute ago and they’re all tied up with a recipe-tasting for the cookbook, though on second thought, you might want to stop in if you’re hungry. I’m Associate Ambassador Cohan and I’ve just been reminded that I have a duty to humanity, for which you seem to qualify.”

“I’m a hundred percent human, I think,” Ofer said, picking a banana from the basket that Fenna offered. Then he shocked them all by taking a bite out of the middle, skin and all.

“Don’t swallow that,” Brinda barked at him. She held a napkin under his mouth as she would have done for her child to spit something out. “Haven’t you ever seen a banana?”

Ofer took the napkin and made the transfer discretely. “Was that a banana? My teacher bot told me that they’re the most popular fruit on Earth after tomatoes but it tasted horrible.”

“Tomatoes aren’t a fruit,” Mike said.

“Yes, they are,” Fenna contradicted him immediately. “Dring told me.”

“You have to peel bananas before you eat them,” Brinda said. “Where are you from?”

“I’m not sure, really,” Ofer replied with a troubled look on his face. “I remember being on a ship where something went wrong and my father put me in a stasis pod. When I woke up, I was alone on an alien ship with stale air.”

“Your father put you in a pod?” Daniel asked, looking at the gangly young man who was taller than himself. “How long ago was that?”

“I was five at the time, but I don’t know my birthday, so I’m not sure how old I am now. The ship that picked me up was a robotic container carrier on its way to the Ergin Empire. I remember being sick while the artificial intelligence tried to synthesize food I could eat based on information from my teacher bot.”

“I’ve never even heard of the Ergin Empire. How did you get that far off the tunnel network?”

Ofer shrugged. “I think my father was a scientist but I don’t remember our family name. Maybe the ship was an experiment?”

“When did you get back to living with humans?” Brinda asked. “Your English is perfect.”

“The ship’s AI copied English from my teacher bot so I had both of them to talk to,” Ofer said. “I think it was lonely, traveling between star systems all by itself to deliver cargo containers. It told me I was the first passenger it had carried in a long time.”

“You’ve been alone with no company other than an alien AI and a teacher bot since you were five?”

“The cargo drops were automated, and the ship told me that the Ergins don’t like outsiders so it was safer not to tell them I was on board. A few months ago we were stopped by a Cayl ship checking for contraband near their frontier and my AI asked them if they could deliver me to the tunnel network. I’ve been passed from ship to ship since then and I just got to Union Station last week.” Then he noticed the two teens staring at him round-eyed. “I hope my story didn’t upset you.”

“Weren’t you scared?” Fenna asked.

“Maybe, at first, but I don’t remember,” Ofer said. “I spent most of my time reading on my teacher bot and the ship’s AI helped me with homework. We talked all the time.”

“You seem very well adjusted,” Daniel told him. “I won’t ask if you have any experience working in an office like this since I know you don’t, but if you’d like to come in on a trial basis, I’m sure we can find something useful for you to do.”

Four

“Can I ask you to stay on the conference call for a few minutes, Svetlana?” President Beyer asked. “You too, Kelly.”

“What did we do?” Ambassador Zerakova of Corner Station asked as the other diplomats in the hologram began winking out.

“I see that your twins both passed the civil service exam.”

“After I signed them up and paid for a Verlock test prep tutor, but that was over a year ago,” Svetlana said. “If you’re hoping to recruit them, Sabina and Katya both have jobs working for aliens and I haven’t been able to pry them away.”

“I recently had an interesting discussion with a Grenouthian director who’s on Earth shooting a documentary about whales, but I digress. He asked about my succession plan.”

“You’re a few years younger than either of us, Stephen,” Kelly said. “Don’t tell me that EarthCent changed the rules to make the president’s retirement age lower than an ambassador’s.”

“Aliens think in much longer terms than a few years,” the president said. “The director is documenting a project to bring back some endangered whale species and he’s scheduling regular visits to Earth over the next two centuries.”

“This far ahead of time? With dates?”

“I almost cried when he showed me the calendar planner on his tab. That poor Grenouthian has meetings blocked out into the twenty-sixth century, but the point is, he wanted to know if I’d picked an heir yet so he could establish a working relationship. The next shooting date on Earth for the documentary is another thirty years and it appears that the director doesn’t like my chances of making it that long.”

“What did you tell him?” Svetlana asked.

“That EarthCent’s future is in flux due to the accelerated option for the Thousand Cycle plan and that I’d get back to him. We’re doing lunch before he leaves the planet, but I did manage to convince him that nobody else in my family has any interest in diplomacy. He told me in no uncertain terms that EarthCent had better find some diplomats with dutiful children or we stand to lose much of the progress we’ve made.”

“The twins are a lot of things, but dutiful isn’t one of them,” Svetlana said. “If he wants to deal with a diplomatic dynasty he should be talking with Kelly.”

“Dynasty?” Kelly asked, turning to Ambassador Zerakova’s hologram. “When Samuel accepted the job starting up the Human Empire the schedule had them in training wheels for the next century and a half. He thought it was a sort of entry-level administrative job and a chance to work with young people building a framework for something that wouldn’t bear fruit in his lifetime, or his children’s lifetimes. If he wanted to do practical diplomacy, he would have joined EarthCent.”

“But that’s changed now,” the president said. “I, for one, will be perfectly happy if the Human Empire was ready to merge with EarthCent in ten years. It would save me from having to find a successor. All of the aliens I’ve spoken with are in favor of getting the transition over with as soon as possible. Businesses like certainty when it comes to long-term investment, and a thousand cycles out would land right around when the Venus terraforming project gets interesting.”

“I thought one of the Dollnick princes already had that contract,” Svetlana said. “Surely it’s all under control.”

“Prince Kuerda, and there’s always a lot of room for subcontractors on a terraforming job. But they won’t want to bid on the finish-work when the customer is in the middle of a governmental transition.”

“And your solution is to just go ahead with merging EarthCent with the Human Empire as fast as the Stryx allow?” Kelly asked.

“Think about it,” the president said. “EarthCent was little more than a punch line for alien jokes until the current generation of ambassadors began taking over around thirty years ago. The Human Empire would be in danger of becoming the same thing if it remains in our shadow for over a century.”

“But the Earth Two deal…”

“The reason the Alts insisted on dealing with Samuel and the Human Empire rather than EarthCent is that they didn’t want any confusion over where the buck stopped during a potentially messy and drawn-out changeover.”

“But what does this have to do with my twins?” Svetlana asked.

“We need them,” President Beyer told her earnestly. “The main thing that Samuel has going for him on the galactic stage is that he’s Kelly’s son. You’re probably the second-best known EarthCent diplomat, and that translates into a huge advantage for your daughters if they follow you in the trade.”

“What about Associate Ambassador Cohan?” Ambassador Zerakova protested. “The latest EarthCent survey said he had the best name recognition of any of us.”

“You’re talking about Hildy’s data, and that was based on responses from humans. I’m talking about having name recognition in the alien diplomatic community.”

“Since you mentioned Hildy, how does she feel about all of this?” Kelly asked. “She’s been working like a maniac to promote EarthCent’s brand and all of a sudden you want to pull the rug out?”

“Hildy did a little quick research and determined that there won’t be any problem for the Human Empire to keep the EarthCent brand for their diplomatic service,” the president said. “Sure, a couple of hundred years from now it will probably fade away, but that’s no reason to rush around changing stationery and signs as soon as the merger takes place. She was more concerned about that business with EarthScent candles and EarthSent shipping. It’s too late to trademark EarthCent’s pronunciation, but thanks to the early warning, I understand that Samuel got alien legal help to sew up all of the optional spellings likely to cause confusion for the Human Empire.”

“Sabina and Katya are headstrong twenty-six-year-olds,” Svetlana said. “I can’t just make them give up their jobs.” She hesitated, looked over her shoulder to make sure that the office from which she was participating in the holoconference was empty, and then added, “The truth is, I’m worried that they’re too used to living the high life with all of their alien friends. They think they’re going to be young forever, but they’ll be old women by the time the gang they hang out with starts getting married. I’ve been thinking about hiring a matchmaker on the sly.”

“I didn’t want to say anything one way or the other since your daughters would be working for my son, but everything I know about Flower suggests you couldn’t send them a better place if you want to get them married,” Kelly said. “There are very few aliens on board and she’s a compulsive matchmaker.”

“Then consider it done,” the Corner Station ambassador said grimly. “If I have to, I’ll call in some favors with the alien ambassadors and get the girls fired from their current jobs.”

“Good,” President Beyer said. “I’ll feel better if we have three sticks in the fire. I’m supposed to be meeting with a visiting Sharf delegation in a few minutes, so if there’s nothing else…”

Svetlana punched out of the hologram first, apparently in a hurry to start plotting against her daughters. Kelly blinked as her office returned to normal, and then blinked again when she saw her paperback notebook propped open on the display desk where the other ambassador had appeared a moment earlier. She had set it there as a reminder to herself and forgotten it.

“I’m getting worse,” Kelly said out loud as she reached for the book with its racy cover of the bare-chested Dollnick model featured in the Trillionaire Prince romance series. “Next I’ll be tying a string around my finger to remind myself to look in the notebook.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself,” the Stryx librarian said. “I’ve known artificial intelligences with short-term memory problems so bad that they had difficulty finding gainful employment.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I don’t think I’ll be upsetting the competitive balance in the galaxy by telling you that some civilizations experimented with organic computing. Their memory systems can be a tricky technical issue for spontaneously arising AI.”

“Strangely enough, that makes me feel better,” Kelly said. She rose to swipe open the security lock of her office and peeked out the door to see what was happening in the lobby just as the Verlock ambassador was shuffling up to Donna’s display desk. “Srythlan,” she called to him, and the alien ponderously changed course to join her.

“Ambassador McAllister,” he said slowly. “I was in the neighborhood and was hoping for a minute of your time.”

“Of course, Ambassador,” Kelly said. “Shall we talk in the conference room? I can pop into the kitchenette and get you something to drink. And my son-in-law just got in another shipment of that salt cod you like.”

“Coffee, thank you.”

The EarthCent ambassador went ahead of the Verlock, retrieved a small wooden box of salt cod, and poured a coffee into the largest mug. Then she removed the filter from the coffee maker and scraped all of the grounds into Srythlan’s cup and gave them a quick stir. When she brought everything out on a tray, the slow-moving alien was just taking his seat at the table.

Srythlan made a polite show of eating the first piece of rock-hard fish and washing it down with a giant gulp of the scalding coffee before he spoke again. “You make the best coffee of any Human I know,” he declared. “It’s just a more substantial drink if you know what I mean.”

“I’d like to think I’ve learned a thing or two about your preferences in the decades I’ve known you,” Kelly said. “What brings you to our deck?”

“A white lie,” Srythlan replied. “I came on purpose to see you, but it’s not official embassy business.”

“Does one of your relatives have a business on Earth that needs to cut through some red tape? I’m sure President Beyer will be happy to help.”

“It’s not about family business either,” the Verlock said and took another piece of fish from the box. “The salt they use with the cod is excellent. Just a hint of radionuclides for that extra flavor.”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Kelly said. “You’re here on business, but it’s not embassy business, and not your own either.”

“It’s a bit delicate because the Grenouthians are involved, and as the two senior oxygen-breathing species on the tunnel network, we try not to step on each other’s toes. I came to you because of your family involvement.”

“Did Samuel do something to upset the Grenouthians, or was it Dorothy with those sashes she’s always working on? I told her that the bunnies might not see her interpretations of Grenouthian fashion as a tribute, but she—”

“It’s Aisha,” Srythlan interrupted, a rare feat for the slow-spoken alien. “And she hasn’t done anything wrong, rather the opposite. I’ve been asked by our Association of Children’s Academies to speak to her about the foundation she created for early childhood education.”

“Oh, I’d be happy to pass along any message or arrange a meeting,” Kelly said. “If you’d rather keep it low-key, I could invite you both to dinner.”

“I want you to sound her out before I approach her. If she’s not interested, I’ll let it drop without speaking to the Grenouthian ambassador.”

“Where do the Grenouthians come into it?”

“They own Let’s Make Friends. The academy association I’m speaking for is interested in creating a network of vacation camps—I believe you would call them summer camps—for children of all species. Aisha mentions summer camps in the mission statement for her foundation, and if she and the Grenouthians agree, the Let’s Make Friends branding would almost guarantee success.”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Kelly said. “I’m confident Aisha will love to speak to you about it, but I’ll check with her as soon as I get home. I know that there are already a number of Verlock academies operating on Earth so they already have extensive experience with our children. Would all of the camps be there, or are your friends thinking of trying them on open worlds as well?”

Srythlan finished another piece of cod before replying. “The idea is to imitate the show and attract as many different species as possible,” he explained. “The academies plan to try a pilot program on one or more Stryx stations where the populations are already quite mixed. If that’s successful, they could roll out to open worlds where multiple species are welcome.”

“If a Let’s Make Friends camp opens on Union Station, I’m sure Dorothy will want to send Margie. She’s the perfect age.”

 “Assuming the camps prove successful, there may be the possibility of establishing them on any tunnel network world where alien campers can be brought in, like an away camp. Perhaps it could be combined with a resort for the parents so they don’t feel they are sending their children off across the galaxy on their own.”

“So we’re talking about a major business,” Kelly said. “Would the academies expect Aisha’s foundation to fund the whole thing?”

“I believe it’s traditional to share start-up expenses in such multi-species ventures, and eventually, parental contributions would cover the costs,” Srythlan said. “Accommodations could be made for children whose families aren’t in a position to pay, but Verlocks believe that running educational systems on a sound financial basis provides an important example for the children.”

“Imagine if it became as successful as Astria’s Academy of Dance. I understand that they even have franchises outside of the tunnel network.”

“Which creates a problem for us, though one I hope that can be overcome.”

“You think they’ll see the summer camps as competition?” Kelly asked.

“I’m sure you’re aware that Astria’s Academy of Dance is a front for Vergallian Intelligence,” Srythlan said. “Everybody will be suspicious that the Let’s Make Friends camps fill the same purpose for EarthCent Intelligence.”

“Aisha would never allow that. And I never understood why all of the other advanced species put up with the Vergallians using a chain of dance schools to spy on them.”

“Dance is very important, and the Vergallians have the best teaching system,” Srythlan said. “Don’t forget we all host each other’s embassies knowing full well that the cultural attachés and half of the staff are spies. At least it keeps them all in the same place for easy observation.”

“Just let me quickly jot down your main points,” Kelly said, opening her paperback notebook to a new page. “Talk to Aisha about LMF summer camp starting on Stryx stations and later on open worlds,” she said out loud as she wrote. “Ambassador Srythlan won’t approach Grenouthians unless you approve. Shared financing. Regular fees for families that can afford it. No spying.”

“Don’t forget a training camp for counselors,” Srythlan said. “If everyone agrees, the academies I represent would create a program to prepare teens for the jobs.”

“Just how educational would these academy friends of yours want the camp to be, as opposed to, say, fun?”

“Education is fun,” the Verlock said. “I still remember my wife having to go to our children’s academy every evening to fetch them home for supper. They would have studied around the clock if we let them.”

“Cross-cultural issues with counselor training,” Kelly added to her notes.

“What sort of prerequisites do Humans normally expect for children going to camp?” Srythlan asked. “Somebody will have to come up with a standard set that’s acceptable to all of the species involved.”

“Prerequisites for summer camp? I never heard of any.”

“No basic survival skills? Swimming? Making a fire?”

“That’s the sort of thing they taught at camp when I went,” Kelly said. “Children learn those sorts of things in the Station Scouts.”

“But that’s an older age group,” the Verlock pointed out. “The mission statement of Aisha’s foundation is to aid organizations working in early childhood education, up to and including the emotional age of the cast members of her show.”

“You’re right, I was thinking about older kids,” Kelly said. “But do you think there’s really an interest in educational summer camp for six to eight-year-olds?”

“I’m not the expert, just the message bearer,” the Verlock said and finished off his coffee. “Thank you very much for your time, but I have to rush to a meeting of the Committees Committee. There’s been a request to reshuffle some responsibilities.”

“Did my implant just glitch? It sounded like you said ‘Committees Committee.’”

“It needs a better name and you’re welcome to join me. We haven’t met in over fifty years so it hasn’t come up in the time I’ve known you.”

“What does the committee do?” Kelly asked.

“It deals with the scope of the other committees required by the tunnel network treaty. The Dollnicks have requested that we transfer the Committee for Contract Work to—”

“I think I’ll pass this time,” Kelly interrupted. “It sounds like one of those meetings that could go on all night.”

After the Verlock left, Donna flagged Kelly down, and the ambassador joined the embassy manager at the latter’s desk.

“Did you remember that we’re all coming for dinner?” Donna asked.

“I had it written down. It feels awkward letting a guest play chef, but with Jonah having his own cooking show, I don’t have the confidence to cook for him myself.”

“His wife took the baby to visit her parents and Jonah couldn’t get away because of Stone Soup’s shooting schedule,” Donna said. “The poor boy has been so lonely that he moved back home for the two weeks Sephia is away.”

“Blythe must enjoy seeing more of him,” Kelly said. “Sometimes I forget how spoiled I am having Dorothy’s and Paul’s families living right next door.”

“I feel the same way about Blythe and Chastity staying on Union Station after InstaSitter made them wealthy beyond their dreams. Sometimes I wonder what they would have done with their lives if they hadn’t grown up here and gone to Libby’s experimental school. When will Margie be starting there?”

“She just finished a year of pre-school so I think she’ll start the regular classes when they go back after vacation.”

“And how did the Intelligence Steering Committee meeting go?”

“Oh, I should write all that down while I remember,” Kelly said. “The president and the other ambassadors are all in favor of accelerating the process of the Human Empire becoming a full tunnel network member and taking over for us. Ambassador Zerakova is going to try to talk her daughters into taking jobs with the Human Empire and moving to Flower.”

“They passed the civil service exam?”

“Yes, after she hired a test prep coach for them.”

“I’ll bet Daniel’s new assistant would breeze through it,” Donna said. “He’s done nothing but study all of his life.”

“Is he a genius?” Kelly asked.

The embassy manager grimaced. “It’s hard to tell. Maybe an idiot savant? I’m not sure there’s a name for what he is, other than a boy who was raised by alien AI from the age of five.”

“That is pretty clunky. Ofer has problems with things we take for granted?”

“Aabina showed him how to use their coffee maker, but when he tried it himself, he forgot the pot and didn’t realize that the burning smell from their kitchenette was a bad thing. I taught him how to use the display desk to start mapping out the booths for the job fair, but I wouldn’t recommend letting him do any purchasing because he thinks that prices are physical constants, like the speed of light. I think he must be the most innocent person I’ve ever met.”

“He’s only been in contact with humans for a few weeks,” Kelly said. “It would be surprising if he was able to read body language or pick up on all of the subtle cues we use to communicate with each other.”

“As near as I can tell he’s read everything but has no practical experience with anything,” Donna said. “The alien ship just wasn’t set up for a growing boy. It had a rotating ring for gravity, but no green spaces or any other living beings.”

“I’ll have to invite him for dinner. Is he still staying in the hostel that Libby put him in?”

“He seems to like the company of the other young people, which I suppose is a good sign. Still, if he’s going to keep working for Daniel, we should see about getting him a more permanent place.”

“And sign him up for the civil service exam,” Kelly suggested. “If it doesn’t work out with Daniel, at least that would give the poor boy some credentials for his resume.”

Five

“All of these spaceships belong to your family?” Ofer asked Joe. “They’re very small. Wouldn’t it be more efficient to build a big one?”

“Paul and I are the majority partners in Tunnel Trips, and the ships are small because they originally served as space taxis,” the EarthCent ambassador’s husband explained. “I believe that more than half of our renters travel solo, and you understand that these small ships are only good for point-to-point travel between space structures on the tunnel network. They aren’t capable of landing on a planet.”

“Because they’d burn up on atmospheric reentry?”

“You know about that?” Joe asked in surprise.

“I read about Earth’s early space program on my teacher bot. Sputnik, Mercury, Apollo.”

“The Dollnicks engineer their space taxis with a one-time energy conversion shield that would protect them from atmospheric overheating. But they’d have to deploy a parachute not to crash and they wouldn’t have the power to take off again. They’re basically air-tight containers with just enough propulsion to make it from a space station or an orbital to the nearest tunnel entrance.”

“But that bigger ship can land on planets?” Ofer asked, pointing past a Horten girl carrying a box of cleaning supplies.

“Yes. That’s a two-man trader built by Flower Shipyards under license from the Sharf, and Tunnel Trips is going to try them as commercial rentals. Marilla,” Joe called to the girl and beckoned her over. “Marilla is also a partner in the business, and to be honest with you, she does all of the administrative work.”

“So what do you and Paul do?” the young man asked.

“Well, I’m semi-retired, but I hold the lease on Mac’s Bones and provide space for the business and the repair facility. Paul started Tunnel Trips with ships we repaired after they were abandoned in long-term parking and auctioned off by the Stryx. But we soon figured out that standardizing on a couple of basic models would make life a lot easier, and Dollnick space taxi operators do an excellent job maintaining their fleets.”

“Then why do the Dollnicks sell them?”

“They have to please their customers to remain competitive and that means operating relatively new ships,” Joe explained. “Humans still have low expectations when it comes to space travel. Marilla, this is Ofer. He’s working for Daniel to help CoSHC get ready for the big job fair and he’s here to talk about transportation.”

“Are you human?” Ofer asked the Horten, causing her skin to flash through several color changes. “You’re about the right size, and I counted five fingers, but there’s something strange about your face.”

“Ofer hasn’t been around people most of his life and he asks a lot of questions,” Joe explained with a laugh. “He just arrived on the station last week after being brought up on an alien container ship by artificial intelligence.”

Marilla’s eyes went wide. “I’ve heard of that happening to Hortens, which is what I am,” she said in her accented English. “With all of the space travel and inevitable accidents, it comes up more often than you might think. Those children, or the adults they grow into, usually become famous commentators.”

“Why?” Ofer asked in his typically blunt manner.

“Even though they’re us, they see our society very differently than Hortens who have grown up sharing the same culture. And whatever else you can say about the parenting skills of artificial intelligences, they tend to be very talkative and the children they raise are highly articulate. How long were you away from Humans?”

“The tourist doctor on the travel concourse told me I’m around twenty-four, so that would be nineteen years.”

“Ofer is putting together a list of Union Station travel options for the job fair vendors and he needs to get an idea of our capacity,” Joe said. “He’d never even heard of the ship rental business before this morning.”

“Oh, I can help you with that,” the Horten said, her skin turning a cheerful brown. “Let’s go back to the kiosk and I’ll bring up the reservation calendar for Mac’s Bones and the franchises.”

“People vote on who gets the rental ships?” Ofer asked.

Marilla looked at Joe, who had to think for a moment before replying. “You’re thinking of the voting franchise,” he said. “I haven’t heard it used that way outside of history books because the only election I’ve ever participated in was the one where my wife was voted the Carnival Queen.”

“We aren’t living in a democracy?”

“I’m not sure what you would call the form of government on Stryx stations,” Joe said. “Something between a benevolent autocracy and anarchy, with local leadership of the different species on their own decks. How do your people describe it, Marilla?”

“Stryx stations are their own thing,” the girl said simply. “You go with the flow, try not to think about it too much, and everybody takes their cues from the ambassadors. Are you renting an apartment on the station, Ofer?”

“I’m staying in a hostel.”

“So you’ve never signed a lease or a rental agreement,” Marilla concluded, picking up her tab from the kiosk and swiping it to life. “While we do a small walk-in business, the vast majority of our rentals are reserved over the Stryxnet, and the renters have to agree to our terms. If they return a ship somewhere other than they intended, we have the right to apply a charge to convey the ship to the previously designated location.”

“Because somebody else might be waiting for it,” Ofer said. “It sounds like a fun logistics problem.”

“That’s what I think,” the Horten said enthusiastically. “And now that we have a franchise on Flower and she’s always moving there are extra variables to play with. Did you see the ship I had just finished cleaning when Joe called me?”

“He said it’s a two-man Sharf trader manufactured by Flower.”

“It’s our first commercial rental ship. We’re going to have to change the agreement about damage caused by the customer because you have to expect some dents and scrapes in the hold from carrying cargo. It will be a relief not having to argue about every little unreported ding.”

“Why wouldn’t they report them?” Ofer asked.

“Because they hope we won’t notice and then they won’t get charged,” Marilla explained.

“But that’s the same as lying! Didn’t you say they sign an agreement? Doesn’t it stipulate that they’ll report any damage?"

“Yes, but—can you explain it, Joe?”

“Some people try to get away with everything they can, and the general rule on the tunnel network is caveat emptor, buyer beware,” Joe told him. The EarthCent ambassador’s husband winced when he saw the shocked expression on the young man’s face. “It may take you a while to get used to the fact that people, that biologicals in general, are often motivated by self-interest. For example, our commercial rentals will have restrictions on weight and cargo or somebody would try to use them to move a load of nuclear waste. A single trip would leave us with a depleted fuel pack from getting the mass off the planet plus a radioactive hull.”

“I think the commercial rentals are going to be popular with trade show vendors,” Marilla said. “Our regular rentals are so small that salespeople couldn’t carry much more than giveaways and artwork for their booths. Now they’ll be able to bring their demonstration equipment rather than shipping it separately, which will be a huge savings in time.”

“What are giveaways?” Ofer asked.

“Free samples. They’re half the fun at trade shows.”

“So at the job fair they’ll give away free jobs?”

“I don’t think any of the employers attending will be charging for jobs,” Marilla replied, somewhat confused by the question. “They might give out other things, like holo memories with their branding, or travel accessories. Anything that will tempt an attendee to stop and talk.”

“I think I understand now,” Ofer said. “But are rental ships a practical option for our members? It looks like you might have space for a few dozen, but I only see two, and if the others are all rented…”

“Tunnel Trips has franchise operators at the space elevator hubs of most of the open worlds with large Human populations,” Marilla told him. “When there’s a big business event somewhere, like on Union Station, the reservations for ships get booked up in advance, and then they all end up here. If we fill up and there isn’t room in Mac’s Bones for the overflow, we move them into a parking orbit. That part is easy since the Stryx control all of the ships in the core and nearby space for safety reasons. They charge a minimal fee for the traffic control service.”

“So how many ships can I say are available?”

“I don’t think you should put an exact number on it because that’s always changing. Just include Tunnel Trips as an option, and this,” the Horten girl handed over a plastic chit, “lists our contact information for the Stryxnet. All of the employers attending the show will be experienced businesspeople so you won’t have to hold their hands.”

“I’m a little weak on the whole concept of business,” Ofer admitted. “I’ve read about capitalism in Earth’s history, but never having engaged in business myself, I’m not sure I understand some of the basic principles.”

“You should talk to Kevin,” Marilla said. “He runs the chandlery in Mac’s Bones outfitting the small ships that camp here or come in for maintenance. He used to be a small trader.”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” Joe said. “He’s married to my daughter if you’re trying to keep all of the connections straight.”

“And your son is married to Donna’s granddaughter, and they’re trying to start an empire?” Ofer asked.

“It’s more of an administrative job, there isn’t any of the usual conquering involved,” Joe said with a grin. “Don’t be surprised if Alexander gives you a good sniffing. He’s appointed himself my grandson’s guardian.”

“Is that a Cayl hound? I didn’t expect to see one on the station.”

“You’re familiar with the breed? Just don’t make any aggressive moves and you’ll be fine. Alexander lives with Kevin’s family, and his sire, Beowulf, is around somewhere.”

Alexander intercepted the pair of men halfway between the rental kiosk and the chandlery, probably his idea of a safe distance in case Ofer was carrying explosives. He sniffed the newcomer carefully, starting at the feet and working his way right up to the hair, though he had to jump up and put his front paws on Ofer’s shoulders to accomplish the full examination.

“It’s okay, Alexander,” Joe told the dog. “Don’t you trust me to vet the visitors? Richard is my grandson after all.”

“Do they understand English?” Ofer asked.

“We think so, but they aren’t very good at listening unless they want to.” The hound completed his inspection and tore off to alert Kevin that visitors were coming. “I’m surprised you recognized him for a Cayl hound. Most people think that they’re monster dogs or dire wolves.”

“The Cayl were the first aliens I stayed with on my way to Union Station. They passed me to visitors from one of their lost columns who got me a berth on a Sharf explorer that was scouting a nearby system. The head of the Cayl column gave me a message to pass on to the emperor’s granddaughter when Flower stops at Union Station.”

“Talk about falling off the turnip wagon and ending up in the middle of interstellar affairs. You probably don’t want to repeat that story too often.”

“Do you think somebody would—” Ofer paused for a moment, searching for the right phrase, “—put a contract out on me?”

“They might,” Joe said, “or they could shoot you full of joy juice to make you talk. An upper-caste Vergallian could get the message out of you with her pheromones.”

“Aabina would never do anything like that. I think she’s the nicest person I’ve met.”

“Just remember she’s not Human, even if she does work for the EarthCent embassy, and I don’t think she’s old enough for pheromone control,” Joe said, lifting Margie off her feet with a grunt that was only half theatrical when she rushed up to grab his legs. “How’s my princess? I’ll have to tell Dorothy to stop feeding you. Is your father here?”

“In the back,” the little girl said, squirming in her grandfather’s arms to get a closer look at the stranger. “Who are you?”

“Ofer,” he replied. “To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”

“Margaret Anne Crick,” Margie replied, extending a hand. “I’m almost five.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the young man said. He shocked the girl by bending a knee and planting a kiss on the back of her hand.

“Why’d you do that?” she asked.

“Joe just said you’re a princess. Did I get it wrong?”

“I didn’t mean an official princess,” Joe explained. “It’s also a term of affection.”

Kevin came out from behind the counter of the chandlery. “Bringing me a new customer? Alexander seemed pretty excited, but when he saw that Richard was napping, he went into guard mode and wouldn’t come back out front.”

“Ofer is working on the job fair with Daniel but he doesn’t have any business experience,” Joe said. “We thought you might give him a quick primer on tunnel network trade.”

“I’d be happy to,” Kevin said. “I grew up on a family trader, Ofer, and I had my own ship for a while before getting married and washing up on shore here.”

“There’s an ocean on Union Station?” Ofer asked.

“It’s an expression that traders use when they stop traveling. These days I supply ships that stop in, sell snacks to renters from Tunnel Trips, and handle packages for Flower’s delivery network. Is there something particular about business that interests you?”

“Everything. I’ve talked with hundreds of businesspeople who contacted us about booths at the job fair and I know all of the words they’re using but I don’t understand most of what they’re talking about.”

“Ofer’s self-educated from a teacher bot and an alien artificial intelligence,” Joe interjected.

“I studied with a teacher bot too, though my mother and sisters took over when they had time,” Kevin said. “Let me ask a few questions to get an idea of where to start. Are you familiar with buying low and selling high?”

“Are we talking about depression and drug use?” Ofer asked.

“Prices. In business, the idea is always to go from low to high.” Kevin took Margie from Joe and set her on the counter of the chandlery, gestured for the two men to sit, and then went inside and retrieved a mesh bag of apples. “These are from the ag deck,” he continued. “When I’m selling provisions to traders, I get a cred for the full bag, but when people renting from Tunnel Trips want one or two apples for a trip, I charge twenty centees apiece.”

“There are ten apples in a bag,” Margie said and took one. “Now there are seven.”

“Nine,” Kevin corrected her gently.

“That means you charge twice as much when selling single apples,” Ofer said. “Is that fair?”

“A trader buying provisions from me may spend fifty creds in one go, not to mention bringing me merchandise I can sell. I get around half of my stock from suppliers on the station and the other half from traders, most of it in barter. I’m not making any of the products I sell, I’m a middleman, which means I’m getting paid for risking my capital, stocking inventory, and most of all, investing my time. Selling a single apple to a traveling salesman renting a ship can take just as much time as filling an order for a trader who stops to buy a standard set of squeeze tube meals.”

“What do you pay for a sack of apples?”

“Five creds,” Kevin told him with a grin.

“Then I’m sorry to inform you that you’re losing money,” Ofer said gravely.

“The sacks he buys on the ag deck hold a hundred apples,” Joe explained. “That’s the difference between wholesale and retail.”

“The empty mesh bags only cost me a centee, so I’m doubling my money selling to traders,” Kevin said. “In the case of apples, the traders are buying for themselves. But other provisions I carry, like canned and dehydrated foods, tools for mining, and any of the dry goods, are more likely to end up as trade stock. So in that sense, I’m also a distributor.”

“Not a wholesaler?” Ofer asked.

“Wholesalers work directly with manufacturers and importers,” Kevin said. “Distributors are the middlemen who stock a particular line of goods, like my specialty in Zero-G rations and small trade goods. Retailers deal strictly with the final customers.”

“And at every stage the cost goes up? It seems very inefficient. Couldn’t everybody save a lot of money and time by ordering directly from the factory?”

“If the manufacturers want to be in the business of dealing directly with customers, but relatively few of them do,” Joe said. “Imagine if you had a factory making—” he glanced around until his eye caught on Margie’s ruby slippers, “—shoes. If you ship them to a wholesaler soon after they’re made, that saves you from needing a large warehouse and the employees who work there.”

“Not dealing directly with consumers also means fewer salespeople and customer support reps,” Kevin said. “And fewer employees overall saves on human resources and all of the overhead involved so you can concentrate on manufacturing.”

“I’m not sure,” Ofer said. “It sounds to me like the shoes will end up being shipped multiple times, and there are probably other areas of duplication every time they change hands. The wholesaler needs somebody who buys shoes from the manufacturer and somebody else who sells them to distributors. The shoes move from warehouse to warehouse until they finally reach the retailer, who probably keeps more shoes than he has on display. And what if some people like shoes and buy more than they need? It all seems so wasteful.”

“Don’t let my wife hear you talking about anybody having more shoes than they need,” Kevin said. “It’s probably not a good idea to bring it up with the businesspeople you meet in the CoSHC office either.”

“Don’t they want to be efficient? Stats always told me that there’s a fixed amount of energy in the universe. Wasting it is at best sloppy, and at worst, evil.”

“Stats? Statistics?”

“Static,” Ofer said. “I couldn’t pronounce the name of the artificial intelligence who rescued me and brought me up because it sounded like radio static, white noise.”

“If you focus too much on efficiency, you may come up with a model for the universe that has no place for life,” Joe cautioned the young man. “Did your teacher bot have much to tell you about the aliens or the tunnel network?”

“I mainly read about Earth’s history and studied science.”

“None of the tunnel network members use robots more than they have to, and most of them are less reliant on automation than Earth was before the Stryx brought us onto the tunnel network. Sentient beings need work to give us a reason to get up in the morning and feel that we’re contributing. I don’t know how many advanced alien civilizations have come and gone because they lost their sense of purpose, but it’s a lot.”

“But then you’re talking about busywork,” Ofer protested. “Why not pay one group of people to dig holes and another group to fill them in again?”

Kevin laughed and pointed at a display of picks and shovels hanging in front of shelves of canned goods on the back wall. “What do you think mining is all about?”

Ofer frowned. “I guess I finally understand why the Dollnick who manages the Empire Convention Center offered us a free simulcast to their convention centers on other Stryx stations. The way you describe the tunnel network, everybody must be hiring.”

“Did Daniel accept the offer?” Joe asked.

“I haven’t had a chance to tell him yet,” Ofer said. “He’s very busy. Besides, it was free, so I told the Dollnick to go ahead and gave my voice confirmation since I never learned to sign my name. He seemed very happy.”

Six

“What’s up, Walter?” Daniel asked the managing editor of the Galactic Free Press. “Did I accidentally do something newsworthy?”

“My wife asked me to stop by to discuss an advertising push for the job fair.”

“I didn’t realize you had any involvement in the advertising end of the business.”

“I don’t,” Walter replied dryly. “But our wives seem to think that the job fair is news that should be reported over and over again. Where are they?”

“Shaina told me they were going to the Empire Convention Center to look through Dollnick security imaging from previous events we’ve held there. They’re hoping to pull some still shots for use in promotions.”

“Substitute ‘press releases’ for ‘promotions’ and you’ll have an idea of the pressure Brinda is putting on me. By the way, that’s an interesting receptionist you have.”

“Ofer?” Daniel couldn’t stop a frown from temporarily turning down the corners of his mouth. “Nice kid, but I’m not sure he’s cut out for working with business people.”

“That could be a problem since business is the only thing holding your conference of sovereign communities together,” Walter said. “But he’s surprisingly well versed in the political history of nineteenth-century Europe.”

“How did that even come up? No, don’t tell me.”

“But it’s an interesting story,” Walter said, settling into the seat across from Daniel’s display desk. “When I came in, he asked me if I was here on CoSHC business, and I told him that I was your brother-in-law here to see you on a personal matter.”

“I don’t see the connection.”

“Ofer does. He seems to be under the impression that all Union Station marriages are political marriages. I think he believes that the two of us owe our positions to our wives.”

Daniel opened his mouth to say something and then changed his mind. “Go on.”

“It makes sense in a way if you consider that this office and the embassy provide the sum-total of his first-person knowledge of marriage,” Walter explained. “He knows that Blythe and Chastity are Donna’s daughters, that Chastity owns the Galactic Free Press, and that Blythe funded EarthCent Intelligence. He also knows that Kelly’s son married Blythe’s daughter, and they’re currently in charge of the Human Empire startup.

“And he found out that Kelly’s daughter works for our wives at SBJ Fashions, which is conveniently co-owned by Jeeves, who is one generation removed from Stryx Libby and two from Stryx Gryph,” Daniel said, nodding in understanding. “I guess to an outsider it would look like we’re all involved in political marriages to concentrate our power. Did you explain that’s not how it works?”

“I suggested that he wait to meet a few other families before he starts drafting a book. If he writes as clearly as he speaks, I’m sure I can find him something at the paper if he doesn’t work out here.”

“Deal. Now, what were you saying about press releases? I put Brinda and Shaina in charge because they know far more about marketing than I do. I gave them a pretty healthy budget for advertising.”

“The problem is that they want to reach our paid subscribers,” Walter said.

“And…?”

“Our paid subscribers don’t see ads. They get customized versions of the paper filtering out the subjects they’re not interested in. They pay the subscription cost in order to receive curated news and information without advertising.”

“I’d forgotten all about that because I never see ads myself,” Daniel admitted. “I vaguely remember checking off the subjects I’m interested in years ago. I must have chosen well because I seem to get all of the news I want.”

“We employ machine learning that adjusts your preferences based on the articles you open and how long you spend on them,” Walter explained.

“You know what I’m reading? That’s a bit spooky. You really should make that clear to your subscribers.”

“There’s a disclosure in the End User License Agreement you accepted. The point is, Brinda is endlessly pinging me with potential story leads about the job fair because she wants to get it in front of our subscribers who don’t see ads.”

“It wasn’t my idea, Walter. If it was only Shaina, I’d try saying something to her, but Brinda is your wife.”

“And I’m here to capitulate,” Walter said. “I talked it over with Chastity and she’s willing to hold her nose and run a few stories about the job fair as if it was news on one condition.”

“Name it,” Daniel said.

“A Galactic Free Press booth in the room you’re setting aside for employers from the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities. She wants to try recruiting more freelancers on those worlds.”

“We’ll put you next to SBJ Fashions. Of course, the two of us doing a backroom deal has to make you wonder if Ofer might not be onto something after all.”

“Associate Ambassador Cohan?” the young man’s voice came from Daniel’s display desk as if acknowledging his name.

“Yes, Ofer.”

“There’s an Ambassador Ptew here to see you. I believe he’s an alien of some sort.”

“I’ll be right out,” Daniel said. “I’ve no idea what this is about, Walter, so I may need my office for privacy.”

“I’m finished here,” the managing editor of the Galactic Free Press said. “I’ll ping Brinda and give her the good news. She’ll tell your wife.”

“I’m sure that Shaina will fill me in on their nefarious plans when I get home.”

Two minutes later, Daniel found himself pinging his wife to tell her he’d be late for supper. Ptew waited patiently while the associate ambassador carried out the subvocalized conversation, and then instructed the lift tube capsule, “Horten Embassy.”

“I don’t understand how our planning board could be having another emergency hearing so soon,” Daniel said, trying not to sound like he was complaining. “We had one just last cycle, and I would have sworn that Bork told me there’s a six-cycle cool-down period.”

“We’ve been tasked with a new mandate,” the Fillinduck explained. “That’s why I came in person to fetch you rather than sending a message. I know your security is weak, and this is the sort of news that market speculators trade on.”

“I didn’t know that the Terraforming Subcommittee had the power to repurpose our planning board.”

“They don’t. It was a decision of the Committees Committee. I’m sure Srythlan told me that he invited Ambassador McAllister to participate but she decided to take a pass.”

“There’s a committee that deals with committees?”

“Strictly in an administrative capacity and it rarely meets,” Ptew explained as they stepped out on the Horten deck. “By the way, that’s an interesting young Human you have working as a receptionist. He asked me if I was wearing a costume, and when I replied that my feathers are my own, he wanted to know if I was related to a Quetzalcoatl. My implant translated that to be some sort of mythical creation god.”

“I’m just thankful he got an implant last weekend,” Daniel said. “His original plan was to learn the most common languages in use on Union Station, despite the fact we can’t pronounce half the sounds in most of them.”

“He reminds me a bit of some Human academics I met at a conference,” the Fillinduck said as he led Daniel to the Horten embassy. “If you haven’t been here in a while, they’ve redecorated.”

“Do they still do the whole decontamination routine?”

“You’ll see.”

The pair entered the anteroom of the Horten embassy which was separated from the lobby by thick glass. Daniel braced himself for the sound of the biohazard alarm, but to his surprise, a door slid open in what he had thought was a solid wall, revealing Ortha beckoning to them.

“Bypass corridor,” the Horten ambassador replied to Daniel’s greeting and question about the remodeling. “I try not to use it when the whole staff is here, but it’s after hours on our clock.”

“Ptew mentioned something about security when he came to get me,” Daniel said, nodding to Ambassadors Bork and Czeros, who were already seated. “Are the five of us sufficient for a quorum?”

“It’s still early and Crute is on the way,” Ambassador Ortha said. “Did Ptew fill you in or did he duck his responsibility?”

Bork and Czeros rewarded the Horten with a good laugh for this witticism, though the Fillinduck ambassador didn’t appear to be amused.

“That’s very good, I hadn’t heard that one before,” Ptew said. “I’ll have to ask a Human specialist for puns involving the pronunciation of Drazen and Frunge. I believe I can come up with a facetious Humanese meaning for Hor-ten all on my own.”

The Dollnick ambassador entered through a second door that opened directly onto the corridor, proving that he was a regular visitor to the Horten embassy. “Sorry I’m barely early,” Crute said, scanning the other occupants of the room. “Aleeytis is in another meeting but she’ll be here as soon as they vote.”

“I thought I replaced her on the planning board last year,” Daniel said.

“That was when we had to deal with a backlog of variances for terraformed worlds,” Bork said. “We’ve been repurposed as a full-fledged committee to deal with inter-species labor contracts.”

“Aren’t all of those rules enshrined in the permanent section of the tunnel network treaty?”

“Permanent section? I’ve never heard of such a thing. The treaty has always been a living document, and when a new situation arises, it has to be dealt with. The Committees Committee was impressed with the work this planning board did last year and tasked us with holding a public hearing on the issue at hand.”

“When is it scheduled?” Daniel asked.

“Now,” Ortha said. “I call this meeting of the Contract Labor Committee to order. Are there any questions before I read the minutes from the last meeting?”

“Where’s the catering?” Czeros asked without waiting to be recognized by the chair.

“I knew something slipped my mind. Let’s get through the work at hand and we can go out to an all-species restaurant.”

“And you’re paying?”

“We’ll discuss the check when the time comes,” the Horten ambassador said. “Chair recognizes Associate Ambassador Cohan.”

“How did we go from being a planning board working under a subcommittee to being a full committee?” Daniel demanded. “That’s a jump of two levels. I just checked the tunnel network treaty on my heads-up display and it looks like there’s a formal process including consultations with all members.”

“The Committee of Committees has the power to temporarily delegate full committee responsibilities to any tunnel network working group consisting of six or more ambassadors as the need arises,” Ortha told him.

“Temporary as in we’re just meeting this one time and that’s it?”

“Temporary as in our status will be reviewed after fifty cycles.”

“But that’s more than seven years!” Daniel protested.

“Exactly,” the chairman said. “Getting back to the minutes, the last meeting of the Contract Labor Committee took place on Echo Station after Earth was invited to join the tunnel network. The meeting was chaired by Drazen Ambassador Norg—” Ortha looked up from his tab. “Does anybody really want to hear all of this?”

“Just ping us with a copy and we’ll all sign off,” Crute suggested.

The corridor door slid open again and the Vergallian ambassador swept in looking like she had just arrived from an immersive soundstage where she was playing the leading role in a production of ‘The Galaxy’s Most Beautiful Humanoid.’ Her expression soured after she took in the empty table.

“No catering again?” Aleeytis asked.

“My staff makes too much of a fuss about the cleanup,” Ortha said apologetically. “We’ll go out afterward.”

“Did I miss the minutes from the previous meeting?”

“I was just about to—”

“I’ll go back out and come in again when you’re done,” she cut him off.

Crute stuck out the two arms on his left side to stop the Vergallian from leaving. “He’s going to ping us the transcript and we’ll all check the box that we read it,” the Dollnick said. “Did you leave your meeting before voting?”

“I gave my proxy to Affie, the Alt’s contract queen,” Aleeytis said, taking her seat. “Having a spare royal working out of our embassy is coming in handy. Please continue.”

“Chair recognizes Associate Ambassador Cohan a second time,” Ortha said.

“Since when do you count?” Daniel asked.

“Is that your question?”

“No. I move that we recess until I can read the minutes and figure out what’s going on.”

“Does anybody second the motion?” the Horten ambassador asked, and then continued without a noticeable pause. “Motion is denied. It’s been brought to the attention of this committee that the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities, better known by the acronym CoSHC, is in violation of Section Eight, Subsection Three point Eleven of Addendum Y of the tunnel network treaty clause pertaining to the employment of contract workers.”

“But we don’t—” Daniel began.

“Out of order,” Ortha interrupted. “I’ll save you all the time of looking it up by reading the pertinent text.” The Horten ambassador stood up and assumed a classic speaker’s pose with one hand behind his back before continuing. “Any organization consisting of members from a single species that makes use of the Stryxnet infrastructure to simulcast a recruiting event to multiple locations on stations separated by light-years must make provisions for employers from all treaty signatories to make presentations.”

Daniel’s hand shot up.

“Chair recognizes Associate Ambassador Cohan a third time,” Ortha said as he sat again.

“This is a setup,” Daniel exploded. “We had no intention of simulcasting anything until the Empire Convention Center contacted us and offered the service for free. I only found out a few hours ago that my temporary employee took it upon himself to accept in our name.”

“Beware of Dollnicks bearing gifts,” Czeros muttered.

“The whole point of the job fair is to allow CoSHC members to compete with the alien contract employers that currently provide over eighty percent of the jobs for expatriate humans,” Daniel continued. “I can’t tell my members that we’re paying for a job fair that welcomes the very employers with whom they’re vying for human resources. I’ll cancel the whole thing first.”

“Chair recognizes Ambassador Bork,” Ortha said.

“I move we set aside the rules and settle this with a friendly chat,” the Drazen ambassador said.

“Second the motion,” Czeros said immediately.

“Show of hands?” Ortha requested. “Motion sustained.”

“I object,” Daniel said in frustration at the rapid maneuvering.

“Too late,” the Horten told him.

“What can we do to make you happy?” Bork asked Daniel.

“Leave us alone to have a CoSHC-only job fair as we planned.”

“I’ve received information that you’ve expanded the scope to include the Galactic Free Press and SBJ Fashions,” Aleeytis said. “If I were a suspicious individual, I might think that you were doing favors for your wife and brother-in-law.”

“We’re getting, uh, enhanced news coverage, and my wife and sister-in-law ganged up on me about SBJ Fashions,” Daniel said, his shoulders slumping. “You guys understand nepotism.”

“You’re getting free promotional pieces disguised as news articles to bypass subscriber preferences, and SBJ Fashions is partially owned by a Stryx and a Terragram mage, the latter of which isn’t even a tunnel network species,” the Vergallian ambassador pointed out. “How are we supposed to explain that to the employers from our worlds that depend on us to represent their interests?”

“What if the non-Human employers chip in and pay for all of the convention center expenses?” Bork offered. “Is that acceptable to everybody?”

The aliens around the table immediately assented as if the whole scenario had been pre-planned.

“We’ve been taking reservations for weeks, and space is limited,” Daniel said. “Your employers will just be angry that they didn’t receive sufficient notice and everybody will end up unhappy. What if we plan for a second, larger job fair at a later date?”

“I think you’ll find that the sentient resources departments of Frunge employers are quicker on their feet than you believe,” Czeros said.

“I called in a favor with the Empire Convention Center last month and persuaded them to sell a scheduled event to Flower in order to clear capacity on your scheduled date,” Crute said. “I can promise you that, as far as Dollnicks are concerned, we won’t send recruiters from every world with job openings. Each of the princes with an interest in hiring Humans will send an agent, but I don’t expect over a dozen booths.”

“Our mining worlds will club together for a single large booth,” Bork said. “The truth is, the Human labor supply has peaked sooner than any of us expected. Employers have begun increasing benefits packages beyond tunnel network requirements to compete for seasoned workers coming off of completed contracts.”

“I didn’t realize there was a worker shortage,” Daniel said. “The last I knew, employers on alien worlds were worried about their human workers going native. I heard the employers started opening museums of Earth culture to try to keep people connected with their roots.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of dual-use technology?” Crute asked. “It’s true that nobody wants to see Humans wandering around with an extra pair of arms surgically grafted to their torsos or an abomination of a crest on their skulls, but our princes could have simply banned those individuals from their worlds. The point of the museums and changes to the required educational curricula is to encourage Humans to remain and raise a new generation of workers.”

“It comes down to demographics and changing emigration patterns,” Aleeytis explained to Daniel. “Last year was the first time since the Stryx opened Earth that the number of Humans accepting service in the Empire of a Hundred Worlds fell below the number leaving. For the time being, natural increase is more than making up the difference, but the trickle of retired Humans moving home to Earth has grown into a modest flow.”

“By natural increase, you mean the children of contract workers are staying on,” Daniel surmised.

“Yes, though as you pointed out, we’re also competing with CoSHC members as a destination for workers completing their first contract. But ultimately, the dispatch that kept the messenger pigeon from getting airborne was the establishment of Earth Two.”

“What was that about pigeons?”

“The straw that broke the camel’s back,” Czeros interpreted. “Thanks to the rules that the Alts insisted on for Earth Two, essentially turning it into a tech-ban world, the Vergallians, who host the largest number of Human workers on tech-ban worlds of their own, are seeing the biggest impact.”

“We aren’t here to complain about Humans making their own choices,” Crute said. “Your communities on our open worlds are growing rapidly and contributing to the economy, often taking responsibility for old manufacturing operations which Dollnicks see as less challenging or only marginally profitable. But from the point of view of our colleagues, I see where it can be frustrating to train up hundreds of millions of Human workers only to have the cream of the crop headhunted by sovereign human communities.”

Daniel thought for a moment before replying. “It’s true that the laborers your employers recruit on Earth need to be trained for your factories, mines, and agricultural worlds, and you do pay for their transport, but that’s why contracts are so long.”

“To us, it’s barely long enough to evaluate who has the aptitude for advanced training or promotion to management,” Ptew said, finally joining the conversation. “And you can add space construction workers and mercenaries to your list of occupations.”

“We understand that Humans see a fifteen or twenty-year commitment as being a significant percentage of their working life, but your CoSHC members have been actively poaching on our worlds,” Aleeytis said. “Vergallian Intelligence has identified a number of independent traders who have a way of showing up just before large contract expirations, say those involving ten thousand or more laborers, and passing out literature about opportunities in different CoSHC communities.”

“I didn’t know that was going on,” Daniel said. “But I’m sure you can understand our people wanting to live under their own governments.”

“But that’s just it, most of them don’t. They go to Earth Two where the Alts are in charge, or to an open world where your sovereign communities have no say in what goes on outside the Eruv.”

“That last word didn’t translate for me.”

“It’s a Vergallian legal term for a symbolic border,” Aleeytis explained. “On our new open worlds, Human communities set up tall poles around their holdings and run a wire along the tops to proclaim that they follow their own laws within.”

“All right, I take your points,” Daniel said. “Try to remember that I’m not the emperor of CoSHC, I’m just the guy who gets stuck with the bills. Let me get my ad hoc committee on an emergency conference call tomorrow and see where they stand.”

“Remember to tell them we’ll pay all of the job fair expenses,” Crute said. “I’ve found that offering money is highly effective with Humans.”

Seven

“Where’s Lancelot?” Dorothy asked Myst when the Gem girl slumped into her chair at the 3D modeling station.

“He’s busy with the computers at the Open University lab again. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with males.”

“Because they like games?”

“He’s playing with something that has to do with assertional reasoning for weak memory.”

“What does that mean?” Dorothy asked.

“I don’t know,” Myst said in frustration. “It was all X’s and Y’s and sequential consistency in executing threads. He may as well have been speaking Verlock.”

“Something about that sounds familiar but I can’t place it. Maybe it’s just a guy thing, like Kevin, Paul, and my dad always talking fuel pack depletion rates.”

“I’m beginning to think he’d rather spend time with that stupid computer than with me.”

“Have you caught him looking at other Gem?” Dorothy asked.

“Why would he do that? We’re all identical.”

“I forget about the whole cloning thing sometimes. Is this about the new release he’s preparing for our in-stock ordering system? I remember Dietro telling me there was an error last month when two customers on different Stryx stations placed orders for the same pair of shoes that got processed at exactly the same time when we only had one pair in stock.”

“I’m not sure,” Myst said. “I just know I don’t like the feeling I have to compete with a machine for Lancelot’s attention. He used to follow me around like a puppy.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Dorothy said. “You wouldn’t want to be married to a guy who worships the ground you walk on.”

“Why not?”

“The two of you are making me crazy,” Baa said, looking up from the workbench where she was enchanting scrolls to allow teleportation in LARPing space as bonus gifts for buyers of five-feather bags-of-holding. “Don’t you ever talk about anything other than males and jewelry?”

“But I’ve wanted to become a jewelry designer ever since I was a little Gem,” Myst said. “The two of us had a plan to provide one-stop shopping for princesses. Dorothy was going to create the gowns and shoes, and I was going to do tiaras, necklaces, bracelets, rings, brooches—”

“The poor princess who buys from you won’t be able to walk because she’ll be so weighed down with precious metals and gemstones,” the Terragram mage interrupted. “You come from a species that limited itself to clones of a single individual for thousands of years. Where did you get the obsession with princesses?”

“Picture books,” Myst explained. “Dorothy’s grandmother used to send them to us from Earth in the diplomatic pouch.”

“I looked through the designs on your workstation and some of your ideas aren’t half bad, but nobody is going to give a teenage Gem her weight in gold to play with, much less all of the natural diamonds and gemstones you’re using.”

“I always sign out of the 3D modeling station and my files are voice recognition protected,” Myst said.

“…and my files are voice recognition protected,” Baa repeated, her imitation so spot on that neither girl needed to ask whether it could fool the workstation’s security. “And it’s not me you should be worried about, it’s Jeeves.”

“I think it’s weird how the success of the nanofabric fitting franchises has made him even more careful about money,” Dorothy said. “You’d think he’d be happy to back Myst’s jewelry, especially with all the programming work Lance does to support the franchisees.”

“The reason Jeeves is paying more attention is because SBJ Fashions is starting to make serious money. I don’t think either of you are fully cognizant of the limits the Stryx place on themselves to keep the tunnel network economy running smoothly. Do you think that there’s any element in the periodic table they couldn’t directly create from energy, including the gold that figures so prominently in your princess jewelry?”

“But if Jeeves can make gold he can give it to me and my jewelry wouldn’t cost him anything,” Myst said happily.

“You’re missing the point. Business is the glue that holds the tunnel network together, and if Jeeves started injecting mountains of gold into the system, how would that affect all of the miners, the manufacturers who make mining equipment, the communities and space habitats where they live? The Stryx generate their wealth by renting space on their stations, charging for tunnel transits, Stryxnet usage, and licensing certain technologies like ship controllers that are necessary to the smooth running of interstellar travel.”

“But what does that have to do with Jeeves getting tight-fisted now that we’re making more money than ever?” Dorothy asked. “He always complained about my new ideas but he paid up in the end. A few gems and a little gold is nothing compared to what we paid that Verlock scientist to license the technology for our dancing shoes or to finance nanofabric for the franchisees. Unless—are you saying he’s broke?”

“No, I’m saying that he’s finally growing up as an entrepreneur,” Baa said. “Jeeves can always borrow money from his elders, but now he’s experiencing the challenges of achieving scale. SBJ Fashions was a profitable business even before I began working here, but in a small way, with limited growth potential in a crowded niche market. Now we could end up with franchises on thousands of worlds before the competition catches up. It’s what’s called a first-mover advantage.”

“So you’re saying that Jeeves doesn’t want to be bothered with something new that doesn’t have that kind of potential,” Dorothy said.

“I’m saying you have to remember that Jeeves is young, an infant in Stryx terms, and he originally got into the auction business with Shaina and Brinda as a lark. Then you came along and they started SBJ Fashions to produce your designs, and it was a new game for him. But now the numbers are moving in the direction of a business that needs to be taken seriously, so he’s trying to act like a grownup artificial intelligence.”

“But jewelry is a real business,” Myst protested.

“Not jewelry for princesses,” Baa told her. “As I said, your designs aren’t half bad. If you ask Jeeves for a budget to start producing them in silver settings with artificial gemstones, he’ll likely give you the go-ahead, even though you’re only working part-time. The only other…”

“Only other what?” Dorothy prompted when the mage trailed off and turned away.

“Do you know a way he’ll let me buy the materials for the designs I’ve already created?” Myst asked. After the Terragram failed to respond, the teenage clone added, “Can I get you anything from the breakroom? Coffee? Cream for Geb?”

There was an audible purr from somewhere in the vicinity of Baa’s workbench, and the mage sighed. “Cream. Pay first.”

When the Gem returned with a saucer of cream for the Chatulbezeq, Baa set aside her work again and took a small wooden box shaped like a miniature treasure chest out of a drawer. “What do you make of these?” she asked.

Myst set the saucer on the floor, took the little box, and lifted the lid. “They’re gold rings, or bands. You couldn’t design a simpler piece of jewelry. Why do you have them?”

“Because I’m a soft touch for heartfelt pleading and a large payment in virtual gold,” Baa said. “The Union Station team from the professional LARPing league hired me to enchant these rings so that the players will always be able to locate each other in the dark.”

“Are you suggesting I melt them down and use the gold? It doesn’t seem honest.”

 “If I didn’t know you were a clone I’d swear that you and Dorothy were separated at birth. You share a gift for always jumping to the wrong conclusion. I’m suggesting you rebrand your princess jewelry for LARPing. The fact that you work in sets is ideal. I can put lesser enchantments on the individual pieces that are multiplied when the full set is assembled.”

“Why wouldn’t the players just buy the full set in the LARPing store or wherever?”

“It doesn’t work that way, except for the in-game auction for gear that players don’t need, and that’s not allowed on the professional level,” Baa explained. “They’ll need to put the set together one piece at a time, like a quest chain. In fact, the league might be willing to sponsor some epic jewelry for the upcoming season if you make a compelling presentation.”

“I don’t get it,” Dorothy said, her eyes on Geb, who had materialized as a black cat while lapping the cream. “There have to be more real princesses wandering around the galaxy than demand for epic sets of jewelry in Live Action Role Playing. Affie is a princess, and so is Aabina.”

“Your social circle is the exception to the rule, and you’re still missing the point. Dietro,” Baa called to the Vergallian sales manager who had just entered the designer’s room. “Explain to these two creative types how we’d benefit from convincing the professional LARPing league to include a matched set of SBJ Fashions enchanted jewelry in the gameplay for the coming season.”

“Is it a done deal?” Dietro demanded. “I’ll have to put together a catalog supplement for the boutiques. Myst, get me the artwork of the pieces you’re including. No, better yet, get me the prototypes and I’ll take care of the imaging. I better start studying up on the competition.”

“Halt right there,” Baa thundered. The departing sales manager froze in his tracks as if they were in LARPing space and she had just hit him with a paralysis spell. “We haven’t made the deal yet. I want you to explain the business model to Myst and Dorothy.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” the Vergallian said. “I’ve never worked in the jewelry business but I know that there are one-of-a-kind pieces and there are standard sets. The standard sets are where the real money is made because the market is a million times bigger. Marketing standard jewelry is a nightmare, though. To get any sales, you’d have to pay some famous beauty to wear the stuff, probably even name it after her, and that only works for one species at a time.”

“So if Myst creates a set of epic jewelry for the LARPing season and Baa enchants it, the league will make sure a beautiful female is the one who wins?” Dorothy asked.

“They’re both particularly dense today,” Baa told the sales manager.

“Product placement is the exception to the famous-beauty rule,” Dietro explained. “Like, if there’s a drama where the heart of the conflict between two warring queens is a piece of heirloom jewelry, you can be sure that every fan girl in the empire is going to want to own a replica. The same thing should be true for the professional LARPing league. We know it works on a smaller scale for Baa’s Bags, but the cost means that those are primarily bought by women who intend to use them in Live Action Role Playing. The jewelry could be priced competitively but we’ll have a huge advantage because of the product placement marketing.”

“You make my designs sound like a commodity,” Myst complained.

“Don’t you want to see them manufactured in quantity? Would you rather know that there’s a princess on some backwater world halfway across the galaxy who taxed her subjects into starvation to buy one unique set from you, or be out at a restaurant and see a tunnel network member, maybe even a Gem, wearing something you designed?”

“I never thought of it that way. It would be the thrill of a lifetime to be out somewhere and see a sentient I didn’t even know wearing jewelry I created.”

“Then pick out your best set—no, have Baa pick it out—and I’ll start working on my pitch to the LARPing league,” Dietro said. “And tell Shaina and Brinda that—no, they aren’t here. Has anybody seen Jeeves?”

“I think he’s hiding,” Dorothy said. “I haven’t seen him all week, though Flazint said he was in here poking through the design room supplies a few days ago.”

There was an audible pop from the back of the room and a shiny barrel-shaped robot with a single pincer appeared floating over the deck. “My name detector triggered,” Jeeves announced. “Is it important, or can I get back to policing a possibly rogue AI with designs on a civilization still in its stone age?”

“It’s important,” Dorothy told him. “We want to approach the LARPing league about including an epic set of enchanted jewelry in their storyline this coming season. Dietro can’t just ping them without management approval.”

“Epic jewelry sounds like a euphemism for costly. Very costly.”

“You know how much ad time on the station display panels costs,” Dietro said. “Any of the broadcast channels are worse, and even the Galactic Free Press charges big creds for luxury ads because so many people block them. We’re talking about a product placement that could be worth millions of creds in free publicity over the course of the season.”

“A product placement for which we lack the capacity to manufacture the product,” Jeeves countered. “If the princesses among us can rein themselves in and come up with a line of modestly priced jewelry that can be produced and sold in quantity, I’ll look into timetables with our current manufacturing partners. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” There was another audible pop, and the young Stryx was gone.

“I keep telling him that his disappearing act would have more impact if he added a puff of smoke or a shrinking dimension effect,” Baa said.

“Did Jeeves just agree?” Myst asked. “I lost him on reigning princesses.”

“It’s a bad pun,” Dorothy explained. “Royals reign, riders control their horses with reins. Jeeves has been making bad jokes about homophones, words that sound the same and are spelled differently, ever since EarthCent found out that somebody is selling EarthScent candles.”

“He had a good point about manufacturing,” Dietro said. “The trick with product placement marketing is that the timing is in the hands of the producers, the professional LARPing league in this case. We can’t tell them to postpone a competition because we don’t have enough bracelets or earrings inspired by the epic matching set to sell.”

“It won’t be very epic if a factory can churn out cheap copies,” Myst objected.

“They won’t be exact copies, just close enough that the association is obvious.”

“Are you talking about costume jewelry?” the Gem practically wailed.

“Definitely not,” Dietro said. “Gold will still be gold if you keep the mass low, but if you have to use gems, natural diamonds and rubies could be replaced with synthetic ones. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to target a top price point around the same as Baa’s least expensive bags since we already have some experience with customers and retailers in that market. But let me do some research on the competition and get back to you.”

Myst looked over at Dorothy, and then back at her 3D modeling workstation. “I’m not sure any of my Princess Line would be ideal for that,” she admitted. “I haven’t really thought about trying to make low-cost jewelry.”

“You need to come LARPing with us next time we go,” Dorothy said. “Maybe Stick can talk the league into letting us into the sandbox for next season for a sneak preview so you can get a look at the overall aesthetic. If we make it into a work outing, Flazint and Tzachan will thank you because they can come together and it won’t count as a date.”

“I’ll get us in,” Dietro said confidently. “But if we’re going to do it before the job fair, you better get your hiring preparation done or Jeeves may change his mind. Speaking of which,” he added, turning to Baa, “has Geb had any luck on the travel concourse spotting potential apprentices?”

“He got bored,” the Terragram mage said. She tickled behind the ears of the Chatulbezeq who had finished lapping up the cream and remained visible for the time being.

Geb purred something, and for a fleeting moment, Baa actually appeared to be surprised.

“What is it?” Dorothy asked.

“He says that my future apprentice has just begun the journey to Union Station so there’s no point watching yet.”

“If Geb can predict the future, ask him what length hems will be next season,” Dietro said. “Or color schemes. What are the hot colors going to be?”

“After thousands of years on Earth speaking through fortune tellers, Geb has overspecialized in predicting the arrival of mysterious strangers,” Baa said. “He doesn’t do fashion trends, financial markets, or race results.”

 “So that leaves you, Dorothy. How much progress have you made creating a sewing test for hiring seamstresses?”

“I’m about halfway there,” the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter replied. “I’m thinking of doing a short aptitude test at the booth and then having people come in for time trials if management decides they want to employ full-time stitchers. There’s a big difference between sewing at home with pinned patterns and learning to mark and hold the fabric for a machine without using pins.”

“See if you can get Flower to send you some treadle-powered sewing machines,” Dietro said. “We’ve been able to market her production as second-tier handmade which carries a premium with the advanced species. Our customer surveys suggest that some Humans are starting to come around to it as well.”

“How can machine-sewn fashions be any-tier handmade?”

“Flower’s sewing machines are hand-powered, or foot-powered, with the treadle. Everybody has different ways of scoring these things. With Vergallians, rather than talking about the percentage of hand-made content, we grade manufactured goods by the level of machine input. The lowest score is full automation, followed by automation with biological machine operators, then automation with artificial intelligence, then machines powered by manual labor, like we were just—”

“Wait a minute,” Dorothy interrupted. “Did you just say that products made with machines run by AI are further from full automation than if the machines were operated by people?”

“Of course. It’s natural for artificial intelligence to use machines in production.”

“But I thought that when artificial people do manual labor, the products are still considered handmade. Why should AI get a bonus when it runs an automated production line?”

“It’s in recognition of the fact that the production line becomes a sort of extension of the artificial intelligence’s body,” Dietro explained. “That’s not the same as artificial people running manual powered equipment, like treadle sewing machines.”

Dorothy frowned. “I remember Thomas telling me he worked as a waiter and a bunch of other service-industry jobs before being hired by EarthCent Intelligence, but I think that had to do with the limitations of his first body. Why would an artificial person ever want to run a manually powered machine?”

“Because second-tier handmade is still handmade and priced accordingly.  I can think of a dozen scenarios where an artificial person would choose to do manual labor, including piecework for SBJ Fashions. They don’t require sleep, you know.”

“It’s still a weird system,” Dorothy muttered.

“Have you forgotten who makes the rules on the tunnel network?” Baa asked. “If it was me, magically produced products would have the option of being labeled handmade instead of PICTE’s.”

“What’s that?”

“Physical Instances Created Through Enchantment. If you’re wondering why you’ve never seen any, it’s because with a label like that, they don’t sell.”

Eight

“Are you sure the muslin will be good enough?” Joe asked his wife. “I can practically see through this stuff.”

“Srythlan pinged Dorothy and told her what exactly to bring us,” Kelly said. She clipped her end of the loose cotton fabric to the wire Joe had temporarily strung around head height to bisect the patio and stood back to inspect the job. “I can understand why he’d want privacy when informally discussing business matters with Aisha, but why not meet in her house?”

“I’ll never be able to think of that old habitat as a house, and it probably comes down to Verlock notions of propriety. He must have asked us to be here on the other side for a reason.”

Beowulf began thumping his tail on the deck and sounded a single deep and strangely drawn-out note.

“Is that his Srythlan howl?” Kelly asked.

“It’s about time you recognized it,” Joe said. “He’s been doing unique barks for all of the ambassadors the last ten years.”

“Context helps. We’re expecting Srythlan.”

A woman in her early forties with nut-brown skin wearing a formal sari ducked under the muslin curtain that now divided the patio in two and glanced around. “Have you seen Steve?” Aisha asked.

“Margie dragged him off to help in Dring’s gardens,” Joe said. “You know what a little dictator she is. If you don’t send the boy to summer camp she’ll fill up his days.”

“I remember Dorothy being that way when she was four or five,” Aisha said with a smile. “But I’m afraid Margie is going to have to do without so much of her big cousin’s company starting next week because I signed him up for the Junior Station Scouts. Steve turning five and starting Libby’s school last year was one of the things that got me thinking seriously about funding a camp where children could interact with members of other species. The aliens all take school too seriously to experiment with mixed classes.”

“Libby’s school accepts everybody,” Kelly said.

“There’s a difference between holding the doors open and getting parents to let their children enter. I’ve talked with Libby about it and the only aliens she’s had were a few Gem and Alts—the latter just in the last year.”

“I wish I knew how Beowulf does that,” Joe said as the Verlock ambassador shuffled into view. “He can’t see the entrance from where he’s sprawled out, and no matter how good his nose, it takes more than a few seconds for airborne molecules to cross an open space.”

“Are you sure the ambassador insisted on meeting with me privately?” Aisha asked. “Even if the divider is only symbolic it implies that we have something to hide.”

“I got the impression that Srythlan is worried about the letter of the law,” Kelly said. “The muslin must meet some arcane requirement for separation of private and diplomatic meetings. We’ll be right here working on the Galactic Free Press crossword if you need anything.”

“It’s more likely we’ll be the ones who need something,” Joe said with a laugh. “The title of the crossword is Seven Wonders of India.”

“The Taj Mahal has to be one,” Aisha told him.

“The title clues are never literal,” Kelly explained. “Can you think of a nine-letter word starting with an “F” that has a “u” in the fourth position and makes you wary?”

“Fenugreek,” Aisha said and ducked back under the muslin to the other side where she was still plainly visible and easily heard. “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts. Maybe the puzzle is referring to the Seven Spices of India.”

“It can’t be. I’ve been working on this since breakfast and I think I would have noticed Indian spices with all of the cooking you do. How about an eight-letter word ending in “m” that means confirming a queen regent’s age?”

“Cardamom,” the host of Let’s Make Friends replied from the other side of the curtain.

“Card-a-mom,” Kelly groaned. “That one was driving me nuts.”

“Srythlan,” Joe greeted the approaching Verlock. The ambassador acknowledged the welcome with a barely perceptible nod and shuffled past the muslin divider to get to the other side. The EarthCent ambassador and her husband heard the alien greet Aisha, and then, improbably, ask for a few minutes to catch his breath.

“What do you think that was all about?” Kelly asked Joe in a whisper.

“Must be related in some way to the business with the muslin,” he said. “Hey, Aisha opened up the whole puzzle for us. How many other spices have you used so far?”

“None?” Kelly searched the sprinkling of words she’d filled in and shook her head. “The two Aisha gave us are it.”

“So we can reverse engineer the puzzle,” Joe said. “What are the other must-have spices? We can guess at them and then find a clue that matches.”

“Well, turmeric has to be one, but I’ve read all of the clues and nothing—I don’t believe it!”

“What?”

“Redhead’s roots,” Kelly said. “It’s sixteen down and it fits.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“Turmeric is a flowering plant. Rinla pointed it out to me the time we went to the Frunge garden club and they had us identifying plants.”

“Not helping,” Joe told her.

“The flower is in the ginger family and the spice is from the roots,” Kelly explained. “Ginger is also slang for a redhead.”

“Does Walter make up these crossword clues? If so, I—”

Beowulf drowned out Joe’s probable threat with a baying howl.

“Is that for somebody in particular?” Kelly asked.

“The Grenouthian ambassador,” Joe replied. “When’s the last time he showed up here without letting us know first?”

“I think I’m beginning to smell a big fat muslin rat.” Kelly couldn’t help smiling wryly at the memory of all of the wheeling and dealing the ambassadors had done in Mac’s Bones over the decades. “What’s another Indian spice?”

 “Is clove from India?” Joe asked.

“A fragrant way to see love,” Kelly said immediately, and swiped at her tab to erase a previous entry. “I thought it was cocoa.”

“Cocoa?”

“They’re both five letters, start with ‘C’, and everybody knows that love and chocolate are two sides of the same coin.”

“Ambassador,” Joe rose to greet the Grenouthian. “If you’re looking for—”

“The less said the better,” the ambassador grunted, holding his paw over Joe’s mouth until the ex-mercenary nodded his understanding. “I just thought I would drop by and see what my favorite Human ambassador is doing on her day of rest. Crosswords?”

“The Seven Spices of India,” Kelly told him. “We’ve got four done already, and…” she trailed off when she noticed that both of the alien’s long furry ears had rotated to point directly where the Verlock ambassador and the host of Let’s Make Friends were sitting on the other side of the curtain.

“So,” Srythlan’s voice boomed, even louder than its usual volume. “I delivered your initial response to the Association of Children’s Academies and they are looking forward to working with you.”

“Thank you,” Aisha said. “I have great respect for the Verlock educational system, and if it weren’t for Libby’s experimental school, I would have looked into sending my children to an academy. But as you suggested, I read through the last contract I negotiated with the Grenouthian Network. I was surprised to find that the subject of camps is addressed in subsidiary rights.”

“Would you remember the exact wording?” Srythlan inquired.

“I have a copy right here on the tab.”

“Pepper?” Joe suggested while the Verlock ambassador was reading on the other side of the muslin. “That might be an Indian spice.”

“Cumin,” the Grenouthian ambassador said.

“A cousin’s confiscated wages,” Kelly said gleefully.

“Because a ‘cousin’ has the ‘c’, ‘u’, and ‘in’ all lined up?” Joe asked in disbelief. “That’s not a clue.”

“Confiscated wages are garnished, and a garnish is parsley. Cumin is in the parsley family so they’re cousins of a sort.”

“Does that make sense to you?” Joe asked the Grenouthian.

“Botanic relationships are common clues in word puzzles,” the alien replied. “I gather you’re attempting the Seven Wonders of India from the Galactic Free Press.”

“You do crosswords?”

“We have a betting pool on—” the ambassador cut himself off and raised a paw to request silence as the Verlock began speaking again.

“We can’t do anything without the Grenouthian Network signing off,” Srythlan said. “It’s a pity that day camps and leadership workshops weren’t included in the amended clause for physical merchandise.”

Aisha sighed. “It just didn’t occur to me that it would ever come up. Now I remember my Thark agent asking if I wanted to push for more control of unexercised subsidiary rights but I was too focused on the action figures and the coloring books.”

“That’s how contract renegotiations always go. The party who’s working to redress prior issues tries to appear reasonable by not insisting on changing other language that’s never even come into play.”

“If the Grenouthian Network is in for fifty percent of the gross it will double the cost of camp without adding anything of value for the children,” Aisha said. “I’m still interested in using my foundation to fund camps, but maybe your Association of Children’s Academies will have to take center stage for branding and promotion.”

“Broccoli,” the Grenouthian ambassador declared loudly.

“It’s not a spice,” Kelly said.

“I was just recalling a conversation I had with Maker Dring some years back about his vegetable garden. There are a number of interesting plants from Earth that have worked their way into our vegetarian cuisine, one of my favorites of which is broccoli. I remember being quite astounded when Dring informed me that Human children often refuse to eat it.”

“I think they don’t like the texture. Dorothy wasn’t a fan.”

“It probably didn’t help that we told her to eat it because it was good for her,” Joe said. “Children like food that tastes good.”

“And not just Human children,” the Grenouthian continued, speaking directly at the figures on the other side of the muslin curtain. “Verlocks are notorious on the tunnel network for making decisions based on a careful analysis of the facts, even from a young age. But try getting a Dollnick child to eat her vegetables when there are already Sheezle bugs on the table and you’ll get a very Human response.”

Kelly noticed that the alien ambassador was making a circling motion with his paw bent at the wrist, almost like a director prompting an actor to improvise more dialogue. She racked her brain for a moment, but the only response she could manage was, “The funny thing is that Dorothy never complained about the lunches at Libby’s school, and you know those had to be healthy.”

“It’s interesting that you bring that up because I have a feeling that the Stryx may be willing to make space available for experimental educational models at no charge,” the Grenouthian said. “It seems like a perfect opportunity to beta test multi-species learning camps for children, but of course, it’s tricky getting the children of some species to sign up for anything that’s good for them.”

Srythlan cleared his throat on the other side of the muslin curtain and the Grenouthian ambassador patted down the air with both paws to tell Kelly and Joe to hold their thoughts.

“The idea of starting a chain of camps with participants from different species isn’t a new one for the Association of Children’s Academies,” the Verlock ambassador told Aisha. “We’ve tried on several occasions, but our reputation in education works against us when it comes to children on school break. It’s a shame that the Principal Parties clause in your contract prevents us from holding a three-way meeting to see if we can get around the subsidiary rights issue.”

“You’re worried that without the Let’s Make Friends branding, no alien children will want to come to your camps?” Aisha asked.

“With sufficient spending on promotion, that obstacle could be overcome, but I’ve seen an estimate that the amount required would be a double-digit percentage of the overall cost of running the camps. If only the fifty percent the Grenouthians enshrined in your contract was closer to five percent, it would just be a cost of doing business.”

“I should ask my producer if they’d feel differently about sharing the rights with a nonprofit business.”

“Ambassador McAllister mentioned your interest in running the camps on a nonprofit basis but I told her that our academies work to instill business values in children from an early age,” Srythlan said. “Did she forget to mention it to you?”

“Maybe she told me and I wasn’t paying attention,” Aisha said generously.

“I believe you have enough experience with the Grenouthians to know that they’ll consider the term ‘nonprofit business’ to be an oxymoron of the highest degree. I understand that you want your foundation money to be used for charitable purposes rather than to bulk up the coffers of private investors but perhaps you can think of it as paying for performance.”

“Fair trade,” the Grenouthian ambassador said to Kelly in a seeming non sequitur. “Didn’t I hear there was a social movement on Earth where people from rich countries purchased spices and other food items from poor countries under special agreements that made sure the money went to the producers and not middlemen?”

“It must have been before my time,” Kelly replied. “Rural people from the poor countries were the first to sign up for alien labor contracts in large numbers. Are you thinking that the remaining two spices were fair traded? I’ll check the clues again.”

“The Stryx opening Earth provides an excellent example of radically changed circumstances impacting contracts that were made in goodwill,” the Grenouthian ambassador continued. “If the number of rural farmers collapsed, their production must have plummeted, and demand would have caused market prices to rise beyond what the fair trade agreements stipulated. In such a case, it would be reasonable for the senior party to consider amending the contract so that it still served both sides.”

“Speaking of serving both sides, one man’s soap is another man’s citrus,” Kelly said. “Nine letters with ‘and’ in the middle.”

“Coriander.”

“Really?” She looked at the spaces in the crossword. “It fits!”

“That’s the spice I told you tastes like soap,” Joe said. “It’s a genetic thing. Samuel wouldn’t eat it either.”

“If you approach the network to reopen the contract, I think you might find them amenable,” Srythlan loudly informed Aisha on the other side of the muslin. “The important thing is to offer something in return rather than simply asking them to give up their contractual rights because it will support a good cause. The association I’m representing does have a budget for promoting the camp to the appropriate audiences, and it seems to me that commercial time on your show would be the ideal match.”

“But the advertising time on Let’s Make Friends is extremely expensive,” Aisha said. “I should know, as it’s the indirect source of most of my foundation’s funding.”

“And perhaps a commitment to purchase a fixed amount of that expensive advertising would be acceptable to the network as an offset to drop their subsidiary rights claim for using the brand with camps.”

“Will the Human Empire be operating a booth at the job fair?” the Grenouthian ambassador asked loudly, causing the EarthCent ambassador to look up from the crossword in surprise.

“I know that Samuel contacted Daniel and asked for space,” Kelly said. “They’re still hiring for their school of government, and unemployed people don’t last long on Flower.”

“Does she kick them off the ship?”

“Worse. She gives them jobs.”

“Speaking of jobs, I imagine a potential source of counselors for a hypothetical Let’s Make Friends camp would be the tens of billions of children who grew up watching the show,” the Grenouthian ambassador said. “Of course, I expect by their teens they’ve moved on to other forms of entertainment hosted on the same network, like the professional LARPing league.”

“Cinnamon sticks,” Srythlan bellowed from the other side of the curtain.

“Are you asking for some?” Aisha asked. “I have plenty in the kitchen.”

“I was thinking that if I was ever working on a crossword puzzle where Indian spices were involved, cinnamon sticks would be high on my list,” the Verlock said. “I understand that cinnamon is an adult taste among many species, and there’s something to be said for demographic targeting when you’re running any sort of ad campaign.” There was the sound of a chair being pushed back as the Verlock rose ponderously to his feet. “Well, I have to be getting back to my embassy, but I would suggest contacting the Grenouthian ambassador and requesting that he broach the subject of contract alterations with the network. Don’t forget that he was the one who originally pitched them the show, and I believe his points in the production have made a handsome contribution to his family’s coffers.”

“Cinnamon,” Kelly said, happily tapping on her tab. “Look, Joe. It’s all starting to come together.”

“I’m just going to hop inside for a moment,” the Grenouthian ambassador said, and then disappeared up the ramp into the ice harvester almost as fast as Beowulf in his younger years.

The Verlock ambassador appeared a few seconds later to take his leave. “Thank you for inviting me,” he said to Kelly and Joe. “I had a productive meeting with Aisha and I hope the camp project is now on track.”

“Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?” Joe asked.

“Another time,” Srythlan said. “I have a holo-conference scheduled with some academy heads and it pays to be on time for that sort of thing.”

As soon as the Verlock was out of earshot, the Grenouthian ambassador reappeared. “Where’s Aisha?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Kelly said. “She was on the other side of the curtain a minute ago.”

“That’s served its purpose and can come down now. I’ll help you with it, Joe.”

By the time the EarthCent ambassador’s husband and the Grenouthian got the cotton rolled up, Aisha reappeared with a tray of fresh sliced fruit and a bowl of dipping honey.

“Ambassador,” she addressed the Grenouthian. “Was that your voice I heard earlier?”

“I just arrived,” he replied without batting an eye. “Ambassador McAllister, if you don’t mind my being a poor guest, I came to have a few words in private with Aisha. There’s no time like the present.”

“Just let me grab a few apple slices,” Joe said, taking one in each hand from the tray. “I’m good now. Take her away.”

Kelly shook her head as the host of Let’s Make Friends and the Grenouthian ambassador disappeared into Baa’s old habitat that Paul and Aisha had repurposed as a house. “I’m a bit surprised that he would tell an outright lie like that after he and Srythlan went to such lengths to get around some silly contract stipulation.”

“What lie was that?”

“When Aisha asked, he said he just arrived.”

“He did just arrive,” Joe said. “He was in the ice harvester, and when he came out, he arrived on the patio.”

“Do you think they resolved all of their issues?” Kelly asked. “I was only half paying attention because I wanted to get the crossword done in time to submit for the prize.”

“I’d say they established a reasonable basis that will give the Grenouthian ambassador the ammunition he needs to convince the network to renegotiate Aisha’s contract. I’ll have to remember the curtain trick if I’m ever in a similar situation.”

“I can’t believe it would be accepted as a legal defense if somebody signed a non-disclosure agreement,” Kelly said, and looked up at the bay doors over Mac’s Bones.  “Libby?”

“Yes, Ambassador.”

“Was that business about the Stryx offering free space for educational use your contribution to making Let’s Make Friends camp a reality?”

“You know I can’t answer that sort of question one way or the other.”

“How about a five-letter word starting with “K” that’s never dull?”

“Katar. It’s an Indian dagger.”

“Are you sure?” Kelly asked. Then it struck her that the station librarian always refused to help with crossword puzzles if the competition hadn’t been won yet. “Why are you telling me?”

“Ambassador Srythlan submitted the finished puzzle to the Galactic Free Press when he entered the lift tube. It’s his eighth win this year, and it puts him one ahead of the Grenouthian ambassador.”

Nine

“I can’t believe I’m attending a meeting with my own son,” Shaina said as she placed a tray with juice and pastries in front of Mike and Fenna. “Now I know what Kelly feels like.”

“I bet Samuel’s mother lets him drink coffee in meetings,” Mike grumbled.

“Uncle Sam is ten years older than you,” Fenna said. “He’s already a father.”

“When did grandpa let you and my mom start drinking coffee?” Mike asked his aunt Brinda, who had brought out the coffee pot from the shared conference room’s kitchenette and was refreshing the cups on the table.

“I don’t remember,” Brinda lied. “Where’s the Conscience of CoSHC this morning?”

“Did you just make that up?” Daniel asked. “Ofer would probably be pleased.”

“That’s because he has less business sense in his head than the children do in their little fingers. And I didn’t make up the name. It’s what the members coming in to use the shared workspace have been calling him.”

“Ofer says that every decision needs to take into account the impact on society,” Fenna said. “He talks a lot about the Alts.”

“How much can he know about the Alts?” Shaina asked, taking the seat next to her husband. “He’s only been here for a month, and he spends most of his time in this office.”

“Ofer reads all the time,” Mike said, unclipping his student tab from his belt. “He sent me these materials.”

“Materials?” Shaina stretched across the conference room table to take the tab from her son and swiped through the recently added titles. “The Alt Sharing Economy. Mao’s Little Red Book. The Communist Manifesto?”

“The last two were so boring that I gave up after a few pages,” the young teen admitted. “I liked the one about the Alts, though.”

Daniel and Shaina exchanged a look, and the associate ambassador said, “I’ll talk to Ofer, but we need to finalize the job fair arrangements this morning so you and Brinda can complete the activities grid and get it sent to all of the members. They need to finalize their plans.”

“You want us to do the grid without Aabina?” Shaina asked in surprise.

“It was a trade-off,” Daniel said. “She’s the only one who can keep Ofer distracted. I asked her to introduce him to Affie so he could clear up some questions he has about Alt society. Hopefully, Aabina will dump him at the Vergallian embassy and get back in time to help.”

“I know I should make allowances for a boy who was raised in isolation by an alien artificial intelligence, but he wields questions like weapons,” Brinda said. “It’s frustrating to get stuck in a debate about the business ethics of the tunnel network every time I ask him to do something.”

“I like Ofer,” Mike said. “He asks me lots of questions about Union Station and he listens to the whole answer. Most of the visiting CoSHC members who ask me for directions start walking away before I finish.”

“That’s because you tell them every store they’re going to pass in the Little Apple,” Fenna said. “They know they won’t remember the whole thing so they want to get started before they forget which way to turn after leaving the office.”

“How many folds have been reserved so far?” Daniel asked.

“Ofer didn’t even know what folds are,” Mike said. “I had to explain to him that trade show space is measured in standard folding tables. Then he wanted to distribute their equity—”

“Redistribute them equitably,” Fenna interjected.

“—but Donna told him if she caught him changing any requests for space she’d cut off his access to the Empire Convention Center reservation system.”

“Is he really that bad?” Daniel asked, looking at his wife and sister-in-law, both of whom nodded. “All right. I’ll find him some busy work to do until the job fair. Once it starts, I’ll explain that he’s overqualified to be working as a glorified receptionist and suggest he take advantage of the timing to look for an opportunity to move up.”

“Or emigrate to Earth Two,” Shaina said. “Then he could admire the Alt sharing economy in person.”

“Two thousand and ninety-eight folds,” Fenna announced, in answer to Daniel’s earlier question. “Donna and Aabina put all of the aliens looking for contract workers in the Galaxy Room and all of the CoSHC members in the Meteor Room. Aabina said that she’s still working out the details of the simulcast with the Dollnick in charge.”

Daniel shook his head. “I still can’t believe Ofer committed us to the simulcast without asking me and that it turned out to be legally binding. I hope it doesn’t end up depressing attendance to the point that our members who reserved booth space won’t see enough potential hires to make their expenses worthwhile.”

“You told us that the ambassadors at your Contract Workers Committee committed the alien employers to cover all of the costs,” Shaina said.

“They did, but that’s just the expenses for the Empire Convention Center. Travel costs are up to the attendees.”

“Jeeves wasn’t happy about SBJ Fashions being relegated to the Nebula Room with the other Union Station and non-CoSHC employers,” Brinda said. “I’m aware that I have a conflict of interest here, but the Empire Convention Center has offered to remove the wall between the Meteor Room and the Nebula Room since we’re renting both of them. As long as we keep all of the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities booths together, I don’t see what harm it will do.”

“Nobody likes having to leave a room at a trade show and then go through the whole business with lines and passes to enter another room,” Shaina told her husband. “I know it’s not what you initially planned, but if you keep the wall, you could end up with a situation where people who are interested in CoSHC jobs accidentally start in the Nebula room and never even get to see your members.”

“The truth is, my ad hoc committee members were so happy they wouldn’t be on the hook paying for space that they told me to do whatever makes sense from our end,” Daniel said. “I just don’t like the feeling of losing control of the direction of our own job fair.”

“Then that’s settled,” Shaina said. “On the promotional front, the Galactic Free Press included my last press release about the job fair in a story about employment trends on open worlds, which got it past their ad filter. We just broke a hundred thousand preregistrations for in-person attendees.”

“How many of those are representing contract groups?” Daniel asked.

“Almost twenty thousand,” Brinda said, unable to suppress the excitement in her voice. “Can you imagine? If the average contract group represented includes five thousand workers, that’s a hundred million people the job fair has the potential to reach. It’s amazing that nobody has done anything like this before.”

“If you consider that there are around five billion humans and their dependents working on labor contracts, a hundred million is only two percent,” Daniel said. “But you’re right that it’s about time somebody gave the groups that are getting near the end of a contract a way to shop all of the opportunities available rather than extending in place or disbanding.”

“So why didn’t the aliens already do that?” Fenna asked.

“I suppose because they were competing with each other. Now that the labor supply has stopped growing, they’re willing to work together.”

“Ofer says that the aliens should build robots to do all of the work they don’t want to do rather than hiring us,” Mike said. “And something about going pro, like maybe all the people from Earth should play sports?”

“Are you sure it wasn’t proletariat?” Daniel asked.

“Right. But then he said something weird about loosening chains, and even I know that none of the tunnel network species would chain workers.”

“Ofer is a perfect example of what people back on Earth called an armchair intellectual,” Brinda explained. “He means well, but everything he knows is from books, and books never tell the full story. Walter was the same way when he first came to Union Station.”

“Uncle Walter?” Mike asked. “But he’s super smart. And Dad says he knows as much about business on the tunnel network as anybody.”

“When my husband is confronted with facts that don’t match his preconceptions he changes his mind,” Brinda said proudly. “That’s one of my favorite things about Walter. Most people use their intelligence to defend their cherished beliefs but Walter is willing to let the evidence make up his mind for him.”

The door connecting the shared conference room to the EarthCent embassy slid open, and Aabina entered, carrying a large model of what looked like a classic agricultural settlement. “Ambassador McAllister will be joining us in a few minutes,” the special assistant announced.

“Is that a farm game?” Fenna asked immediately. “Can I play?”

“It’s a display model for the Vergallian open worlds booth at the job fair,” Aabina explained. “Humans on my mother’s world made it, and she sent it to the Vergallian embassy in the diplomatic pouch. Two of the larger communities on our world are CoSHC members, but they’re still consolidating their holdings so they aren’t looking for new people.”

“Is your mother hiring?” Shaina asked.

“Accepting skilled immigrants, which is almost the same thing,” Aabina said. “She made a deal with the Council of Queens for them to show the model in their booth and to offer our world as an option to Humans who want to experience the Vergallian agrarian lifestyle without signing a contract for fifteen or twenty years.”

“It’s beginning to sound like a lot of species are counting on our job fair to produce leads,” Daniel said. “Is the labor supply that tight?”

“To some extent, it’s always tight, and the flexibility in the system comes from bringing mothballed automation online when necessary. Ofer was just telling me about a theory of surplus labor from Earth that sounded like it came from your early industrial era.”

“Probably Marx,” Daniel said. “Did he return with you?”

“Marx?”

“Ofer.”

“Now you’re making me as confused as he did,” Aabina said with a laugh. “No, I left him torturing poor Affie with questions about the Alt’s political economy, as Ofer put it. I haven’t known him long, but I think that Donna is right about that young man.”

“What did she say?” Shaina asked.

“That he needs a girlfriend. She gave him a free ticket for the next EarthCent mixer.”

“Any news on the simulcast?” Daniel asked.

“All set,” Aabina said. “They’re going to limit the cameras to the Galaxy Room unless we specifically request otherwise. And they’ve already collected funds from the tunnel network species looking to hire groups of human employees. The money will pay for an advertising blitz on the participating Stryx stations.”

“So they’re hoping to reach people who are on vacation?”

“It makes sense if you think about the numbers,” Shaina said. “You just brought up that half of humanity is either working on alien contracts or living with those workers as dependents. If one percent of them are on vacation at any time, that’s fifty million people, and if one percent of the vacationers happen to be transiting a Stryx station during the job fair, that’s fifty thousand chances for employers to get the word out to a large group of potential future employees.”

“Is this what all meetings are like?” Mike asked. “I thought there would be more holograms and less math.”

“A few graphs might have helped, but none of this is new information,” his father told him.

Kelly entered the conference room from the embassy lobby pointing at her ear to indicate that she was in the middle of a ping even as she walked. Then she dropped her hand and took the seat next to Fenna. “Have the two of you had enough of working for CoSHC?”

“Are you hiring?” Mike asked immediately. “I don’t think Dad is paying me enough for a technical expert.”

“We have Donna to do all of that,” Kelly said. “I just heard from the Grenouthian ambassador. He confirmed that the network has approved moving ahead with a Let’s Make Friends camp and he thinks it would be a good idea to have a booth at the job fair to take applications for counselors.”

“Oh, we can do that,” Fenna said. “Nobody knows more about Let’s Make Friends than me and Mike.”

“Will the Grenouthian network pay them?” Shaina asked.

“More than Daniel,” Kelly said with a smile.

“I have a question,” Mike said. “What are we going to tell the kids who want to be counselors about their work schedule?”

“I imagine that the test run on Union Station will be a day camp rather than stay away.”

“But the aliens all run different clocks, days, and school years than we do. When I was on Let’s Make Friends, the Grenouthians ran it on our time because Aisha is human. It was usually the middle of the night for a few of the cast members, and a couple of kids missed an hour or two of school.”

“That’s right,” Shaina said. “I remember a poor Dollnick boy who was practically falling asleep on the set at least once a week when you were in the cast rotation.”

“I completely forgot about that from when Samuel was on the show,” Kelly admitted. She produced her paperback notebook and opened it to the bookmark. “It doesn’t seem possible that Aisha, the Grenouthians, and the Verlocks would all have overlooked something so obvious, but I’ll ask.”

“I’m sure they’ll run the camp here on Human Standard Time,” Aabina said. “Dollnick boys aside, it’s much easier for the children of the non-Human tunnel network species to change their schedules. But if the Beta test is successful and they start opening camps on different worlds, they’ll adapt to the local clocks and seasons and the visiting campers will have to conform.”

“Why is it easier for the children of the other tunnel network species to adjust?” Brinda asked. “Is it because they’re all physically older than our children at the same level of emotional development?”

Aabina shook her head. “It’s generally true that the more advanced the species, the longer it takes for their children to mature. But in this case, the main factor is your Circadian rhythm, and that’s almost certainly why the Grenouthians agreed to run Aisha’s show on her clock. The rest of us have spread our populations over multiple planets for so long that natural selection has bred out the reliance on local stimuli to trigger sleep.”

“But what about the school year and vacations?” Kelly asked as she jotted down notes. “Now that you mention it, I remember Aisha explaining to me that the parents of alien cast members on her show were only willing to let their children miss an hour or two of school because our clocks and calendars are so out of sync that they wouldn’t be skipping the same class every day. But a sleepover camp means missing eight hours every day, or whole weeks.”

“I suspect that’s why the Grenouthians never developed the camp idea as a revenue generator themselves,” the Vergallian said. “When it comes to business with the other species, the Grenouthians focus on trade and entertainment. What the Verlocks bring to the table is their extensive experience operating academies for the other species. They’ll make sure that the camp provides a quantifiable educational experience.”

“I always heard that the other species all take education more seriously than we do, to the point that they won’t let their children attend Libby’s experimental school because they feel they’ve already worked out the optimum approach,” Brinda said. “Will they really let their children take so much time off if the camp is running in the middle of their school year?”

“I think you’re confusing our education system and those run by the other tunnel network species with the classroom-based approach that Humans default to when they operate schools,” Aabina said. “While our schools do run on a calendar with regular vacations, the curriculum for each child is individualized, and they proceed at their own pace. On my mother’s world, it’s completely normal for the children of farm families to take long breaks from school during harvests, and the children of merchants go absent for stretches to travel with their parents to regional fairs or trading voyages.”

“That may make sense on your tech-ban worlds, but what about alien children who are being brought up as space engineers?” Daniel asked.

“Do you think that the Dollnicks keep children shackled to their desks for a hundred years of stuffing their heads with math?” The Vergallian couldn’t help laughing when she saw from the expressions of the Humans that she’d hit the nail on the head. “You can’t pour an ocean into a wine goblet. Children learn at their own pace, and a variety of educational experiences are important.”

“But if parents pull their children out of school whenever a different educational opportunity comes up, doesn’t that make things too complicated for the teachers?”

Aabina looked puzzled. “I don’t see why it should.”

“So you’re saying that all of the alien schools operate the same way as Libby, with a custom curriculum for each child, and group lessons for when they happen to overlap?” Daniel asked.

“That’s pretty much the standard model for everyone. The unique thing about the station librarian’s school is the fact that she brings in young Stryx from all over the galaxy and assigns them Human friends.”

“And then they run off and explore the multiverse by themselves,” Mike said sourly. “We haven’t seen Spinner in years.”

“But Libby is Libby,” Kelly said. “She watches the children growing up on the station so it’s natural that she knows everything she needs to teach them at their own pace. I’m pretty sure she’s the Stryx behind the whole teacher bot network. How can normal teachers in normal schools be expected to keep track of a custom plan for every child?”

“It’s their calling,” Aabina said. “Teaching is one of the most respected career paths in advanced societies. It’s another one of those things that Humans seem to have gotten backward.”

Ten

“Sorry we’re late,” Dorothy said as she and Kevin rushed into the dressing room for the LARPing studio and began changing. “Alexander scared off the first InstaSitter and we waited three minutes for a replacement.”

“Our guide from the professional LARPing league just stuck her head out of the studio and told us it will be another five minutes,” Flazint told them. “She said something about a problem with goblins.”

“I hate goblins.”

“Are you still playing your seamstress character?” Affie asked as she slipped into the double weapons belt that completed her ranger outfit. “It wouldn’t kill you to try another crafting class if combat is too much to ask.”

“What difference does it make?” Dorothy responded. “We aren’t going on any raids today, we’re just making an inspection tour. The only reason I’m dressing up is that I promised Flaz we would stop at the in-studio tavern for drinks afterward. They only accept patrons who stay in character.”

“I switched to a paladin for today just to try it, and Myst is playing a bard,” Lancelot said. “Where’s Dietro?”

“Right here,” the sales manager for SBJ Fashions said, stepping away from the corner where his black cloak had rendered him nearly invisible. “Now that everybody knows about my past I may as well play an assassin. With Kevin as a barbarian and Tzachan as a rogue, we have most of the angles covered.”

“Is Baa coming?” Dorothy asked.

“She said she’d be here but I haven’t seen her. Maybe she’s already inside.”

“How about Ofer?” Affie asked.

“Who?”

“You know, the Human I told you about. He spent a whole day at the Vergallian embassy asking me questions about the Alts. Somehow LARPing came up, and he’s never been before so I invited him.”

“Is this the same Ofer my mom has been talking about?” Dorothy asked. “The one who was raised by alien artificial intelligence and doesn’t believe in private property?”

“Private property isn’t a matter of belief,” Tzachan said with a frown. “I know that this enchanted dagger is mine because I purchased it with creds I earned doing legal work. Does your friend think he has a right to take it from me because he doesn’t believe private property exists?”

“He’s not my friend, he’s Affie’s,” Dorothy said.

“More of an acquaintance,” the Vergallian corrected her. “He’s kind of sweet, though, in an innocent sort of way. And he makes more sense than plenty of Humans I’ve known.”

A young woman with silver hair wearing a skimpy halter top and a tiny skirt that left her practically naked stepped through the opening between the LARPing studio and the dressing room and smiled brightly. “Is everybody ready?”

“We’re still waiting for two,” Kevin said. “Baa and a young man named Ofer.”

“They’re already inside. I’m Lia, and as you can see, I’m an elf dancer. I’ll be your guide for this preview of the coming season, but first, I need you all to sign scrolls of non-disclosure.”

“Excuse me?” Dorothy said.

“You know,” Lia said, pulling a scroll out of thin air and handing it to the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter. “You have to agree not to tell anybody about the gameplay or special elements you see in the studio today. It’s a standard agreement.”

“Don’t sign until I read it,” Tzachan said, and the Frunge attorney moved to intercept the next seemingly conjured scroll from their guide. “And how are you doing that while we’re still in the dressing room?”

“I don’t know how the scrolls work, I just deliver them,” the elf dancer told him. She moved gracefully through the group handing them out until everybody had one.

“Is this one of those drop-of-blood things?” Myst asked. “I’ll need to borrow somebody’s dagger.”

“You just draw your signature with a finger and then it goes back to wherever it came from,” Lia said.

“This is all pretty straightforward though I don’t see any mechanism for enforcement,” Tzachan concluded after reading the text. “Are they all the same?”

“Identical. We have a lot to get through today if you don’t mind.”

Everybody drew signatures on their scroll with a fingertip, after which the parchment disappeared in a showy shower of sparks. Then they followed the elf dancer into the LARPing studio, and the benches and lockers of the dressing room were replaced by enormous trees dripping with moss. A young man wearing a simple robe with a large pouch over one shoulder was arguing with Baa about something as they approached. The Terragram had the look of a mage who was contemplating transforming somebody into a frog.

“Did you guys have to sign non-disclosure agreements?” Dorothy asked to break the tension.

“That’s what we’re arguing about,” Ofer said. “I signed one and she didn’t. And I don’t believe contracts count when they’re offered under duress.”

“Don’t worry about it. Our attorney says there’s no enforcement mechanism.”

“In this case, Tzachan is mistaken,” Baa said. “I created those scrolls for the professional LARPing league and I assure you that you’ll be bound by the terms until the end of the season.”

Dorothy glared at the mage. “You enchanted against us? Your friends and workmates?”

“The professional LARPing league would never have permitted you into the season preview otherwise. You don’t want to know how they bind their developers.”

“You really don’t,” Lia concurred, looking distinctly uncomfortable at the memory.

“Don’t worry about the scrolls, Dorothy,” Myst said.  “We’re here for a reason. Remember?”

“I’m here to kick some goblin butt,” Dietro said, tapping the hilt of his rapier significantly. “Are we going to get this raid on the road or stand here all day debating?”

“Stick with us,” Affie said to Ofer as they set off after the guide. “We LARP all the time and we’ll keep you from getting killed. What are you, anyway?”

“A scribe,” Ofer said. “But I refused to accept any virtual gold because I didn’t want to prejudice my legal standing. And I used up my scribal supplies practicing.”

“Since you got here?”

“The starting pouch only held one piece of parchment, a little bottle of ink, and a single quill.”

Lia stopped at an ancient tree with a trunk wider than she was tall and whispered something in a foreign tongue that none of their implants translated. A gaping crack opened in the bark, revealing a narrow stairway.

“Single file,” she said. “And don’t go killing any monsters. They’re all asleep, and if anybody wakes something up just to fight it, we’re out of here.”

“It’s going to be one of those LARPs,” Dietro grumbled to Kevin as they waited to enter the tree trunk. “I can feel it.”

“How are teams in the league supposed to find out they need to whisper to a tree to get into the dungeon?” Dorothy asked the guide. “And what language were you speaking?”

“Admin, a dialect of High Elvish,” Lia said. “I’m taking you the back way into the dungeon. We don’t have time to go through twelve levels even if all of the mobs are asleep on the job. Watch out for those barrels. They’re full of fake blood.”

“Yuck,” Myst said. “What do you need fake blood for anyway? I thought it was all done with holograms.”

“Don’t you know there are robots wielding real weapons inside of those holograms so that the players aren’t fighting thin air? It’s the same with the blood. I could shine a red flashlight at you and fool the audience at home, but the easiest way to make it realistic is to use specially formulated red hydraulic fluid in the bots so they can produce gouts of blood as required.”

“Wouldn’t that stop them from functioning properly?”

“Things that produce gouts of blood usually do stop functioning properly,” Lia said. “Of course, it’s much easier to bring a bot back to life after it’s bled out than a biological.”

“Something feels odd,” Baa murmured, the small feathers on her arms standing up. “Did you have another mage doing work in here recently?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I’d check with management, but we’re cut off once the simulation starts running.”

“You mean we’re Beta testers?” Lancelot asked, half drawing his sword in the cramped tunnel that had been carved through the bedrock. “That’s so cool.”

“The dungeon’s defenses are completely shut down,” Lia told him. “We’ll be fine as long as nobody—what was that?”

“It sounded to me like a sleepy troll,” Baa said. “A very large sleepy troll, judging from the harmonics.” There was another incoherent roar, louder this time. “A very large and very angry troll who’s getting less sleepy by the second. Who else knew that you were bringing us on this tour?”

“Maybe we should head back,” Lia said uncertainly, pausing in the glow from an orb that hovered in front of her like a lovelorn firefly. Another roar came from a side passage they had just filed past. “We should definitely go back.”

Her words were followed by the rattle of chains and a loud clank that sounded like a portcullis dropping in place over the entrance to a castle.

“Hey, that almost brained me,” Tzachan called from where he was bringing up the rear with Flazint. “Is this part of the tour?”

“I think we have a problem,” the guide said. She whispered something to her floating light, causing it to flare up so the tunnel was as bright as day. “Are you our only tank?” she asked Kevin, grimacing at the way the barbarian outfit displayed his lean frame. “Who was in charge of making up this party?”

“We just play what we want,” Dorothy told her. “We aren’t competitive.”

“Don’t go running ahead, Kevin,” Baa ordered, “I can handle any troll without bloodshed as long as you pull its aggression, but make sure you leave me an angle for clean casting.”

Another roar came from just around the next bend, and this time it was accompanied by the stinking hot breath of a troll who didn’t believe in brushing his teeth after every meal. Ofer turned pale and dug in his pouch for a weapon, coming up with nothing but a quill.

“Does somebody have a dagger they can loan the newb?” Dorothy called back to the players behind them.

“He can have one of mine,” Dietro said, passing it forward. “But I don’t know how much damage a low-level scribe will be able to do with any weapon.”

“Do you people engage in this activity for fun?” Ofer asked, holding the dagger gingerly as if he was afraid of accidentally stabbing himself. “No wonder Earth was such a mess.”

“What are you doing?” Myst asked the guide, who had started twirling and shimmying while moving forward behind Baa and Kevin.

“I’m buffing the party,” Lia said. “It’s what elf dancers do. You should feel stronger and healthier.”

The invisible troll roared again.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Ofer said.

“I’m more effective with music,” the guide told them.

“I can sing,” Myst said and launched into a Gem marching song from their bloodless revolution.

To arms, brave sisters

With sharp and pointy things

March always forward

All hearts beating as one

To victory or death!

Kevin bellowed a war cry and dashed forward as the passage opened into a large chamber, his sword held in the classic two-handed grip of a barbarian. Flazint and Tzachan peppered the troll with arrows, and Dietro suddenly appeared behind it, though his dagger thrust was no more than a mosquito bite to the monster. Dorothy tried to thread a needle with shaking hands, hoping that she would only be called upon to stitch fabric and not skin, and then Baa completed the intricate motions of casting her spell and the troll collapsed in an anticlimactic heap.

“I almost had it,” Kevin panted. He examined the dented edge of his broadsword where it had made contact with one of the troll’s legs. “Maybe not.”

“What did you do to it?” Ofer asked, going forward to examine the monster. “Maybe we could have negotiated.”

“The troll is fine,” Baa said. “I had to promise the management I wouldn’t damage any of their monsters in the preseason. I just made all of the trolls in the dungeon believe that they’re back in their caves and the entrances are blocked by snowdrifts. They’ll hibernate until the spell wears off.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Lia said, leading the way into a side passage that looked and smelled like a communal latrine for dungeon-dwelling monsters. She ran her hands over the back wall trying to locate something by feel, and then there was a loud click and a whole section of stone swung back like a vault door.

“Aren’t you going through?” Kevin asked.

“It’s traditional to send the rogue first.”

“I should have stuck with playing a ranger,” Tzachan said, slipping past them and into the dim tunnel lit only by candle stubs stuck in crevices in the hand-hewn passage. “Can you tell me what I’m looking for?”

“Another stairway,” Lia said. “According to the admin map, it will save us six levels and come out in the throne room.”

“What’s the point of even dressing up?” Dietro groused.

“We’re here for business,” Affie reminded him. “Myst needs to see the dungeon bosses and the throne rooms to design a matching jewelry set that fits the aesthetic.” She noticed Ofer lingering at the entrance to the tunnel. “Are you afraid of the dark? I have an orb if you need to use it, but we’re the rear guard, so you have to get moving.”

“Are we cheating?” he asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not claiming to be a brave man or anything. I almost threw up when I saw that troll. But it doesn’t seem fair that other players will have to fight past a whole dungeon to see this throne room you’re talking about and we get to waltz in the back way.”

“It would be cheating if we were competing, but this is work,” Affie explained patiently. “Think of us as the maintenance workers who clean a bank vault. It would be counterproductive in all sorts of ways if they had to break in to do it.”

Ofer nodded his understanding and headed into the tunnel. Dietro whispered to Affie, “I wouldn’t object to cleaning out a vault,” receiving a punch in the bicep for his wit.

“There’s still something wrong,” Baa declared when they all emerged in the cavernous throne room. “I sense thousands of goblins behind these walls and it won’t be easy to protect everybody without using deadly force if they all burst in at the same time.”

“I don’t understand,” Lia said, breaking into a new dance. “I double-checked the settings before I entered the studio and all of the monsters should be sleeping.”

“Has anybody else contacted the league about product placement for jewelry?” Dorothy asked suddenly. “Jeeves always says to follow the money, and if somebody is trying to sabotage us, that would be my first guess.”

“I’m not in management,” the elf dancer said. “I do public relations and tours for sponsors.”

“Green,” Myst announced, nodding in agreement with herself. “Something with emeralds would match well with the décor in here.”

“Green also matches well with goblins,” Affie said. “Should we have a look in the treasure chest next to the throne?”

“Does opening the chest summon the Goblin King?” Kevin asked. “I think I can hear something happening on the level above us.”

“I’ll do it,” Lancelot offered. “Wait here, Myst.” The paladin strode forward, dropped to one knee in front of the chest, placed a hand on the lock, and mumbled a quick prayer to his god. A blue glow surrounded his fingers and the lid popped open. Three things happened simultaneously.

An enormous goblin wearing a crown of bones appeared on the throne—thousands of smaller goblins burst into the throne room from tunnels hidden by wall hangings or descended on ropes from openings in the ceiling—and a black cat materialized on Baa’s shoulder. Geb’s eyes narrowed into slits as he locked onto the Goblin King, and then he shot forward in a blur of light, impacting the center of the monster’s armored chest plate. The dungeon boss exploded in a shower of goo.

When the green-tinged smoke cleared, thousands of goblins lay sleeping on the floor, there was no sign of the king, and Geb sat on the throne, giving himself a tongue bath.

“What level is your familiar?” Lia asked in the stunned silence that followed.

“Geb is the god of cats, he doesn’t have a level,” Baa said. “Just for the record, he was acting on his own accord. I would have chosen a—” the Terragram mage glanced around at the goo-covered party, “—neater method of solving that particular problem.”

“There’s a lot of cool jewelry in this chest, Myst,” Lancelot called to his fiancée. “Come and look.”

“But don’t take anything,” Lia said. “I’m already going to have a lot of explaining to do about the Goblin King.”

“Volcanic Pipes!” Dietro suddenly exclaimed to nobody in particular. “I stopped in their Union Station boutique to check the pricing on natural gemstones the Verlocks extract on their worlds. I knew that Myst would need at least one outstanding stone to anchor her epic set, and I thought if we offered to feature Volcanic Pipes in our ads, they might comp us.”

“You expected the Verlocks to give you a free diamond in return for publicity?” Dorothy asked.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing with the LARPing league and publicity, but we’re giving them a matched set of finished pieces. The Verlocks could come up with a clever whispering campaign, and between that and our ads, they’d get almost as much benefit from the product placement as we will. The manager was interested, but she’ll have to run it past the home office, just like I’ll have to take it to Jeeves.”

“But why would Volcanic Pipes want to sabotage our fact-finding LARP if they’re interested?”

“I talked to her at the counter, and after I left, I realized I hadn’t asked about smaller matching stones,” Dietro explained. “When I turned back, I saw that Verlock mage coming out of the workshop. I heard somewhere that she does minor enchantments for them, rings that add plus-one to your health, things like that.”

“Sylinda!” Baa uttered the name like a curse. “She must have found out I’m looking for an apprentice and was offended that I didn’t ask her.”

“You think she has access to the admin settings for the LARPing studio?”

“She’s a consultant on the magical sandbox area for spell casting practice,” Lia said with a frown. “I don’t think they would give her management access because she’s been on the Union Station team.”

“Hey, the goo is disappearing on its own,” Flazint said, halting her efforts to clean it off her costume.

“You can thank Geb for that,” Baa said. “He’s working a major cleaning spell.”

“With his tongue?”

“Can’t you feel it? Wait until he gets to a spot where you have Goblin King protoplasm on your bare skin.”

“There’s an emergency exit under the throne,” Lia told them after consulting an admin map that only she could see. “Do you want to push forward with the tour or head back? There are five more dungeons, but I’ll tell you right now that if the monsters aren’t all sleeping, we’re done. A single blown-up dungeon boss I can explain as an emergency, but I can’t let your cat one-shot all of the toughest monsters the devs have to offer.”

“I want to see all of the throne rooms,” Myst said immediately. “The jewelry in this treasure chest reminds me of those class rings the Hortens wear, but there aren’t any larger pieces.”

“Every throne room has a treasure chest, and it seems to me that they usually stick with one type of jewelry in each,” Affie said. “Dietro?”

“What? Sorry, I was thinking about that Verlock mage.”

“You LARP more than any of us. Have you ever seen a treasure chest with a tiara or anything other than rings and necklaces?”

“Sure,” the Vergallian assassin said. “There are pendants, anklets, earrings, all grades of jewelry chains, and those broad collar things.”

“Usekh,” Baa said, tapping the elaborate gold and turquoise collar she wore herself. “Geb has been pestering me to make him a matching one.”

“Alright, then,” Lia said. “Everybody follow me, no killing monsters, and would those of you with cat-god familiars please keep them away from any dungeon bosses. If I remember correctly, there’s a passage directly into the throne room of the Master Liche behind that broken fountain.” She climbed carefully over the rubble, ran her hands over the wall, and found the secret trigger available only to admins. As soon as the panel swung open, she heard a low moaning rising from thousands of undead throats. “Oh, drat.”

Eleven

“Our cast members have a tradition of sharing what they’ve learned from their time on Let’s Make Friends at the end of their final show,” Aisha addressed the front immersive camera when the commercial break was over. “I want to thank Hork, Kupe, Bleena, Frynlid, Emanuel, Nvellab, and Lothad for sharing such an important period of their childhoods with us, and I know that I’m a better human for having spent time in their company. Does somebody want to volunteer to go first?”

“I’ll—” Emanuel managed before Hork’s tentacle covered the young human’s mouth.

Lothad stepped forward with a smile, but the Dollnick girl picked him up with all four of her arms and deposited him behind Frynlid, a large Verlock girl who wasn’t going to beat anybody to the punch.

Bleena and Nvellab eyed each other for a moment, and then the latter tentatively raised her hand.

“Very good, Nvellab,” Aisha said to the Sharf girl. “What did you learn?”

“Never eat anything that a Drazen says is spicy.”

“I grew up with spicy food and I follow that rule myself,” the hostess said with a smile. “How about you, Bleena?”

“Don’t offer to teach an alien friend to dance unless you’re wearing steel-toed shoes,” the Vergallian girl said shyly.

“But the important thing is that you remained friends. Lothad?”

“You can’t tell how aliens are feeling from the color of their skins,” the Horten said. “It’s confusing.”

“That’s right,” Aisha said. “It must have been strange for you coming from a species that displays so many visual cues. Emanuel?”

“Hork forgot to wash his tentacle,” Chastity’s son said with a grimace. “It tastes like Drazen.”

“Is that the only thing you’ve learned in over two years on the show?”

“I was going to use what Nvellab said about spicy food.”

“Frynlid?”

“When some species talk about math, they mean arithmetic,” the Verlock said slowly.

“It’s true that our cultures emphasize different aspects of education for children—and adults,” Aisha said. “Kupe?”

“Even though four arms are twice as good as two arms,” the Dollnick girl began and then yawned. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

“I don’t know why so many shows ended up scheduled during your sleeping hours this rotation, Kupe. I’m very sorry about that. Hork?”

“Humans have weak stomachs,” the Drazen said.

“You told me those potato chips were from Earth,” Emanuel protested.

“They are from Earth. Habanero flavored. They’re not even that spicy.”

“Told you so,” Nvellab said.

“We’re almost out of time,” Aisha interjected before a real argument could begin. “Shall we sing our song together once more for the audience at home?”

The seven alien children formed a double chorus line and launched into the theme song with the first note from the sound booth.

Don’t be a stranger because I look funny,

You look weird to me, but let’s make friends.

I’ll give you a tissue if your nose is runny,

I’m as scared as you, so let’s make friends.

“Hold on, everybody,” the Grenouthian assistant director shouted the moment the status lights indicated that the immersive cameras were offline. He hopped up on the stage before continuing. “The director just pinged me and the camp is a go. If we don’t shoot the commercial now, we’ll need to get the children back on the weekend.”

“You mean I’ll have to get up in the middle of the night again?” Kupe asked in dismay.

“Maybe,” the giant bunny said. “Probably.” He scowled at the departing crew and hopped back off the stage to take his place behind the front immersive camera. “Looks like the cameramen are sticking with the scheduled break before Stone Soup, but I can handle this.”

“What do you say?” Aisha asked the children. “Do you have another five minutes in you?”

“I do if he does,” Emanuel said, pointing at Hork, who could hardly allow a human to outlast him. The rest of the little aliens answered in the affirmative and gathered around the hostess to find out what was expected of them.

“We’re planning to open a Let’s Make Friends camp on Union Station and I’m going to do an ad for the corridor displays inviting local teens to apply for jobs as counselors,” Aisha explained. “If you all stand with me while I talk it will send a strong visual message.”

“You mean we’re wallpaper,” Emanuel said. “I want a line so I can get residue.”

“Residuals,” the Vergallian girl corrected him. “Do we get to go to the camp?”

“And is it free for us?” Hork added.

“Free seems fair if we’re helping with the commercial and not getting paid,” Nvellab said.

“You’re all welcome to come to the camp, but it’s not scheduled yet, so your parents will have to agree if you miss school,” Aisha said. “I don’t know if they’ll be charging for the beta test, but if they do, I’ll pay for you.”

“Who’s they?” Emanuel asked. “Isn’t it your camp?”

“It’s complicated.”

“The Grenouthians have subsidiary rights and they control the branding,” Lothad said. “My mom found out when she made T-shirts with ‘My son is on Let’s Make Friends’ and a team of lawyers came to visit.”

“Live in two,” the assistant director called out. “Let’s get this done before a union rep shows up and I get in trouble.”

Aisha took a deep breath and began speaking from memory when the status light on the camera went hot.

“I believe that all children benefit from playing and learning with their peers from other species, but here on the show, our space is limited to just a few individuals. That’s why I’ve approved a new project from the Verlock Association of Children’s Academies to test a vacation camp concept under the Let’s Make Friends name. Before we can start accepting applications for campers, we need to hire and train counselors. If you’re between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one and interested in working with the children of different species, please contact the address shown in the ad.”

“I’m eighteen,” Frynlid said when the light on the immersive camera winked out.

“The booth must have stopped transmitting a full translation over your earpieces when the show ended,” Aisha said. “When they run the commercial, the equivalent human-developmental age will be substituted for each species on the deck where the ad is displayed.”

“I didn’t understand any of that,” Hork complained. “I think my earpiece stopped working.”

“She said the bunnies will fix the ages,” Bleena told him in passable Drazen.

“Hold on a second,” Aisha said. “How many of you understand English without the translation?” All of the children except for Hork and Lothad put their hands up. “And you learned just from being on the show and listening to me through six cast rotations?”

“I had a tutor,” Kupe admitted. “My parents insisted.”

“I never realized.”

“It’s easy with the translation from the booth in one ear,” Bleena said. “I learned a little Drazen and Horten too.”

The assistant director looked up from the replay he’d just run on the camera view screen. “That’s perfect, we’re all set. See you next week, Aisha, and for all you kids, good luck with the rest of your lives.”

The children returned to the dressing rooms for the final time and Aisha found herself wandering about the set, touching the things she associated with the memory of one child or the other. She couldn’t help smiling when she saw the repaired ceramic planter that had broken during one of Emanuel and Hork’s endless wrestling matches. Then the set began to rotate and she almost lost her balance.

“Hey, Aisha,” Jonah called as the rotating set brought him into view as he came out from the dressing rooms. “Tough day?”

“It’s always bittersweet when a cast appears together for the final time,” she replied. “I’ll especially miss your little cousin, even though he can be a handful at times.”

“Manny is great,” Jonah said, walking along with the rotating set. “When he knows I’m making cookies, he and his Drazen friend hang around my set to lick out the bowls. Did you run over today?”

“Just a couple of minutes to shoot a corridor advertisement for camp counselors,” Aisha said.

“Why don’t you hire InstaSitters? You know we’ve already vetted them, and they’ve got plenty of experience with children in the right age group.”

Aisha blinked. “I didn’t think of that. I’ll mention it to the Verlocks before they start running the ads.”

“I still teach the cooking course for InstaSitter employees, and Tinka keeps on expanding the support for our alumni, especially in education and career opportunities,” Jonah said. “Have the Verlocks contact me and I’ll set up a meeting with Tinka. I’ll mention it to Mom and Aunt Chastity as well.”

“I keep forgetting that your mother and aunt are the majority owners of InstaSitter. They’re so down to Earth.”

“They say the same thing about you, and you’re probably richer than both of them put together,” Jonah said with a laugh. “Mom pours most of her InstaSitter income into EarthCent projects and Aunt Chastity is subsidizing the entire news industry on Earth. But I guess you have your foundation and Tunnel Trips.”

“Other than the first batch of ships I bought for Paul at the Stryx auction he’s built up Tunnel Trips with the cash flow and franchise fees,” Aisha said. “I count myself lucky if half of the money I send to Earth gets to the children I’m trying to help, but I’m not enough of a business person to try to run a charity myself. I had a plan to finance a network of children’s camps, but now it looks like the foundation will be limited to providing scholarships and—” She cut herself off and smiled. “Look at me. Poor little rich girl complaining about getting rid of money.”

“I’m going to have the same problem pretty soon if the endorsements keep coming in,” Jonah said, and then pointed at his ear. He listened for a minute and replied, “That makes sense,” before turning back to Aisha. “I was going to prerecord a commercial for the job fair to play on Union Station but the producer suggested doing it live while the booth subs one of our regular commercials for everywhere else.”

“I wonder why he didn’t do the same for the corridor display ad I just recorded? We share the same producer.”

“He probably just thought of it, or maybe it’s easier for me because there aren’t any children involved.”

“The set stopped rotating,” Aisha said, climbing off the stage. “I guess that means the Stone Soup kitchen is in front of the audience and you need to do your pre-show check. I’ll tell the Verlocks about your InstaSitter suggestion.”

Jonah nodded and then jogged around the set until he came to his kitchen. He set both of the ovens to preheat and tied on his apron. Then an alien guest climbed on stage and Jonah remembered it was Friday.

“Ambassador Crute,” he greeted the Dollnick. “It’s an honor to have you back on the show. Did the assistant director take you through all of the forms?”

“Yes, yes,” Crute replied irritably. “I signed away my right to compensation even if you dump a pan of hot oil over my crest or chop off one of my extremities by accident.” He held up all four hands and wiggled the fingers. “I suppose the Grenouthians think I can afford to lose a few since I’m well equipped.”

“They just don’t want any more legal troubles. I had that guest chef from Earth a few weeks ago who is suing for reputational damage after a woman in the studio audience we went to for a reaction said his stuffed shells tasted like chalk.”

“Seashells? On my homeworld, the marine organisms create them from almost pure calcium carbonate, the same as chalk.”

“Pasta shells, and the stuffings were all different,” Jonah said. “Chef Andre is from one of the new cooking movements where they refuse to use salt, and I have to admit his recipes all tasted pretty bland to me.”

“Well, the hold harmless agreement I signed went way beyond hurt feelings but I suppose we all have to make compromises in life,” Crute said. “I brought the Sheezle bugs I’ll be working with, and I’m curious to see what Human delicacies you’ll be offering to complement them.”

“I was surprised by the number of different insects that are eaten on Earth when I looked into it. I didn’t want to go overboard, so I stuck with crickets, grasshoppers, and cicadas, which are also known as land shrimp.”

“Can I get a sneak preview?”

Jonah got the containers of insects out of one of the refrigerators and then added a few see-through bags of dried crickets and grasshoppers. “The whole cicadas came out from Earth frozen, compliments of Drazen Foods, who are sponsoring today’s show. I’m hoping you have some ideas for the dried insects because most of the recipes I have suggest grinding them into powder and using them as a substitute or blend for flour.”

The Dollnick ambassador picked out a particularly large cicada which was still cold after defrosting in the fridge and examined it minutely. Then he popped it in his mouth. “Nutty flavor, good crunch, but I have the feeling I’m going to be busy with the dental floss after the show.”

“I’m not a big insect eater myself, but I’ve heard that removing the wings, legs, and antennae first cuts down on the bits stuck between the teeth. We were supposed to get a box of live desert locusts which I think are just a type of grasshopper, but the independent trader who was bringing them out had a cargo accident and they got loose.”

“How far could they go on one of those little two-man Sharf ships that Human traders operate?”

“Not far, but the trader didn’t notice until he was unloading, and by that time, they were gone,” Jonah said. “Hopefully they don’t show up on our ag deck.”

“But then you would have a fresh supply,” Crute pointed out. “The main drawback of living on Union Station is that Sheezle bugs don’t breed in space—they all have to be imported from one of our worlds. I can’t imagine how many scientists have been driven mad in the last two million years trying to discover a method of raising them in space without cloning, but they seem to be able to differentiate between centrifugal force and true gravity.”

The Grenouthian assistant director came on set, paid his respects to Crute, and then thrust a tab in Jonah’s hands. “Last minute edit to the script I gave you yesterday. Do you have it loaded on your heads-up display?”

“Of course.” The host of Stone Soup scanned the script for the commercial on the tab. “I don’t see the change.”

The assistant director, reading upside-down in an alien language, pointed at a section of the text with a furry finger. “Tipped positions. The original script referred to receiving gratuities.”

“But they mean the same thing,” Jonah said.

“Not when translated into Vergallian or Frunge. Just go with the change and we’ll get it out of the way during the first commercial break. Be ready because the booth won’t project the holographic commercial that’s going out to the network—this is a Union Station only announcement.”

“Got it.”

“No, don’t give the tab back,” the Grenouthian said. “Leave it standing up in the sink where the cameras won’t see it so you don’t forget.”

“Bossy, isn’t he,” the Dollnick ambassador commented to Jonah as the assistant director hopped down. “I hope he doesn’t try to tell you how to cook.”

“Back when we launched the show I had to get used to an endless stream of stage instructions over my implant,” Jonah said ruefully. “There was always somebody from the booth shouting at me to look up at the cameras when I was in the middle of chopping vegetables or measuring ingredients. I guess the top of my head isn’t that photogenic when I’m paying attention to what I’m doing.”

 “I suppose all of you two-armed species have that issue. One of the advantages of being four-armed is that we have prismatic lenses in our eyes that allow us to focus on multiple fields at the same time.”

“I wondered how Dollnicks managed two sets of hands doing different things. It doesn’t make you dizzy?”

“Our brains are rather large in comparison to most of the tunnel network species,” Crute said modestly as he dipped into one of the packages from Drazen Foods. “You know, these grasshoppers would make a fine garnish.” Then he sniffed the air and asked, “Do I smell something burning?”

“I’m preheating my pizza stones but they shouldn’t smell,” Jonah said. He saw a wisp escaping the nearer oven, opened the door, and was rewarded by a billowing cloud of smoke.

“Cut,” the assistant director yelled reflexively even though the cameras weren’t running. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. I’m just warming up my pizza stones so I can dry-roast cicadas. It’s an ancient aboriginal technique for cooking them. I use these stones at least twice a cycle and there’s never been a problem before.”

The Grenouthian hopped over and opened the other oven where the rectangular pizza stone made from lead-free clays was showing no sign of smoking. “All right. This one’s on us.”

“I don’t understand,” Jonah said.

“There was a production meeting for the crew after yesterday’s show and we might have used one of the pizza stones to bake some of those parsnips you had left over.”

“Why would baked parsnips cause all of that smoke?”

“They’re better with a drizzle of oil and a few secret herbs and spices,” the assistant director mumbled. “Somebody didn’t clean the stone thoroughly. I’ll take full responsibility.”

A local whirlwind created by the sophisticated ventilation system cleared the smoke in less than a minute, and Jonah quickly went over his plans for the show with Crute. Shortly into the first segment, Jonah ceded the spotlight to his guest. The Dollnick ambassador must have known a hundred and one ways to prepare Sheezle bugs and waxed poetic on the subject. Eventually, a chime over Jonah’s implant informed the host that the first commercial break was due in fifteen seconds.

“—and although there’s a paste with the same flavor and nutritional value, it’s just not the same without the crunch,” the ambassador wrapped up like a pro when Jonah gave him the sign.

“We’ll be right back after these brief messages from our sponsors,” Jonah said. Then he waited until the assistant director gave him a hand signal to launch into the local announcement. “Have you ever wondered about a career in the food and hospitality industry right here on Union Station? Stone Soup is proud to lend our name to a multi-species recruitment effort that will be taking place at the Empire Convention Center job fair on the first of the new cycle. Stop by our booth and chat with real employers about opportunities for all positions, from cleaners to chefs. You may be surprised to find how much servers earn—” he glanced down at the tab in the sink, “—in tipped positions. We’ll also be giving out free studio passes to come and watch the show in person, so stop by the booth and see what’s cooking.”

The light on the front immersive camera winked out and the assistant director said, “Thirty-six seconds.”

“I made it thirty-two seconds,” Crute said.

“He means until the network commercials stop running and we’re live again,” Jonah said, taking the tab out of the sink and stowing it below the counter with the mixing bowls. “I can’t believe I managed that last line with a straight face.”

“You won’t be cooking at the booth?”

“It’s another way of telling people to come by and see what’s happening.”

The ambassador nodded. “There’s a Sheezle bug in your hair.”

“Is that the Dollnick idiom for something fun happening?” Jonah asked.

“No, there’s a Sheezle bug—two Sheezle bugs—in your hair,” Crute said, dexterously removing them. “They’re good jumpers.”

Twelve

“Welcome to our home, Ofer,” Kelly greeted the lanky young man at the top of the ramp. “I hope that Beowulf didn’t scare you.”

“I met Alexander a few weeks ago so I was prepared,” Ofer replied seriously. “Is there a reason you live in a wreck?”

“We prefer to think of our home as upcycled,” Joe said. “It used to be the crew module, or half of the crew module, of an ice harvester that lost a battle with a comet tail.”

“I brought this.”

“Wine, how thoughtful,” Kelly said before noticing the lack of a cork. “An empty bottle?”

“I tripped over it in the corridor so I thought I’d bring it along,” Ofer said.

“Good housekeeping,” Joe said, taking the bottle from Kelly. “I’ll go put it with the recycling.”

“Why do you have so many shelves stuffed with old—what are those?”

“After all of the reading you’ve done you don’t recognize books?” Kelly asked in astonishment. Then it hit her that he’d grown up reading on a teacher bot screen and had probably never been anywhere with printed books on shelves. “Come,” she said, taking him by the arm and steering him to one of the bookcases, which in addition to being crammed full, had piles of paperbacks stacked on the top. “These are some of my favorites that I read over and over again. Why don’t you pick a few out to borrow?”

“Or keep,” Joe called back over his shoulder.

“Why would you read a book more than once?” Ofer asked, picking up a fat reprint of Vanity Fair from one of the stacks and flipping through the pages. “Don’t you remember them?”

Kelly laughed. “I may remember more about what happens in these books than I do about what’s left in my refrigerator, but, no, I don’t have a photographic memory.”

“Neither do I, if I understand what it means, but I remember what I read. And I’m not sure I would call this a book.”

“Thackeray? It’s a classic.”

“I may be jumping to conclusions but it appears to be a made-up story.”

“Of course, it’s a novel.”

“A book-length fictitious narrative,” Ofer said, obviously recalling a definition from memory. “What’s the point of that?”

Kelly stared for a moment at a loss for words. Then she pulled her wits together and picked up the fat paperback the young man had just returned to the stack. “Take Vanity Fair. It’s about the human condition and how our choices affect our lives and the lives of those around us. If you read it, you’ll be able to see the world as it was seen through the eyes of others, and that’s more educational than any dry historical tome.”

“I like dry history, the drier the better. My teacher bot recommended a course of books to me, but in the end, I had to tell it to exclude the ones where the historians wrote as if they were in the room when events happened centuries before. How could they know how this person or that person felt? If I was interested in fictitious narratives, I would have read novels.”

“But have you ever even tried one?”

“I don’t understand the attraction,” Ofer said. “You may as well say that everything happens because of magic. I prefer cause and effect.”

“Novels are full of cause and effect,” Kelly argued. “At least, the good ones are. I could understand if you weren’t interested in some of the genres that are written for specific audiences, but to paint all of literature with the same brush is—” She cut herself off and regrouped. “Who are your favorite authors?”

“Nobody has ever asked me that question before and so many come to mind. How many names do you want?”

“Let’s start with five.”

 “Darwin, Thoreau, Marx, Kierkegaard, and Wittgenstein,” Ofer replied.

“But you’re so young,” Kelly said, as if he had been reading dirty books. “Who were you reading ten years ago?”

“Darwin, Thoreau, Marx, Kierkegaard, and Wittgenstein.”

“I see. Do you know why I invited you for supper tonight, Ofer?”

“I was hoping you were going to feed me,” the young man said, looking a bit alarmed by the prospect that he’d been tricked. “Isn’t that what supper is all about?”

“You’re making the same error with meals that you do with books,” Kelly said. “Of course, there will be food, but I invited you here tonight because there will be two young ladies eating with us and I thought you might want to meet them. They’ve just arrived on Union Station and they’re going to staff the Human Empire booth at the job show before joining Flower.”

“And you want me to give them advice since I’m involved,” Ofer said, nodding his head. “I’ll be happy to answer their questions if I can, but they could have come to see me at the office.”

“I was hoping you might hit it off and spend some time together—socially,” Kelly put stress on the last word. “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

“Who’s Jack?”

“Do you have to take everything I say so literally?”

“I don’t understand. Would you rather I guess at your meaning?”

“Yes. I mean, no, but there are ways of—Joe,” Kelly called to her husband as he reappeared at the top of the ramp. “Could you get our guest a glass of your homebrew?”

“What’s homebrew?” Ofer asked immediately.

“You’ll like it,” Joe said. “The proletariat used to live on beer because the water was dangerous.”

“I remember now. I trained myself to skip over sections of books where the authors wrote extensively about food and drink because the meals Stats synthesized for me all looked and tasted pretty much the same.”

“Like a poor boy whose only food was porridge,” Kelly said, and she pulled a book from the shelf almost without looking. “Could I get you to read just one novel on my personal recommendation?”

“Is it about rich and powerful people? I tried watching a drama with the crew on one of the ships I took on the way here and it just made me angry to see the bourgeoisie feeding off the blood of the working classes. I prefer the Grenouthian documentaries.”

The ambassador returned Oliver Twist to the shelf and pulled out Little Dorrit. Then she changed her mind again and presented Ofer with David Copperfield. “All of these books were written around the same time that your Marx was active, but Dickens puts a human face on the suffering of the lower classes,” Kelly said. “And while some aspects of the novel are exaggerated for dramatic effect, I think you’ll find that the setting fills out the histories written of the period.”

“I’ve seen references to Dickens as a writer who advocated for social change, especially child labor laws,” the young man said, accepting the book. “But how could he create accurate historical settings without access to later scholarship?”

“Dickens was part of that history, and the readers he was writing for were part of it as well. He never could have imagined that people like us would be reading his books centuries later while living on a space station built by ancient artificial intelligence.”

“You’re saying that we weren’t his audience so he had no reason to try to fool us.” Ofer nodded slowly. “Yes, I see that now. It means that fictional narratives written for contemporary audiences may contain history from a perspective that’s not available in texts that rely on later sources.”

“Here,” Kelly said, deciding to push her luck. “Just take Oliver Twist and Little Dorrit as well. I’ll bet that you’re a fast reader.”

“Better come over here and sit down before she unloads the whole Victorian era on you,” Joe called to Ofer. “And I’m the grill cook, so you may as well get your order in.”

“Can you make Tofu Delight?”  Ofer asked. “I’ve been ordering it from Panda Pagoda every night.”

“You shouldn’t eat the same thing every day,” Kelly told him. “Even if it’s good for you, I’m sure it’s not good for you, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Ofer said and looked to Joe for an explanation.

“I think my wife was trying to say that even if it’s a healthy meal, most people are accustomed to a mixed diet. I don’t know how much it matters as long as you get the nutritional value, but maybe variety is important for mental health.”

Ofer put the books on the table, accepted the mug of Joe’s homebrewed beer, and took a sip. “It’s got bubbles in it!”

“You’ve never had soda either?”

“I asked the Stryx librarian about the pros and cons of soda the first time I went out to eat on Union Station and she said I’d be better off with water. I tried milk, but it gives me stomach pains, and somebody told me that juice is only for breakfast.”

Beowulf began barking in the distance, and then Alexander joined in. “Must be our guests,” Joe said. “I think I heard a bit of an Aabina bark in there as well.”

“Aabina offered to bring the twins by though she can’t stay for dinner herself,” Kelly said. “She spent the whole afternoon getting them up to speed on CoSHC and the Human Empire. They seemed surprisingly fuzzy about the details, despite having passed the EarthCent civil service exam.”

“Daniel gave me a paid week off from work to study and take the exam even though I’m a probationary employee,” Ofer said. “The hardest part for me was writing poetry because I’d never tried before but the rest of it was pretty easy. I’ll know for sure when I get the results in a few weeks”

“Easy? The truth is very few humans have passed.”

“It was mainly math and reading comprehension. Does EarthCent allow aliens to take it?”

Kelly nodded. “Some Open University students sit the exam for fun, and the aliens pass at a much higher rate than humans.”

“So, what do you say to a burger?” Joe asked.

“I don’t know,” the young man replied. “I’ve never met one, and my spoken German isn’t very good.”

“But you read German?” Kelly asked.

“The limits of my language are the limits of my world,” Ofer quoted. “I wanted to read Wittgenstein in the original.”

“You’ve lost me,” Joe said.

“He thought you meant a burgher with an ‘H’ in the middle,” Kelly said. “It’s an archaic word for a citizen of a German town that keeps coming up in crossword puzzles.”

“Is there any other kind?” Ofer asked.

“The eating kind,” Joe explained. “A hamburger. You’re in for a treat.”

“I don’t eat ham. I’m a vegetarian.”

“You’re in luck because we have vegan hamburgers in the freezer. I buy them for Aabina, and that sounds like her coming up the ramp as we speak.”

“We’re here,” the Vergallian princess announced politely as she led Ambassador Zerakova’s twin daughters into the ice harvester. “I wish I could stay, but I promised Affie to help her prepare a job fair strategy for the Alts.”

“Welcome, Sabina and Katya,” Kelly said, keeping her eyes on her special assistant because she didn’t have a clue which of the identical twins was which. “Are you sure you won’t have a cup of tea before you run off, Aabina?”

“I have to run, but it was nice meeting you, Sabina,” Aabina said, offering the young woman in the red dress a handshake. “And you, too, Katya,” she repeated the process with the other sister, who was wearing a green tube dress that might have been from SBJ Fashions.

“See you tomorrow,” Kelly called after the Vergallian, and then introduced Ofer to the twins, getting all of the names right.

“Is your hair real?” the blunt young man asked the new arrivals without hesitation.

Both of the twins laughed, and Katya undid her updo with a few deft movements and let the platinum hair cascade over her shoulders. “What do you think?” she asked him.

“It looks like liquid silver, much better than the elf dancer’s,” he said seriously. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Ofer is temporarily working for the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities while he finds his footing on the tunnel network,” Kelly explained. “He only has a few weeks of experience around humans.”

“I was raised by an artificial intelligence,” Ofer volunteered.

“Do you mean you’ve never kissed a girl?” Sabina asked, her grey eyes as large as saucers.

“I don’t think so. Should I have?”

“Excuse me, ladies,” Joe said, returning from the kitchen with a tray of food ready for the barbeque. “I promised Ofer to show him how to grill a vegan burger and Kelly could use your help bringing out the side dishes and salad. I can make you a regular hamburger, a broiled chicken breast, or—”

“We don’t eat at night,” Katya interrupted.

“Except desserts,” Sabina said.

“Not even salad?” Kelly asked them.

“It depends on the desserts.”

“Come on,” Joe said to Ofer, motioning to the exit with his head. He took a backward glance on the ramp to make sure the young man had followed and the twins had remained behind. “This might strike you as an odd sort of question, but have you read any books about human reproduction?”

“My teacher bot had a whole collection on sex education but I didn’t see the point of studying them since I was alone,” Ofer replied seriously. “I know that—” he came to an abrupt halt and stared at Joe. “Are you saying that those women want to have intercourse with me?”

“I wouldn’t presume to say, but I can see that they were both interested in getting to know you better. I’m also surprised that you haven’t seen this reaction before from women you’ve told about your past.”

“I always ask their opinions on Marxist thought and they remember they have somewhere else to be,” Ofer said. “I’m beginning to wonder if my source material on political economy is dated, but it’s hard to believe that the relations between the classes could change that much in just a couple of centuries.”

Joe checked that the barbeque was up to temperature, set the tray on the sideboard, and lifted the lid. “As far as history goes, I think it repeated itself in cycles before the Stryx intervened. But more than half of humanity has left Earth in the last century, mainly to work on alien labor contracts. The terms tunnel network employers give humans are similar to the best deals the unions were getting for their workers in the twentieth century, but without dues, taxes, or heavy-handed government.”

“Why would the aliens pay more for human workers than capitalists on Earth?” Ofer asked. “As the supply of labor fell, the wages for those who remained should have risen.”

“Life isn’t just about hourly pay,” Joe said, dexterously sliding a vegan burger off the spatula onto the grill. “Is it going to bother you if I cook meat on the other side here?”

“I don’t think so. But if the number of hours required to make a shirt—”

“Marx again, or is that The Wealth of Nations?”

“Adam Smith? How can anybody confuse Smith and Marx? They’re at completely opposite ends of the spectrum!”

“Are they?” Joe asked. “I struggled through their most famous works some years ago because my friend Stanley thought I’d find the historical aspects interesting. The only thing I remember is that they each had some simple example, growing corn or making a shirt, that they proceeded to examine from every possible angle for hundreds of pages until you’re forced to agree with them because if you didn’t you’d have to confess to yourself that you wasted all those hours of your life. It’s like that with a lot of books. The authors pile on words to build a soaring edifice, but it’s no more solid than the initial assumption. Go back to the very beginning and try arguing the other side.”

Ofer wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to argue with the cook so he asked, “How about the children of contract workers?”

“The ones who drop out of school are automatically included in the contract, and if they don’t want to work, they’ll do a runner. Most children growing up in contracts finish school, and after that, they can join on the same terms as their parents or leave the world.”

“They aren’t allowed to set up their own businesses?”

“Businesses that support the contract community, like restaurants and such, but they can’t, say, start a mine or a factory unless it’s an open world,” Joe said. “The bulk of the contract workers are doing jobs that the aliens would accomplish with robots otherwise. The tunnel network philosophy is to avoid automation whenever possible. What is it, Kel?” he asked his wife who looked annoyed about something.

“Ofer doesn’t need any more encouragement to talk about the working classes,” the EarthCent ambassador told Joe. “If the two of you don’t find a more interesting topic, you’re going to scare Svetlana’s daughters away. And we decided to eat on the patio rather than inside. Why don’t you help the girls move the tables together, Ofer?”

“It looks like they’re already finished,” he said, suddenly sounding a bit nervous.

“They aren’t going to bite you,” Kelly said. “Just get over there and let them do the talking.”

“I’m not sure this was a great idea,” Joe said quietly as soon as the young man was out of easy earshot. “I gather his only experience around women is from working in Daniel’s office.”

“They’re perfectly nice girls and I made sure that they understand he isn’t some sort of toy being dropped in their laps. They can’t help teasing a little, but he’ll get used to it.”

Joe shrugged, switched back to the vegetarian spatula, and moved the vegan burger to a bun on a clean plate that was waiting on the other side-shelf of the barbeque. “He asks smart questions and he’s as observant as they come. Maybe spending some time with Katya and Sabina will do him some good.”

“According to Daniel, he asks too many questions of the CoSHC members who just want to use the shared workspace. I think that’s why he was given the paid week off to take the civil service exam.”

 “You may as well bring Ofer this before it gets cold. I’ll start a burger for myself now and it will be done at the same time as your chicken breast.”

When Kelly reached the patio, the twins were sitting on either side of Ofer and taking turns feeding him different vegetables from the salad. The young man had his eyes closed and was trying to guess what he was eating by taste and texture.

“That’s enough, girls,” Kelly said in exasperation. “Let the poor man eat his dinner.”

“He likes tomatoes,” Katya reported brightly and lifted off the top of the bun to add a slice.

“And onions,” Sabina said, using her fork to retrieve a large ring from the salad bowl and placing it over the tomato.

“And I think I like beer,” Ofer said, giving the ambassador a happy, if confused, look. “My tongue feels funny. My head, too.”

Thirteen

“So, how will the simulcast work?” Daniel asked the Dollnick manager of the Empire Convention Center.

“That’s not the kind of information I can share with a primitive species,” the alien replied.

“I’ll bet he doesn’t know either,” Mike told his father. “A simulcast can’t work without the Stryxnet, and only the Stryx understand how that works.”

“Know more about it than you,” the manager whistled under his breath before continuing. “I can explain how we’ll use it in the job fair context. The Empire Convention Center chain does all of our internal hiring for Stryx station locations through a decennial simulcast.”

“By internal hiring, you mean that the chain gives employees the first chance to apply for higher-paying jobs at different locations,” Brinda surmised.

“It’s more complicated than that,” the Dollnick said. “I’d been working on Union Station for two centuries before I qualified to apply for the manager slot, but there were candidates from other stations competing with me for the job. And in many cases, employees aren’t looking for higher pay or more responsibilities but for a change in pace. The aerobics instructor at our gym used to be the facilities engineer at the Void Station convention center.”

“That is quite a change.”

“This brings back memories of when we did the Kasilian auction,” Shaina said to her sister as she surveyed the cavernous Galaxy room from the central stage. “I never really thought about how that was being simulcast all over the tunnel network at the time we were doing it. The audience in the stadium seating was enough to keep me nervous.”

“That was the two of you working the auction with Stryx Jeeves?” the Dollnick asked, looking from one sister to the other. “I remember those Humans as being much younger.”

“It was almost twenty-five years ago. That's more than a quarter of a lifetime for us.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the alien said, bowing his head momentarily. “During the Kasilian auction, I recall that major institutional buyers sent representatives, but there were also bids coming in over the Stryxnet that you announced from the stage.”

“And we had InstaSitters working as spotters spread around the room,” Brinda added.

“We’ll be taking a similar approach with the job fair simulcast. Since the employers presenting on stage are interested in hiring large groups, they’re expecting that the audience will primarily consist of individuals representing existing communities nearing the end of their contracts. The Empire Convention Center chain itself is hiring, and we gave the rest of the employers a good deal.”

“Even though they’re competing with you?” Mike asked suspiciously.

“We aren’t desperate for bodies—we want Humans who will be a good match for the hospitality industry,” the Dollnick told the teen. “By joining with a large number of employers, both alien and Human, we’ll multiply our reach a thousand-fold over the number of people who might have attended a job fair exclusive to us.”

“You have even more cameras than Let’s Make Friends,” Fenna observed. “What are all of the little booths around the foot of the stage?”

“In addition to the basic broadcast during which employers will present the work and conditions on offer, we will be supporting full-duplex teleconferencing from all of our convention center locations to the booths. Anybody with questions can request to speak directly to an employer during the course of the job fair at no cost. That’s a tremendous savings over the usual cost of a tunneling teleconference call.”

“Then why the cameras?” Daniel asked. “When we do teleconferencing over the Stryxnet, the station librarians handle all of the holographic imaging for us.”

“We aren’t a tunnel network diplomatic facility,” the manager explained. “Using our own hardware, rented from the Grenouthians in this case, cuts the costs by half. Do you have a final count on the number of employers who will be presenting in this room?”

“Ask them, not me,” Daniel replied, indicating his wife and sister-in-law. “I’ve been too busy with the CoSHC members to keep up with the alien employers.”

“We’re over a hundred, and we already had to lower the time limit for presentations, which didn’t make any of them happy,” Brinda said. “I originally thought that each species would club all of the employers together, but it turns out that the package deals for sectors like agriculture, manufacturing, and space construction, really don’t match up well.”

“I suspect that our ideal candidates for hospitality work would have different aptitudes than the careers you just listed,” the Dollnick said agreeably.

“The employers seemed more worried about the differences in the conditions and benefits packages than the actual work. For example, space construction workers are often separated from their families for long stretches, and employers prefer unmarried or older individuals over young parents whose minds would always be elsewhere. Agricultural workers are expected to perform their jobs and run their communities with minimal oversight, while terraforming contracts put humans side by side with alien supervisors, often operating high-tech equipment that requires advanced training.”

“I was surprised that the Frunge factories hiring large numbers of our people broke themselves down into industry groups, like textiles versus refined metal products,” Shaina said. “The hiring representatives I spoke with said that the philosophical differences in their approaches to work were so wide that it would just be confusing if they shared the stage.”

“Leave it to the Frunge to make mountains out of Meerphat hills,” the Dollnick said and began moving towards the exit. “We’ve delivered twenty-five hundred folding tables to the expanded Meteor Room and I need somebody to sign off on them. I was disappointed to hear that you’re waiving our catering services, but I understand that—”

“What!” Daniel interrupted. “I promised the ambassadors that we would include your all-species catering as a choice for the tunnel network employers presenting at the show.”

“Perhaps you should have told that pleasant young human who took my ping when I contacted your office about billing arrangements this morning.”

“Ofer,” Shaina said with a sigh. “I heard him talking with somebody about food this morning. I thought he was canceling an order for takeout because Ambassador McAllister invited us all to lunch to meet the Zerakovas.”

“I understand,” the Dollnick said, swallowing back a whistle on the peculiarities of his customer’s chain of command. “I’ll see if I can convince the head of our catering department to change his vacation plans, again.”

“Where are you taking us?” Brinda asked as they entered one of the passages under the stage. “I thought this came out on the deck below the rest of the convention center.”

“The divider between the Meteor Room and the Nebulae Room isn’t a fold-up. We lower it into a reserved space in the utility corridor down here. There’s a staircase running up the inside of the partition.”

“A secret staircase?” Fenna asked. “Like in a Station Scouts Mystery book?”

“I’m not familiar with the series,” the Dollnick told her, waving open a service door and leading the group into a narrow corridor. “The staircase was constructed as part of an engineering change order during our last major renovation. Other than the Stryx and the contractor, I imagine it is relatively secret.”

“I didn’t know that Dollnicks ever built stairs,” Mike said. “You’re supposed to have better engineering solutions for everything.”

“Did you think I meant Human stairs?” The alien waved open another door and then stood to the side. All four of his arms indicated the way forward like a theatre usher pointing out a seat. “I recommend holding onto the hand rail.”

Mike jumped forward onto the first stair and balanced like a surfer as it began to move upwards. “Cool.”

“An escalator?” Daniel asked.

The Dollnick stared at a blank section of bulkhead for a moment, obviously checking something on his heads-up display. “The technology is adjacent, if not similar,” the alien finally replied. “If you’ll notice,” he said, as Fenna jumped on a step and grabbed the handrail, “the stairs are not continuous, but individual instances of lifting platforms running on a polarity-coupled magnetic conveyer. The system is far more energy-efficient than your escalators because it isn’t dragging empty folding steps in an endless circuit.”

Shaina and Brinda followed the teenagers, and then Daniel took a step, after politely offering it to the alien first. There was no sense of mechanical vibration as the step moved him steadily up the incline, and the lack of any sort of clicking and clacking sounds was strangely disconcerting. He looked down at his feet as the step neared the top to see how it would disappear back into the mechanism. The ride ended on a landing with a red line, and as that marker approached, Daniel stepped over it and found himself on solid deck.

“What happened to the step?” Mike asked from where he was crouched down watching the arrivals. “I thought I would see it go under something but it just disappeared.”

“All a question of tolerances,” the Dollnick explained as he arrived on the landing right behind Daniel. “If you placed a sufficiently flat metal shim on the step you might see it disappear under the lip. And who are all of these Humans?”

Daniel turned to the approaching group of people. “Bob,” he greeted the Mayor of Floaters and nodded his acknowledgment to the others. “The load-in doesn’t start until 5:00 PM Human Standard Time. We’re on the final inspection tour.”

“We asked at your office and Ofer told us to just come on ahead,” Bob replied. “I was a bit surprised that you didn’t pre-assign all of the booth spaces, but—”

“We did,” Shaina interrupted. “Don’t believe anything that Ofer tells you. He’s not used to following instructions, at least not from us.”

“Are you saying we have to leave and come back in three hours?” a woman in the group asked. “I already rented a string of mulebots to deliver our promotional materials, and if we can’t unload them here, I’ll either get stuck paying an extra three hours on the rental or have to do it all twice.”

“Same with me,” somebody else said. “I didn’t complain when you opened our job fair to every species on the tunnel network, but if I can’t get the booth set up in time for a night out on my expense account, I’m not going to be happy.”

“I’m afraid the matter is out of my hands,” the Dollnick said. “I can’t allow anybody to work in here until the customer signs off on our preparations.”

“Everything looks great,” Bob said, winking at the alien. “The Dollnicks aren’t going to cheat you on the table count, Daniel, and other than that, it’s a big empty room.”

Daniel looked at the unending chain of mulebots flowing through the main doors and gave in. “Where do I sign?”

The manager produced a tab with the approval screen already loaded and held it out with both of his lower hands. He employed one of his upper arms to extend a stylus to Daniel. “On the blinking red line,” he instructed.

Signing triggered a number of immediate changes. The overhead lighting, which had previously been in energy-saver mode, came on full. Holographic booth numbers, according to the plan Shaina and Brinda had submitted, appeared throughout the space at roughly the height of a basketball hoop—easy to read, but not in the way. At the same time, the public address system began playing what sounded like all of the birds in a tropical jungle waking up in the morning with something to say.

“March of the Salesmen,” Bob said and whistled a few notes. “My favorite piece of Dollnick opera.”

“You’re from one of our open worlds?” the manager asked.

“Chianga. You ask me that every time I register at the hotel.”

“It’s especially difficult to tell Humans apart after you lose your hair,” the Dollnick said. “I have to be getting back to the Galaxy room to supervise setting up our booth but ping me if you have any questions.”

“Nice fellow,” Bob commented after the manager left. “Now, are your youngsters available to help me set up? Say ten creds each?”

“They’re already working for—” Daniel began, but Mike interrupted.

“Ten creds? We’re taking the rest of the afternoon off, Dad. That’s more than you pay us for a whole day.”

“You get free room and board,” his father said pointedly.

“Let them earn a little extra,” Shaina said. “All of the CoSHC members arriving today are going to come right here, thanks to our leaving Ofer in the office. We may as well stay and help with the setup ourselves.”

Rather than dumping stacks of unfolded tables in the center of the room, the Empire Convention Center staff had helpfully distributed them in long lines to demarcate the aisles defined by CoSHC’s floor plan in the reservation system. Shaina nudged Brinda, held both hands cupped around her mouth like a megaphone, and the younger sister nodded and laughed. Together they unfolded one of the tables near the center of the room and started climbing aboard from opposite sides as if they were getting back into a canoe that had capsized.

“Give me a hand, Daniel,” Shaina called to her husband. “I’m getting too old for this.”

“Cut-off for climbing on tables is fifty,” Brinda told her as she swung her legs up and then briefly knelt before standing. “It should probably be forty-five.”

“Kill the opera and add us to the public address list,” Shaina instructed Daniel as he helped her stand on the carbon fiber table. “You signed off on the room so you’re the only one who has environmental controls access without going through the Dollnicks.”

“Music is part of the environmental controls?” Daniel asked, enabling his heads-up display and skimming the menus with practiced eye movements. “There it is. Music off. Public address access—copy from personal contacts—wife—sister-in-law.”

“All right people,” Brinda bellowed in her auctioneer’s voice, except now her implant pushed it through the room’s public address system as well. “Anybody who doesn’t know their booth number, come and see us. If you have a problem with your location, come and see us. You know the number of folds you rented, so set them up under the holographic marker for your booth. This is a job fair, not a trade fair, so if somebody had the bright idea of bringing inventory to sell, come and see us. We’ll move you to one of the outside aisles so everybody who played by the rules won’t have to watch you breaking them.”

“If you brought tests to screen applicants and you need a place to set up equipment, we’ve established a common area on the other side of the non-CoSHC employers for temporary use,” Shaina picked up where Brinda left off. “You’ll want to reserve space ahead of time and meet job seekers there on a schedule. For those of you who haven’t exhibited at an Empire Convention Center, there’s a food court with take-out that includes human-safe offerings.”

“Don’t we get curtains to separate between the booths?” somebody called out.

“Opaque holographic curtains will drop on the exact internal boundaries of your booth, so don’t try stealing space from your neighbors,” Brinda answered. “The Empire Convention Center is famous for on-demand Dollnick acoustic isolation field technology which will be enabled by default. Some of you with less active booths may want to ask us to disable it so you don’t feel left out of the action.”

“What about visitor passes?” asked a woman who was well-mannered enough to approach the table on which the sisters were standing. “Will they be coded with all of the basics we can capture with our tabs rather than having to key it all in?”

“All visitor passes are readable by the standard tab camera, but it’s all on an opt-in basis,” Shaina told the woman. “In our experience, visitors who pre-register are more likely to firewall some of their data than those who register at the door. We’ll encourage people not to opt-out of sharing by raffling off prizes every day to those who allow full access.”

In the large booth space reserved by the Chianga delegation near the entrance, Fenna and Mike were busily laying out lines of miniature floaters under Bob’s direction.

“Do they really fly, or are they just models?” Mike asked the Mayor of Floaters.

“Do you have your tab?”

Mike nodded enthusiastically and took his standard student tab out of its belt holder.

“Put it in controller mode and scan for available devices,” Bob told him. “Then pick one and see if the instrument panel comes up.”

“It’s just like a real floater,” Mike said excitedly as he piloted one of the toys off of the table. “Look, Fenna. It’s got a camera and everything so you can see where it’s going.” As he tilted his tab to show the girl, the little floating car tilted as well, and the screen began flashing red.

“Quick, level out or you’ll crash,” Fenna told him.

“This is great. Are you giving them out for free?” Mike asked after regaining control.

“To qualified applicants who take the basic socialization test,” Bob told him. “We can train anybody to do useful work as long as they can get along with their neighbors.”

“Can I apply? Is there a job flying floaters? Wait, you’re Jonah’s father-in-law, aren’t you? So your daughter is the racing floater driver. That’s what I want to do when I grow up.”

“Since when?” Fenna couldn’t help asking.

“Since I saw these models,” Mike said.

“You’re too young to work in a floater factory, but I’ll make an exception. I’ll let each of you take a model after you finish setting out the first five gross, and remember to keep the central area of the booth clear. Sephia is bringing her racing floater to show as soon as the convention center authorizes the freight lift tube for her.”

“What’s gross?” Fenna asked.

“A dozen dozens,” Mike told her, proud to know something she didn’t. “When my grandfather orders cheap stuff for Kitchen Kitsch, the quantity discounts always start at a gross. How much did these cost, Mr. Mayor?”

“Mayor is my job title for managing the factory, and they’re actually miniature drones we buy in bulk from a Horten toymaker and fit out with an injection-molded floater body we manufacture ourselves. If you look between the seats, you’ll see the air vents for the propellers.”

“So they aren’t real floaters.”

“The technology doesn’t scale down that far, and our factory builds the bodies and interiors—the floater drives are manufactured by the Dollnicks.”

“Oh, like the two-man traders that humans build on Flower, except they buy the drives and the fuel packs from the Sharf,” Mike said, nodding his head in understanding. “It’s still a cool car.”

“Don’t spend all of your time playing or you won’t finish work before dinner,” Daniel said as he came up to the table. “Can we count on your daughter to be here for the pre-fair media event, Bob?”

“Sephia will bring her floater to the booth as soon as the management lets her through,” Bob replied. “She’ll come back whenever you say the reporters will be here. I think she’s looking forward to the attention after taking a long break from racing for maternity leave.”

“Ask her to bring Jonah and the baby. Plenty of people and aliens will recognize Jonah from Stone Soup, and a cute baby is always good for extra space in the Galactic Free Press.”

Fourteen

“There,” Baa said as she stood up a large cardboard cutout of a cartoon mouse with a pointy hat and a broom on her table. “You stay on your side of the booth, I’ll stay on mine.”

“Are the mouse and your writing supplies all that you brought?” Dorothy asked. “Don’t you have any—I don’t know—magic testing stuff?”

“There’s me and there’s Geb. What more would I need?”

“Like a crystal ball or something, just to show people that you’re getting into the spirit of the thing.”

“This isn’t a game,” the Terragram mage said sternly. “I’m looking for an apprentice with innate magical talent and a serious work ethic. The job requires unremitting toil and study.”

“You might want to emphasize the benefits if you find a candidate,” Dorothy said as she checked that nobody had played with the treadle sewing machine since she set it up with Kevin’s help the night before. “Brinda promised to come and help us staff the booth once all of the employers are settled in. If you get a hot prospect you should let her close the deal. She knows the SBJ Fashions employee handbook inside out since she wrote it.”

“Any apprentice I hire will be working directly for me. The fact that SBJ Fashions will be responsible for wages and benefits is entirely beside the point.”

“For you maybe, not for the apprentice,” Dorothy said, but she turned her head away before she spoke.

“I heard that,” Baa said. “And speak of the devil…”

“Are the two of you all set?” Brinda asked, stepping into the booth, which was now separated from its neighbors by holographic curtains. “Shaina is busy with the aliens in the Galaxy Room, but if you need anything now, I’ve got about ten minutes open in my schedule.”

“What does Daniel have you doing now that the show is all set up?” Dorothy asked.

“Putting out fires,” Brinda replied. “Some of the CoSHC employers are less than familiar with tunnel network employment laws because they’re used to doing their own thing in their communities. Once the doors open, I’m the on-call expert in sentient resources to try to prevent any problems from escalating into official complaints.”

“I could use a thermos of espresso,” Baa said. “Searching for magical talent in a sea of humanity is going to be an exercise in boredom.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of ways to lighten it up,” Brinda told her. “I may as well get out front and check the lines at registration. Ping me if anything comes up.”

Dorothy finished laying out the sewing test kits she had created for job seekers, swiped her tab to life, and sat down behind the table. “I’m not sure I like the holographic curtains and the acoustic suppression fields,” she said to Baa. “It’s too quiet, and I kind of enjoyed seeing what was going on at the booths next to us during trade shows. It’s energizing to be part of a competition, if you know what I mean.”

“I’m thankful for anything that reduces the number of people who will see me making a fool of myself testing Humans for magical talent,” the mage replied. She did a complex motion with her hands over the table and a cup of coffee appeared. “Blech, cream and sugar. Do you want this?”

“Why would you conjure up a cup of coffee that you don’t want to drink?”

“I didn’t make it from thin air, I harvested it.”

Dorothy shot her a skeptical look. “How do you harvest a cup of coffee?”

“A temporary bubble in the space-time continuum allowed me to retrieve it from the Coffee Bar in the food court,” Baa said. “I’d send it back and try again but the barista has already started making a new one. Talk about a bad short-term memory.”

“Give it here,” Dorothy said with a sigh. “I’ll stop by later and pay them.”

“Have you seen their prices?”

“It’s a work expense.”

“Speaking of work, where are all of your co-workers?” Baa asked.

“It’s the middle of the night on the Frunge clock so Flazint is still sleeping, but she’ll come and take over when I leave mid-afternoon. Affie is running a booth for the Alts so she’s not available.”

“Why would the Alts want to hire Humans, or anybody else for that matter?”

“They don’t, exactly, but Affie thought it wouldn’t hurt to have a booth with information about the immigration opportunities on Earth Two.”

“And the clones?”

“You shouldn’t call the Gem clones just because they’re, uh, cloned. All of Myst’s free hours are going into designing the epic jewelry set for the LARPing league, but Lancelot will be here tomorrow. Dietro talked Jeeves into giving him the week off to brainstorm with a Grenouthian show developer on his magical talent search reality show. I can’t believe you’ve forgotten when you’re in for twenty-five percent.”

“I haven’t forgotten, I just asked him to leave me out of the loop until my special knowledge is needed.” The Terragram mage glanced at Dorothy’s row of sewing test kits and shook her head. “You’re never going to hire all the seamstresses we need on Union Station, and Flower is going to want an equity stake in SBJ Fashions once her production becomes indispensable. I’ll never be invited to join another pantheon if word gets out that I partnered with a Dollnick AI.”

“What difference does that make?” Dorothy asked. “Do you really want to go back to lording it over some stone-age culture with a bunch of phony gods who you don’t even like?”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“Attention all employers,” Shaina’s voice boomed out over the public address system. “The job fair will be open in thirty seconds. Please remember that poaching from your neighbor’s booths makes us all look bad. I’m required to remind you that tunnel network law prohibits paying a head bounty in cash to the representative of a community looking for a new long-term contract. Any bonuses must be distributed to all workers at the time of a contract signing. Good luck.”

A trickle of job seekers squeezed through the doors of the Meteor Room the moment they opened, followed by a flood who were just a little slower on their feet. Within minutes, the aisles between the long rows of booths were starting to fill up. Even as she began answering questions from a line of people forming at her table, Dorothy could hear Baa turning away candidates one after another with a curt, “No. Nothing. Zilch.”

“This is excellent work, Maria,” Dorothy complimented the first job seeker to complete a stitching test on the treadle-powered sewing machine. “You maintained the alignment perfectly without using pins and kept the stitches right on the line. Have you sewn professionally?”

“Just piece work,” Maria said, looking surprisingly bashful for a woman in her forties. “I was a full-time housewife while our children were in school, though I also took care of the kitchen garden, the chickens, and the milking cow—plus all of the housework, of course.”

“What brings you to Union Station?”

“Our two youngest came for the Open University and my husband said if we were ever going to try the high-tech lifestyle we may as well do it before we were too old to learn. Jethro got a job right away on the ag deck but he’s also signed up for a continuing education course in space welding.”

“I’m confident based on this sample that you’re qualified to stitch for us,” Dorothy told her. “The only question is whether you’d rather continue with piece work or become a regular employee.”

“I don’t think I’m ready to spend eight hours a day doing the same thing,” Maria said. “One of my favorite parts of farm life was the variety. Before I married I lived with my parents, who were workers on a Frunge factory contract. I guess seeing them go off to the same place to work every day made me want to try something different.”

“How did you meet your husband?”

“He advertised on one of the Stryxnet matrimony boards.”

“Just like a modern fairy tale,” Dorothy said. “Well, we’re offering three different options starting next week. You can do piece work in your apartment, but there’s a minimum completion commitment. You can become a regular employee of SBJ Fashions with scheduled hours, which it sounds like you don’t want, or you can do piece work in our facility using our machines.”

“How much do you charge for that?” Maria asked.

“Nothing, but machine availability will be first-come-first-served. Having our own production facility on Union Station is new to us and we won’t know how many qualified employees we can hire until the job fair is over. Then we’ll see how many treadle sewing machines it makes sense to install, but I’m not that involved with the business side of things.”

“Except for spending the money,” Baa contributed without even looking over from where she was dismissing yet another candidate.

“Ignore the mage in front of the curtain,” Dorothy said to Maria. “We’ll start contacting hires to come in for orientation as soon as the job fair is over. Take my chit and ping me if a week goes by without hearing from our sentient resources officer. I don’t want to lose you.”

The EarthCent ambassador’s daughter took advantage of a momentary respite in the onslaught of job seekers to wander over behind Baa to see if she could figure out how the mage was making decisions so quickly. Typically, the random lull affected both sides of the booth, so nobody was waiting to be tested for magical ability.

“You’re having better luck than me,” Baa told Dorothy. “If it wasn’t for Geb’s premonition I’d be tempted to settle on Sylinda.”

“After the lengths she went to trying to wipe our party in the preview LARP? I’ve washed my seamstress outfit a dozen times and I swear it still smells like zombies.”

“She exceeded my expectations with that third ambush. The evil intention is there, it’s just the raw power that’s lacking.”

“Are you testing people for malevolence rather than magic? I don’t want to work with somebody like that.”

“You already do,” Baa said pointedly, but Dorothy pooh-poohed the mage and returned to her own side of the booth as new candidates entered.

“Would you like to take a quick sewing test?” she asked the pair of young women who approached her table. “Do either of you have any experience as stitchers?”

“We’ve both done piecework on your bespoke line, but only as subs,” the shorter girl said.

“Substitutes?” Dorothy asked, unsure what the girl meant.

“Subcontractors. One of our neighbors has been doing your piecework for years, but then she started working on alterations for that new Vergallian boutique. Between her other customers and SBJ Fashions, she has enough jobs coming in to keep a half dozen of us busy.”

“I had no idea.” Dorothy thought for a moment and then shrugged. “I guess we don’t have a rule against pieceworkers subcontracting, but unless she’s running at a loss, you’ll definitely earn more working directly for us. Do you have any experience with a treadle machine?”

“Is it required?” the taller girl asked. “We both own Frunge Seam Masters, the portable ones.”

“Not for any of our current work, but we’re expanding into second-tier handmade which allows treadle-powered machines.”

“We walked by earlier when the guy with the beard was sewing and it looked kind of fun. Did you hire him?”

Dorothy shook her head. “Technically, he was excellent, but all of his experience was as a sail maker. He’s used to doing big stitches in tough material on a heavy-duty machine and the skills don’t translate that well to dressmaking. I gave him a recommendation for the shipyard on Flower because she’ll be arriving next week.”

The two girls looked at each other, and then the shorter one ventured, “I don’t know much about the spaceship business but I don’t think they need sails.”

“Flower Shipyards also sells a ton of accessories, like awnings and hammocks for camping on planets,” Dorothy explained. “I see a lot of them because my dad runs a small-ship campground on Union Station.”

“I’m willing to give your machine a try if you can show me the basics.”

While Dorothy gave the two girls a quick introduction to the treadle sewing machine, Baa was growing increasingly frustrated with a young man who claimed to have the second sight.

“You’re delusional,” the mage told him bluntly. “Your aura is so faint that I’m surprised you’re alive.”

“I’m shielding,” the young man said.

“You watch too much anime. Go away before I turn you into a cartoon character.”

“Test me.”

“I did. You failed.”

“I mean a fair test,” he said, pulling out a deck of playing cards and fanning them. “Pick one and I’ll tell you what it is.”

“Oooh, a magician,” Baa said. “I’ve got a trick for you.” She hid both of her hands behind her back for a moment and then brought them out with clenched fists. “Which one is holding the coin?”

“The left,” he said confidently.

Baa opened the hand and showed that it was empty.

“I meant your left, not mine.”

She opened her other hand with the same result.

“You cheated,” he said.

“If you can’t tell whether or not your mark has anything in her hand then you’re the sucker in the game,” Baa said. “Now get moving. You’re holding up the line.”

The man looked behind him and was surprised to see a veritable mob of prospective apprentices regarding him angrily. As soon as he hurried off, Baa waved a hand to dispel the illusion, leaving a pair of young teens.

“We want to take the magic test,” the girl said. “My mom says that I’m psychic.”

“And you?” Baa asked the boy.

“I’m the one she’s psychic with,” he said. “She can read my mind.”

“Then you come around this side of the table,” Baa said with a sigh. She dipped her quill in the inkwell, shielded a bit of parchment from the girl with her hand, and wrote something. Then she showed it to the boy and asked the girl, “What does it say?”

“Idiots,” the girl replied.

Baa blinked, and then she passed a hand over the boy’s head. “No implant or technology,” she muttered and turned back to the girl. “Are you a lip reader?”

“Doesn’t that count?”

“Maybe if you were entertaining at birthday parties. Can either of you stitch?”

“No,” the boy said.

“Then get out of here before I turn your hair green.” Baa watched them go and stroked her invisible cat to regain her composure. “What is it about Humans and not being afraid of me?” she asked the Chatulbezeq. Then a Goth girl dropped into the seat across from Baa, causing the mage to growl, “What do you want?”

“I want you to test me for magic,” the girl said. “Sometimes I think I can do stuff with my mind, but everybody tells me it’s all in my head.”

“Everybody is right, though your aura is top ten percent for your species,” Baa said. “Have you tried levitation?”

“You mean flying? Do you think I can?”

“Let’s begin with something a little simpler.” The mage reached in her purse and produced a five-cred piece. “I’ll start it off and then you take over.” Baa held the coin over the table and let go. It bobbed slightly and then steadied, floating as if it was held up by a Stryx manipulation field.

The Goth girl stared at the coin so hard that it was a wonder to everyone watching that it didn’t melt. A minute passed, two minutes, and then she asked, “Am I doing it myself?”

“Let’s see,” Baa said and withdrew her telekinetic support. The coin fell to the table and didn’t even bounce because it was immediately trapped by Geb’s paw. “Nope. All me. Next?”

Dorothy promised to personally contact a Vergallian woman who claimed to represent a sewing club and then greeted a girl with startling white hair. “I don’t know if I’m in the right line,” the girl said, glancing over at the cardboard cutout. “Does the cartoon mouse mean that your partner is the one hiring beginners?”

“Sorcerer’s apprentices,” the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter replied, frowning at the newcomer’s cloak, which consisted entirely of patches. “I’m looking for stitchers for production work, though I’ll consider anybody with aptitude. We offer excellent pay and flexible working conditions. May I scan your badge?”

The young woman held out her pass without removing it from the lanyard around her neck and Dorothy expertly captured the data with her tab. “Jyndal, that’s an interesting name. Were your parents on a Verlock contract?”

“On an academy world. There was an accident when I was a child and, well, I don’t have parents anymore.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. So you remained with the contract community?”

“Until I was twelve. Then they moved on but I stayed.” There was an odd catch in Jyndal’s voice and she added, “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t given a choice in the matter.”

“The Verlocks held you against your will?”

“The humans wouldn’t take me with them. Then I thought I would study in the academy for the rest of my life, but Tynar called me in last cycle and told me that my future was on Union Station. I arrived this morning and the station librarian sent me to the job fair.”

“You mean you’ve been traveling all this time from Verlock space and you just arrived? Come around the table and sit down. At least have a bottle of water. I’m Dorothy, and I’m part of the design team for SBJ Fashions. Your cloak is, uh, interesting.”

“It’s ugly, isn’t it,” Jyndal said, giving a sigh of relief as she sank down on the proffered folding chair. “It was a traditional Verlock academy and everyone wore the same uniform. After seven years without seeing another human, I didn’t really remember what our clothes look like.”

“You didn’t have a teacher bot?”

“Somebody must have taken it by mistake when the contract was up and everyone shipped out on the transport. The Verlocks got me a tab loaded with English literature but there weren’t any pictures. Can I take your sewing test?”

“Of course,” Dorothy said, retrieving one of the small plastic boxes with her beginner’s test from under the table. “This is just for hand stitching, so if you’ll start by threading the needle, we’ll see how you do on a pocket.” Five minutes and two bleeding fingers later, she gently put an end to Jyndal’s attempts to thread the needle. “Maybe sewing isn’t your destiny.”

“I’m just nervous,” the girl said. “My hands don’t usually shake like this unless I’m having one of my…” she trailed off and let her head fall.

Dorothy glanced back to see that the two pieceworkers were still absorbed in working the treadle sewing machine, and then she knelt and took up the hand without the pin-pricked fingers. “Don’t be afraid. You can tell me whatever it is and I’ll bet I can find you a job you’ll like. I know everybody on Union Station and we have extra space if you need a place to stay.”

“Really?” Jyndal looked up with tears in her eyes. “You aren’t going to ask why the contract community shunned me? Some of them even blamed me for the accident that killed my parents, but I know that it wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course it—what are you doing?” Dorothy interrupted herself as Jyndal started moving her free hand as if she were sculpting the air over her lap.

“Petting the cat, and he seems to like it. Is he yours?”

“Baa!” Dorothy called loudly, adding a wave to get the mage’s attention. “I think you have a winner.”

Fifteen

Kelly saw the Frunge ambassador queuing up at the registration desk and immediately went over to greet him. “Daniel gave me passes for all of us,” she told him. “Bork isn’t with you?”

“He stopped to pick up the Horten ambassador, who decided to accept your invitation at the last minute,” Czeros replied as he stepped out of the line. “I see that Daniel’s job fair is drawing a fair number of candidates from non-Human species.”

“There were hardly any yesterday, so either they didn’t know they were welcome, or they were smart enough to skip the opening rush,” the EarthCent ambassador said. “I wonder what changed Ortha’s mind?”

“The Hortens still consider open worlds to be an ongoing experiment, but after a number of their employers signed up for the Galaxy room, Ortha must have decided that it’s worth keeping on top of.”

“Aleeytis pinged me to say she would catch up with us later,” Kelly said. “It’s evening on their clock and she’s hosting an official dinner.”

“Has the dancing started yet?” Czeros asked.

“It must be at least halfway through or she wouldn’t be able to make it at all. I know from Samuel’s years at the Vergallian embassy how long those things last.”

“Did your walk-through with the other ambassadors go smoothly?”

“Srythlan and the Grenouthian ambassador spent the whole time discussing plans for the Let’s Make Friends camp without addressing each other directly,” the EarthCent ambassador said. “I felt like I was acting in a play.”

“I’m sure once they’ve made enough progress the Grenouthians will update Aisha’s contract so they can talk without all of the subterfuge,” Czeros told her.

“How did you guess? That was the last bush they beat around. Are these situations really so common?”

The Frunge ambassador gave a dry chuckle like twigs snapping underfoot. “One of the most important skills a tunnel network ambassador can cultivate is the ability to serve as a bridge in legally proscribed business negotiations. We do our best to play by the book, but in the end, we have diplomatic immunity to fall back on if an unhappy party litigates. Are you giving another tour later today?”

“Tomorrow morning, with Ptew, Crute, and the Thark ambassador, who just arrived back on the station. I’m not aware of the Tharks employing humans in any great numbers but I guess now I’ll find out if they are.”

“Ambassadors McAllister, Czeros,” Ortha greeted them formally. “I was with Bork a second ago but he stopped to pick up some salt.”

“I thought I smelled popcorn somewhere,” Kelly said. “I hope he’s a quick eater because there’s no food allowed inside.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Czeros said. “Who would work at an event that doesn’t permit food?”

“It only applies to the job hunters. The employers can do whatever they want, including giving out snacks.”

“Sorry to make you wait,” Bork said, joining the group with what looked like a tinfoil pillowcase stuffed with popcorn. “I went easy on the butter in case anybody else wants some.”

To Kelly’s surprise, the Frunge ambassador immediately took a handful and started munching away.

“Do you know where popcorn comes from?” she asked him cautiously.

“Corn,” Czeros replied after swallowing. “It’s taken a few decades for our Heritage Committee to work through classifying all of the foods that Earth has added to the tunnel network system. Under the new guidelines, corn is a vegetable, not a grain.”

“I think it’s a vegetable when it’s fresh and a grain when it’s, you know, dried and popped.”

“I don’t write the rules, I just abide by them.”

Kelly gave Ortha his entry badge and held another one out for Bork, who took it with his tentacle. “Visitors aren’t allowed to bring food into the exhibition hall,” she told him apologetically.

“We’ll see about that,” the Drazen said. He rolled up the top of the foil bag and led the party to the door where a couple of Dollnick employees of the convention center were checking ID.

“What’s in the bag?” one of the towering aliens asked.

“I’m the Drazen Ambassador and this is my diplomatic pouch,” Bork replied imperiously. “The contents are confidential.”

The Dollnick exchanged a look with his co-worker, and then the pair of them raised eight hands in submission. “Enjoy the show.”

“I can’t believe you’d claim diplomatic privilege just to sneak a bag of popcorn past the door,” Kelly said to Bork once they were inside. “What will the Stryx think?”

“That I’m hungry?” The Drazen ambassador unrolled the top of the bag again and offered it around. Kelly hesitated for a moment, and then took a handful just to show that she wasn’t being a stick-in-the-mud. “So,” Bork continued, looking at a holographic list of jobs for the nearest booth. “What’s a suborbital tail fin painter?”

“Suborbitals are what we call the airplanes on Earth that still run international routes, and they’ve all replaced their jet engines with floater technology,” the EarthCent ambassador explained. “They have a tall fin on the back that acts like a rudder to point the plane in the right direction though I doubt it’s needed anymore.”

“And painting these rudders is a career path?”

“I guess there’s a demand for it or they wouldn’t be hiring,” Kelly said. She scanned the dense list of job offerings from Terrestrial Aviation Industries, which had paid a premium for space just inside the door. “It’s interesting that they can’t find people to fill these jobs on Earth.”

“I’d be amazed if they could find people to fill these jobs anywhere,” Ortha said. “Who would want to be a Tourist Cabin Seatbelt Technician?”

“It’s a job, I guess, and technician work usually pays well. I would have thought you’d all be impressed that they’re doing it with people rather than robots.”

“Overhead Compartment Latch Adjuster? Just reading it makes my shoulders ache. Don’t you Humans know anything about repetitive strain injuries?”

“Perhaps the job titles are intended to be humorous,” Czeros suggested. “Who would come to work every day to inspect emergency flotation devices?”

“Let’s ask,” Kelly said and led her group over to a young woman in a skimpy flight attendant uniform who wasn’t currently engaged. “Are the jobs listed in the hologram career paths or are they just examples of what a person might find themselves doing?”

“The jobs are exactly as listed and you’re too old for any of them,” the stewardess told her bluntly. “Our cutoff for new employees is forty-five.”

“That’s against tunnel network law!”

“We operate on Earth, which has an exemption as a probationary tunnel network member.”

“How did you get a booth just inside the door? I’m not aware of the Conference of Sovereign Communities having any members on Earth.”

“We arranged discounts for CoSHC members visiting Earth on business. Next, please.”

“It’s always something with Humans,” Ortha commented in a loud voice. They moved as a group to the next booth which was hiring for mining consortiums on Drazen open worlds. “What’s a Drill Sharpener?”

“Strange,” Bork said. “I always thought that the Human miners on open worlds followed our standard practices.”

“And you don’t sharpen drills?” Kelly asked.

“Certainly our miners sharpen drills, but not all day long,” the Drazen ambassador replied. “I’ve read intelligence reports about this sort of thing but I have to admit I never took it seriously.”

“What sort of thing do you mean?”

“He’s talking about overspecialization,” Czeros replied for the Drazen ambassador, who had just taken aboard another handful of popcorn. “If a career requires highly specialized skills, the sort you might spend forty or fifty years acquiring, it makes sense that an employer hiring for the position would limit the applicant pool to qualified individuals.” He gestured dismissively at the booth’s holographic display. “Ore Sorters? Tool Crib Operator? Helmet and Lamp Technician? I’d think that every miner on the planet would be cross-trained for all of those jobs.”

“And that reminds me of a rather unpleasant duty that I’ve been procrastinating,” the Horten ambassador said to Kelly. “As the chair of the Gaming Rules Committee, I’ve received several complaints from members that Humans are adopting, shall we say, an academic approach to gaming tournaments.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kelly said, ushering the three alien ambassadors into the booth of a CoSHC employer producing furniture on a Dollnick open world. “Do you mean they’re taking all of the fun out of playing?”

“A few decades ago when your people started participating in official competitions, everyone found it somewhat amusing how Humans would focus on a particular aspect of a game until—no offense, Czeros—they lost sight of the forest for the trees. But some of the players in your current generation have lost sight of the trees for the leaves, or for the ants crawling on the leaves, or for the parasites on the ants—”

“I take your meaning,” Kelly cut him off. “Are you suggesting that the academic strategy is unfair in some way?”

The Horten turned dark brown and struggled to contain his mirth. “Oh, no. Human tournament rankings are falling across the boards due to their misplaced faith in minutia, but the income of the gaming industry depends on paying audiences, and the overspecialized style leads to excruciatingly boring play.”

“Imagine going to an opera where the singers all repeated the same note over and over again,” Bork said. “Variety is the pepper of existence.”

“Spice of life,” Kelly reflexively corrected the Drazen’s idiom. “I’m not sure what I can do about gamers pursuing a losing strategy, Ortha. I’m pretty sure that Paul has maintained his grandmaster status in Nova so I’ll ask him to look into it.”

“Look at this,” Czeros said, pointing at the job listings for the furniture factory. “Upholstery Inspector. Isn’t that a job any upholsterer would be qualified to perform? Paint Room Sander? Is that opposed to a Carpentry Shop Sander? Lathe Operator? So one person stands all day long at a lathe creating table legs and never gets the chance to put together a table?”

“But I thought that’s how all factories operate,” Kelly protested. “Isn’t specialization the whole idea behind assembly lines?”

“The workers aren’t glued to the floor,” Czeros told her. “Why shouldn’t they master every job in the factory? In addition to increasing employee satisfaction and reducing repetitive strain injuries, it creates a more flexible workforce capable of adapting to change.”

“Ambassadors,” Ofer announced his presence as he approached the group. “Daniel sent me to ask if I could be of service and the station librarian guided me to you.”

“I see,” Kelly said, unable to give voice to her suspicion that the young man had been dumped on her. “The ambassadors were just telling me how the job fair confirms their belief that our civilization has drifted into overspecialization, especially in careers.”

“I should have thought that was obvious from walking around and looking at the job listings,” Ofer said. “It’s just another way that capitalists exploit the working classes.”

“Please explain,” Bork said, drawing a grimace from Kelly.

“It all comes down to surplus labor. Self-employed craftsmen who produce the whole of a saleable product have implicit knowledge of how long they need to work to exchange the fruits of their labor for the requirements of living, such as food, clothing, and shelter. But in the factory system, the capitalist intentionally decouples the worker from the finished product. A man who stands in one place sanding parts all day long has only his employer’s word for the value of his labor.”

“Fascinating,” Czeros said. “Wrong, but fascinating.”

“My information may be dated but I believe the theory is sound,” the young man replied, sounding somewhat offended.

“Ofer has never been to Earth, at least not since he was a small child,” Kelly explained to her colleagues. “He’s surprisingly well versed in the theories of political economy from the centuries before the Stryx opened the planet.”

“Communism,” the Horten ambassador declared, his face lighting up with understanding. “The Grenouthians did some humorous documentaries on the subject, and I understand they’ve opened a theme park in one of the areas where communists ruled for the better part of a century.”

“Shall we visit the Galaxy Room?” Czeros suggested. “I believe the contrast between Frunge hiring practices and what we’re seeing from Human employers will explain our position better than mere words.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” the young woman recruiting for the furniture factory contributed from behind the table.

“You’ve been to the Galaxy Room?” Kelly asked her.

“No, but the five of you are blocking my booth.”

The chastened ambassador led her colleagues back out of the Meteor Room and then to the nearest entrance of the Galaxy Room, which let them in high up in the stadium seating of the amphitheater. A Dollnick on the central stage was presenting the opportunities and benefits of signing a twenty-year contract for a terraforming job, and the humans who packed the seats with a good view, roughly a third of the amphitheater’s capacity, were paying close attention.

“I understand that most of the people with passes for the Galaxy Room either represent contract groups or are vacationing contract workers who happened to be on Union Station,” Kelly told the ambassadors.

“If we go down to the floor, we can visit the simulcast booths and see what career options they’re offering,” Ofer said. “I helped with the setup, but I couldn’t get a straight answer from any of the aliens.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d ask them what they were hiring for and they’d tell me, ‘Humans.’ When I tried pushing to find out what career paths they were talking about, they’d say, ‘Human work.’ I think they were stone-walling me.”

“That seems very unlikely,” Bork told the young man. Then he turned to the EarthCent ambassador and said, “Allow me to walk beside you. The stairs are rather steep and there’s no railing.”

For a moment, Kelly wondered why she’d never noticed that the Drazen ambassador was afraid of heights. Then she realized that his intention was to grab her with his tentacle should she miss a step, and she suddenly felt the weight of her sixty-six years.

“We could go back out and take the lift tube down to the lower level and come in under the seating,” Czeros suggested kindly.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for your concern,” Kelly said. After the first ten stairs or so, she accepted Bork’s offer of an arm and made a mental note never to enter the Galaxy Room from the upper level unless she intended to take a nearby seat. Behind her, she could hear Ofer questioning the Frunge and Horten ambassadors about the structure of their societies.

“I don’t understand why you put so much emphasis on Human definitions of classes,” Czeros replied. “It’s not a concept that has any validity on our worlds.”

“The history of all previous societies has been the history of class struggle,” Ofer quoted.

“You’re talking about Human societies. Maybe you could find some parallels in early Vergallian history, but their struggle is long over and the upper caste won.”

“Are you saying that Aabina works for EarthCent because she was oppressed as a woman in Vergallian society?”

Kelly almost bit her tongue off trying not to laugh as the Frunge ambassador replied. “Aabina is upper caste, and Vergallian society is run by female royalty.”

“But she acts completely normal,” Ofer protested. “If she wasn’t so perfect, I would have taken her for human.”

“She’s a princess,” the Horten ambassador told him. “Her mother owns a planet.”

“But royalty stands in exact opposition to the working class. From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs.”

“And Aabina’s abilities fit her for the royalty,” Czeros picked up the thread. “As to needs, aren’t those essentially the same for all members of a given species?”

“I’m not sure,” Ofer admitted. “I don’t have much experience with any of that.” He looked around when they reached the next landing and Bork stopped to let Kelly catch her breath. “I’m kind of surprised that the people in the audience aren’t giving us dirty looks for talking during the Dollnick’s presentation.”

“They can’t hear us,” Ortha told him. “There’s a one-way acoustic isolation field over the aisles and doors. Sound can enter but it can’t exit. Of course,” the Horten continued, watching the young man out of the corner of his eye, “you’d probably consider that a form of class repression.”

“Anything that limits the ability of the working classes to express themselves is oppressive. That Dollnick could be spouting capitalistic propaganda and this acoustic suppression technology could be used to prevent anybody from responding.”

“I believe the Dollnick was just describing the early childhood education program available to the dependents of terraforming workers,” Czeros said dryly.

Kelly stepped off the last stair with a sigh of relief, shot Bork a look of gratitude, and turned to the right so they wouldn’t be walking in front of the stage where the Dollnick was presenting. The first three booths they passed on the periphery of the floor were currently active with simulcasts, but a trio of Fillinducks stood in front of the next booth waiting for action.

“Ambassadors,” the lead Fillinduck greeted the group. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Think of it as a fact-finding tour,” Kelly said. “My colleagues and I are interested to learn what special skills contract employers are seeking.”

“Special skills in Humans?” the Fillinduck considered this for a moment, and then ventured, “Good hygiene?” The brown-feathered second in the trio whispered something to the alpha, who nodded gravely and added, “And basic literacy.”

“What industries are you hiring for?” Ofer asked.

“Landscaping and recycling, primarily,” the Fillinduck replied right away. “We haven’t employed large numbers of Humans in the past, but there are areas of the economy on our world that are relying on automation more than we would like.”

“But what specific job functions are you hiring for?”

“My understanding is that Humans are general-purpose workers. Am I mistaken?”

“Then you’re hiring unskilled physical laborers,” Ofer said. “You want our people to do the work that you don’t want to do.”

“Of course,” the Fillinduck said. “Do you think we would hire your people to undercut the wages of our own workers? The goal is to replace non-sentient robots which can be easily stored and reactivated should the experiment fail. Our philosophy—excuse me,” he cut himself off as a hologram of a woman in her early fifties flickered to life in the booth. “May I help you?”

“Nancy Delgado, representing a group of ten thousand contract workers due to complete a fifteen-year contract on Stube, a Dollnick ag world. We’ve been very happy working for Prince Drume, but I happened to be passing through Echo  Station and saw a corridor display ad for this simulcast, so I thought I would hear what you have to offer.”

The Fillinduck launched into a presentation, and after listening for several minutes to his explanation of the pension plan and benefits for dependents, Kelly gestured for the ambassadors to move along.

“He never answered my question,” Ofer grumbled. “Man shall not live for bread alone.”

“I think the Fillinduck’s benefits package went well beyond bread,” the Horten ambassador said.

“What about worker committees to determine manpower allocation and the means of production? If the Fillinduck managers dictate all of the terms, the workers will be little more than slaves!”

“Try not to be so dramatic, Ofer,” Kelly said in exasperation. “If you want to be taken seriously, you need to stop forcing every new piece of information you encounter into a narrative of class struggle.”

“The Fillinducks aren’t a typical example of contract employers because they’re relatively new to the game with Humans,” Bork said. “There’s a booth hiring for Six Foundries, one of our heavy industry worlds. I’m sure your questions will be welcomed there.”

“Ambassador,” the Drazen at the front of the booth greeted Bork. “We just completed a simulcast and we’re in the five-minute cool-down period. How can I help you?”

“Ambassador McAllister and her young colleague are interested in what sort of specializations you expect to see in Human hires.”

The Drazen hiring manager used his tentacle to scratch behind his ear while he considered the question. “We welcome all specializations, of course, though they won’t necessarily align with jobs we have to offer. As an industrial world, our greatest need is machine operators. We’ve been hiring Humans for the last sixty years, so new workers can expect to be trained by members of their own species.”

“But what specific machines?” Ofer asked. “Are you looking for people to operate lathes, drill presses, welders, three-dimensional milling machines?”

“All of the above, and many more.”

“So why don’t you list those jobs in a hologram like all of the CoSHC employers?”

“We’re hiring Humans to replace automation, not to become automatons themselves,” the Drazen explained patiently. “As long as the workers are motivated, their managers will ensure that they receive ongoing training to optimize their contributions.”

“But how can a factory achieve maximum efficiency if you don’t specialize?” Ofer demanded.

“Ah, now I understand your confusion. If the goal was maximum efficiency we would do everything with automation, but everybody knows what kind of civilization that leads to. We don’t attempt to fit the worker to the job, we fit the job to the worker.”

“It’s the only civilized thing to do,” Ortha said.

“And the Frunge figured that out two million years before either of you,” Czeros reminded the Horten and Drazen ambassadors. “Give the Humans time. It’s only been a century or so since they stopped chaining fire exits to keep workers captive in factories.”

Sixteen

“I don’t know what deck, but the camp will be on Union Station,” Fenna told the teenage girls. “There’s going to be at least one week of training for counselors before we open, and if you’re eighteen or older, you can double your money by doing the sleepover thing.”

“We can get paid for sleeping?” the girl with a single long braid asked.

“The camp will run on our clock, with a twenty-four-hour day, so the younger counselors who go home at night will have an eight-hour training day and the older counselors who do sleepovers will have a sixteen-hour day.”

“And we get a free T-shirt just for applying?”

 After Aisha’s daughter confirmed the bonus, both teenagers unclipped their visitor badges and handed them over. Then they each picked out a Let’s Make Friends T-shirt in their favorite color from the neat stacks on the girl’s table. To the left, Mike was refolding and sorting the T-shirts on the boy’s table for at least the fifth time that day.

“You’re both InstaSitters,” Fenna commented when her tab displayed the information she scanned from the passes. “That means you can skip the whole interview process and just sign up for training when we announce the date. It’s going to be first-come, first-serve.”

“Great,” the redhead said. She leaned across the table and whispered to Fenna, “Why does the guy you’re working with look so familiar?”

“Mike? He was on Let’s Make Friends for two years when he was the right age.”

“That’s so cool. I think I have his action figure. But he looks kind of grumpy in person.”

“That’s because the guys who apply to be counselors keep messing up his stacks of T-shirts,” Fenna said. “I think they have less experience clothes shopping than girls do.”

The two teenagers moved on to visit other booths, and Fenna took pity on Mike, who had decided that rolling the T-shirts up was easier than folding them.

“If I sort them by colors, they can’t find their size, and if I sort them by size, they keep changing their minds about colors,” Mike complained. “If you didn’t have the T-shirts for girls out on your table, I’d keep mine in the boxes and just give everybody the one off the top.”

“But what about the sizes?”

“If they don’t want them, they can give them back.”

“It’s the last day of the job fair,” Fenna reminded Mike as she began quickly refolding and stacking the men’s T-shirts. “Mom gave me five creds to order lunch from the food court for both of us. What do you want?”

“Pizza,” Mike replied, and suddenly began displaying expertise in T-shirt folding. “I’ll finish these. You put in the order on your tab.”

When the take-out arrived it immediately became clear that ordering a single pizza for a booth offering employment to teenagers had been a miscalculation. Mike managed to get two pieces by the simple strategy of folding one over another to create a crude calzone, but Fenna had to make do with a single slice before the sudden onslaught of kids, who may or may not have had any interest in working as camp counselors, finished the rest. The lunch rush mysteriously evaporated as soon as the pizza was gone.

A few minutes later, Ofer entered the booth and made a note of something on his tab.

“What are you doing?” Fenna asked him.

“Shaina assigned me to check all of the booths and sort of take attendance,” the young man replied. “I’m beginning to think that she just wanted me out of the office while CoSHC employers are using it for private meetings.”

“My mom thought you were spying on them?” Mike asked.

“Some of the members told your dad that I talk too much. I was just trying to open their eyes to the dangers of free market capitalism but everybody acts like I’m the one who needs an education. It doesn’t seem fair after I did nothing but study for almost twenty years.”

“My grandpa always says that there’s no better way to educate yourself about business than to work in an open market where you have competitors selling the same products. You can’t learn anything important from books.”

Ofer jerked as if he’d received an electrical shock. “What did you say?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard from my grandpa,” Mike said, recognizing that he had touched a nerve. “I mean, I like books, especially ones with space battles or detectives, and they’re good for math and stuff, but reading isn’t the same as doing. It’s all theatrical.”

“He means theoretical,” Fenna explained. “Mike has a problem with mispronouncing the middle of long words when he’s being serious. And my dad went to the Open University for Space Engineering, but he always says that he learned more about small ships from my grandpa.”

“Did Ambassador McAllister’s husband study spaceship engineering as well?” Ofer asked. “He mentioned working as a paid soldier and a policeman.”

“Grandpa Joe never went to school, at least not college. He learned spaceship mechanics by taking old junks apart and asking the aliens when he needed help.”

“But how could he take a spaceship apart without knowing how it was put together?”

“I take stuff apart to figure it out all the time, though it doesn’t always work when I put it together again,” Mike said. “But I always learn something from trying.”

“I didn’t have any junk to take apart when I was growing up,” Ofer admitted. “I spent all of my time reading and exploring the cargo bays after Stats made me a spacesuit.” He held up the tab he was using to mark attendance and looked at it sadly. “Now it turns out that all I’m fit for is busy work designed to keep me out of the way.”

“You should be talking to the employers as you go around and find out if there’s another job you’d rather do,” Fenna said. “I’ll bet that’s what Mike’s mom had in mind when she told you to take attendance. Grownups are tricky like that.”

Ofer brightened up at this interpretation, and after confirming that he was too old to be a camp counselor, moved off to the next booth. A teenage boy took his place and scanned the poster that highlighted the proposed attractions of Let’s Make Friends camp.

“What’s a curriculum?” he asked.

“That’s what I want to know,” Mike said.

“It’s just a fancy word for a plan,” Fenna told them, crossing her fingers behind her back. “It could include things like swimming, archery, whittling, hiking, and all of the regular camping stuff.”

“You’re sure it’s not a trick to get kids to go to school on vacation?” the teenager asked. “I don’t want to be a teacher.”

“It just looks a little like that because the Verlocks are involved. I’ll bet the kids have as much fun learning new things with the other species as they do on the Let’s Make Friends show.”

“It still looks like summer school. I think I’ll pass.”

“Applicants get a free T-shirt,” Mike called after him, but the teen just gave a dismissive wave.

“Why is it that boys pretend to dislike school so much?” Fenna asked him. “You always have a good time when we’re there.”

“It’s the principle of the thing. Being in school means that you aren’t doing something that might be better.”

“But you could say that about anything! If you’re always wondering whether you’re missing out on something better you’ll end up sitting around and doing nothing all day.”

“I can think of lots of more interesting things to do than folding these stupid T-shirts a million times,” Mike said.

“That’s different, we’re working,” Fenna pointed out. “Work isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“Sure it is. Mom told me the most important thing in life is to enjoy your time with your family and your job. Don’t your parents like their work?”

“Dad does. I’m not sure about Mom lately. She still loves doing the show with the alien children and she claims she learns more from them than they do from her. But she’s gotten so famous that tons of people want something from her. Dad says that if we lived anywhere else we’d have strangers knocking on our door around the clock.”

“But you have Beowulf and Alexander to scare them off,” Mike said. “We could loan you Queenie if it gets really bad. She’s just as scary when she wants to be.”

“Grandpa Joe says that the Cayl hounds are our last line of defense. I think what Dad was talking about is that Libby refuses to answer when strangers ask her where Mom lives. It’s not like there’s a book where you can look up our address.”

A few steps to the right, on the other side of the holographic curtain separating Let’s Make Friends camp recruiting from the Galactic Free Press booth, Georgia was saying to Ofer, “It’s not like there’s a book where you can look up what to write about. Being a freelance journalist means going out in the field and investigating stories.”

“Are you talking about searching through people’s trash and hacking into their communications like spies?” Ofer asked. “I don’t think I’d be any good at that sort of thing. How did you get into reporting?”

“I started with a degree from the New University on Earth, but that almost kept the paper from hiring me when I got to Union Station. They wanted reporters who worked their way up through the student newspapers on teacher bots or who had experience with the Children’s News Network. I didn’t have a teacher bot as a child because I grew up on a commune of alien deniers.”

“Teacher bots have newspapers? I grew up with one but I never saw anything like that.”

Georgia looked at Ofer in surprise. “All of the teacher bots on any planet or space station are connected, and the Stryx can update them and probably monitor student progress as long as the world is on the tunnel network. You can get free access to the same basic educational materials with a tab on Stryx space stations. Lots of tech-ban worlds allow teacher bots so the kids can help each other with homework and participate in the student newspapers.”

“I guess our ship never got near anywhere with a tunnel network connection,” Ofer said. “The only thing I know how to do other than to read is to write, but now I’m finding out that nobody is interested in what I have to say.”

“I reviewed restaurants for my first few years on Union Station,” Georgia told him. “I didn’t become a freelancer until I saved up enough money to live on. To research my first story, I bought passage on an independent trader with the man I ended up marrying. The Galactic Free Press will give anybody a chance as a freelancer, but it doesn’t pay anything unless they take your story.”

“Do you think they’d publish a meta-analysis of nineteenth-century history? That’s sort of my specialty.”

Georgia grimaced. “I’m not sure what that is, but it sounds more academic than something a newspaper would usually publish. But don’t go,” she said as the young man began turning away in disappointment. “I’m just a freelancer who they dragged in to help staff the booth because my husband had to be on Union Station for a meeting. Roland is the editor in charge of freelancers and he’ll be back in—here he is.”

“Sorry I took so long,” Roland said, slipping in around the table. “Did your baby wake up?”

“Adult conversations put him to sleep,” Georgia said. “I should mention it to M793qK. And this is Ofer. He’s currently working for Daniel in the CoSHC office but he’s hoping to find something more in line with his skills.”

“The Wolf Boy,” Roland said, offering Ofer a handshake. “I read the interview that Bob Steelforth did with you last week. We had an ed board meeting and decided to save it for the end of the cycle when we’re doing a special section about human children raised by aliens.”

“How does that make me a wolf?” Ofer asked.

“It’s just a catch-all term for young children raised by other species. There are plenty of stories from Earth about runaways or orphans being raised by wild animals, though most of them are probably exaggerations. But since humanity left Earth, it’s increasingly common to come across people who spent at least part of their childhood in the care of aliens. You’re the first adult raised entirely by artificial intelligence that any of us had heard of.”

“The Stryx run orphanages on all of their stations,” Georgia pointed out. “I’ve visited them.”

“But those children are together with other humans, and the younger ones usually agree to be adopted by local families,” Roland said. “The Stryx fund the orphanages, but they hire people to work with the children. It’s not the same as Ofer’s experience where his only parent after the age of five was an alien AI.”

“Excuse me,” the young man said and pointed at his ear. He listened for a moment and then smiled.

“Good news?” Georgia asked him.

“I passed EarthCent’s civil service exam. It was the first test I’ve ever taken so I couldn’t tell how I did.”

“Even if you have no interest in becoming a diplomat, that’s your golden ticket to opening doors for interesting jobs,” Roland said. “How much writing experience do you have?”

“At first it was just taking notes because the teacher bot is set up for that,” Ofer said. “Stats encouraged me to write summaries about what I read, and last year I completed a meta-analysis of nineteenth-century labor history. When I reached Union Station and showed it to the Stryx librarian, she told me it might be publishable in a journal.”

“So you’re a bookworm.” Roland drummed his fingers on the table while he pondered the young man’s career options. “Working in the CoSHC office you must know Brinda.”

“I don’t think she’s impressed with my business acumen.”

“As long as you haven’t given her a reason to dislike you, ask to meet her husband. Walter is our managing editor and he comes from an academic background. He might be able to give you some good advice or a special project. If not, I’m sure you could get a job at EarthCent Intelligence as an analyst. I wouldn’t normally recommend them as we compete for employees, but their offices are next to ours, and you can walk in and apply.”

“Do they have a booth at the job fair?” Ofer asked.

“They decided it would be too controversial,” Roland said. “The aliens might think they were looking for sleeper agents to go out on contracts.”

“So we spy on the other species even though we’re all tunnel network members?”

“I’m afraid so, but my understanding is that everybody focuses on business information, which is better than trying to instigate revolutions.”

“Let the ruling classes tremble at—” Ofer cut himself off mid-quote. “Never mind. I’ll ask Brinda about meeting her husband, but first I’m going to stop at the Human Empire booth.”

“Good luck,” Georgia told him. “My husband is their Minister of Trade, and if they ever give him a budget for hiring, he could use a private secretary to do all of the reading for him. Larry definitely isn’t a book worm.”

Ofer moved on to the next booth where Sabina and Katya were trying to convince all comers to take the EarthCent civil service test. They greeted Ofer enthusiastically and immediately recruited him to work in the booth for the rest of the afternoon.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I suspect that Daniel wants to get rid of me, and working for CoSHC can’t be that different from working for the Human Empire. The way he explained it, the only reason we have an empire is that the Conference of Sovereign Human Communities grew over a billion members and voted to become citizens, or subjects, or however it works with empires.”

“CoSHC members only care about business,” Katya told him. “You suck at business, we all get that, but the Human Empire is eventually going to replace EarthCent as humanity’s point of contact with the other species.”

“It’s going to be a real empire, like the aliens all have,” Sabina added. “Our job is to start building the bureaucracy.”

“Don’t you mean infrastructure?” Ofer asked.

“I’m just being honest. Did you think that the aliens don’t have bureaucracies?”

“I guess I thought they’d be smart enough to avoid them.”

“We’ve both worked for alien governments, and if history teaches anything, it’s that bureaucracy is unavoidable,” Katya said.

“Unless you’re Stryx,” Sabina added.

“That’s because they’re so massively overpowered that each one is a bureaucracy unto itself.”

“So why don’t all of the advanced species ask the Stryx to run their empires?” Ofer asked. “If they’re as omniscient and omnipotent as everybody says, that would produce the best possible outcome.”

“Have you ever heard of Convergence Theory?” Katya asked in reply.

“I don’t believe so. Does it have to do with mathematical series and asymptotes?”

“It’s something that the aliens only talk about if they’re at a party and they’ve had one too many. It explains how the Stryx move the tunnel network members in the direction of the best possible outcome by influencing a zillion little decisions that converge at a desired endpoint.”

“Life is not determined by consciousness, but consciousness by life,” Ofer quoted.

“What does that even mean?” Katya asked. “Is it more of your Marx and Engels?”

“Yes, and it means that reality defines what we are capable of thinking. The capitalist system—”

“Never mind the communist ideology,” Sabina interrupted. “Our family history goes back to when the communists ran Russia, and other than producing Olympic medals, it was a disaster.”

“But history—”

“Forget about human history, other than the warnings about the bad stuff repeating. The problem with the teacher bots is they only teach what humanity has already discovered. Our earliest written records only go back a few thousand years. The Drazens and the Hortens are the youngest species on the tunnel network after us, and they developed interstellar drive a half-million years ago. I’m not saying that humans are incapable of self-governing, but don’t you think it makes sense to study how the advanced species have lasted so long without destroying themselves? Even if the history books you read were all accurate and unbiased, they were written about a world that no longer exists.”

“Wow,” Katya said. “Did you memorize all of that ahead of time?”

“I kind of stole it from what a Frunge professor at the Open University told me when I tried justifying something stupid I wrote by referring to our history,” Sabina admitted. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“I think you’d be good for the Human Empire,” Katya said. “They’re going to need more wonky types, and that isn’t us.”

“Do you think that the emperor would want to hire me?” Ofer asked.

“He’s not an emperor, he’s the First Administrator, and he’s younger than we are,” Sabina said.

“Then how did he end up running the new empire?”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Katya said with a shrug. “I’m just glad it wasn’t one of us, even though my sister and I could have split the job, and nobody other than our mother would have noticed.”

Seventeen

“I’ll bet we beat everybody here today,” Dorothy bragged to her son, who didn’t appear to be that impressed. “It’s going to be weird having Shaina and Brinda back in the office now that the job fair is over. You have to be on your best behavior.”

Richard blinked at his mother and then smiled on recognizing the nursery room at SBJ Fashions that he hadn’t visited in over a week. Dorothy laid him on his back in the crib and turned on the Verlock Sky, which projected a hologram of the constellations as seen at night from the Western hemisphere of Earth. Richard carefully climbed to his feet and pointed into the hologram. “Up!”

“Mommy has already taken you to the stars,” Dorothy said, crouching and twisting her neck to see where the baby was pointing. “Union Station is—where are we, Libby?”

“Right where Richard is pointing,” the Stryx librarian replied.

“How can he know that? He’s not even two!”

“Jeeves sneaks in while you’re working and gives astronomy lessons, but don’t let on that I told you.”

“I thought it was suspicious when Richard came out with ‘pincer’ a few weeks ago,” Dorothy said. “It’s not a normal baby word.” She shook her head and put a stuffed bunny in the crib which her son immediately ejected. “So you’re all right playing by yourself for an hour while I see how much work has piled up? Don’t worry, Libby will ping me if you want anything.”

“Libby watch me,” Richard said.

“That’s a sentence!” Dorothy cried. “You heard it, Libby. His first sentence.” Then her eyes narrowed. “Why is it that both of my children’s first sentences were about you?”

“Only in response to something you said,” the Stryx librarian pointed out. “You may want to get to work now because Richard will be hungry in an hour. I’ll keep him company.”

 Dorothy slipped out of the nursery and into the design room. Baa greeted her with, “It’s about time. I need to expand my workspace to accommodate Jyndal and your cutting table is in the way.”

“But I use it all of the time,” Dorothy protested, moving quickly to put herself between the table and the Terragram mage. “Take some of Affie’s space. She’s never here.”

“I talked it over with Jeeves and he said you can take the cutting table home. It’s yours now.”

“Oh, that’s okay then. I get more work done at home than in the office anyway. Is Jyndal starting today?”

“I’ve been working with her all weekend but I had to give her an hour off for breakfast,” Baa said. “It seems that she still needs to eat.”

“Of course she needs to eat, she’s human. She needs to sleep as well, so don’t…” Dorothy trailed off when she noticed the mage shaking her head. “Jyndal doesn’t need to sleep?”

“Working with magic is superior to dreaming for getting the brain in order. The other benefits you derive from sleeping can be replaced by conscious energy management, though it may be a few centuries before she masters all of the required techniques.”

“Jyndal doesn’t have a few—she does?”

“All magic users have lifespans well in excess of their native species,” Baa said.

“Then why doesn’t our history know anything about them?” Dorothy asked. “Are you saying that Jyndal is the first human mage?”

“She won’t be a mage until she completes her training. Magic users are vanishingly rare among Humans, as Geb discovered during his six thousand years on Earth. The ones that did arise either learned to hide their longevity or were burned at the stake. Which would you choose?”

“I guess I wouldn’t tell anybody. But can she really do stuff?”

“Stuff?” Baa picked a ring out of a small wooden box on her desk and tossed it to Dorothy. “Put that on.”

“But we’re not in a LARPing studio so magic won’t have any effect on me,” Dorothy said, slipping the plain silver ring on her finger. “What’s this for?”

“An example of Jyndal’s work. I started her on the simplest enchantments, minor bonus rings for skills. That one adds plus one in scroll reading and comprehension to a player’s stats. Now read something.

“Anything?” Dorothy took out her tab, which was still displaying a Galactic Free Press article about the job fair that she’d been reading at breakfast. “Hold on a sec, it’s showing an alien language for some reason. I must have accidentally swiped a setting when I was putting it in my purse.”

“Guess again,” Baa said.

Dorothy frowned and made several futile efforts to return the tab to English. “Did my tab fail?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your tab. The ring is cursed.”

“What?” The EarthCent Ambassador’s daughter yanked it off her finger, nearly skinning a knuckle in the process. Then she rechecked the headlines, which were back in English. “Why would you give me a cursed ring, and how is it working outside of a LARPing studio?”

“Jyndal is a Human magic user so her enchantments are real for you in normal space. And the ring was supposed to improve your reading and comprehension, but nine out of ten of her attempts are falling short. If it was easy to be a mage, don’t you think that everybody would do it?”

“But why cursed?”

“That’s what happens with magical mistakes, even my own.” Baa took the ring back and dropped it in the box. “On the bright side, the professional LARPing league will buy all of our quality control rejects to salt into the game as cursed items.”

“What’s cursed?” Myst asked, looking quite chipper as she slipped between them and climbed onto the stool of her 3D workstation. “Did you just get here, Dorothy? Where’s Richard?”

“He’s in the nursery learning the constellations, and Baa has been teaching her new apprentice how to do LARPing enchantments,” Dorothy said. “When magic doesn’t do what you want it turns into a curse.”

“I like Jyndal, she’s nice. But I don’t think Jeeves will be happy if she accidentally curses my matched set of epic jewelry for the new LARPing season. I almost lost my nerve when I found out what the certified natural gems are going to cost.”

“I’ll be doing the enchantments for your jewelry,” Baa said. “I’m also a part-owner in the business, so any mistakes would be coming out of my pocket as well.”

“Do you want to see the final design?” Myst asked, and without waiting for an answer, rapidly navigated the holographic controls to bring up her 3D renderings. “I worked all of last week modifying pieces from my portfolio to fit the themes we saw during the preview when Geb cleaned out the dungeons. Dietro brought me with him yesterday to present to the league executives in person. They went for everything as is, except for the tiara.”

“Are they still complaining about the dungeon bosses we killed?” Baa asked.

“Jeeves got permission from his elders to reset the LARPing space reality, whatever that means, so they aren’t mad at you anymore. But they requested that you leave your cat at home next time you join a raid.”

“I would absolutely wear your tiara,” Dorothy said, her eyes following the slowly rotating hologram of the rejected design. “Did the executives tell you why they didn’t want it?”

“They thought it was too girlish,” Myst said. “Most of the executives are former players and they got into this big discussion over whether tiaras are ever appropriate in LARPs. In the end, I was the only one against dropping it. Dietro showed me some numbers later and I guess that tiaras aren’t exactly flying off jewelry store shelves either. What do you think, Jyndal?” the Gem asked the girl who had just returned.

“I’ve never had any jewelry so I don’t know,” the apprentice said, and then blushed. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was deprived or anything, it’s just that I never had a reason to dress up. The Verlocks wouldn’t have noticed if I did.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” the young clone said. “When I was a little Gem, we all treasured any bit of ornamentation we could find that let us tell each other apart without resorting to telepathy.” She looked closely at Jyndal as if seeing her for the first time. “You haven’t even had your ears pierced.”

“I can do it for you,” Dorothy offered, and began opening and closing drawers. “Where did I put my needle collection?”

“I think I’ll start with clip-ons,” Jyndal said hastily. “Baa warned me that making any changes to my body could affect my magic and I’m having enough trouble not cursing everything as is. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Don’t be. You wouldn’t believe how much fabric I wasted when I was learning to transfer my designs from what I saw in my head to finished clothes. And my attempt to find a cross-species Golden Ratio failed spectacularly.”

“I’m not nervous about my mistakes. Baa explained that it takes a long time to get even the simplest enchantments right and that the cursed objects have their own market. I’m worried about getting hired.”

“After working all weekend?” Dorothy asked. “The job is yours.”

“That’s what I keep telling her,” Baa said. “You’re my apprentice, Jyndal, regardless of what anybody else says. Meeting the rest of the ownership and going through employee orientation is just a formality.”

“You’re worried about our sentient resources department?” Myst asked. “Brinda is great. She interviewed me and Lancelot at the same time, and her questions were mainly about where we saw ourselves going in life. There wasn’t anything about our qualifications or former work experience. Most of the interview went to her explaining the benefits package, which really is great.”

“But what if they don’t like me?” Jyndal asked in a small voice.

“Brinda and Shaina will definitely like you,” Dorothy said. “We aren’t the people who left you behind on that Verlock world, and you aren’t the same girl all of these years later. I’m just thankful that you didn’t learn to speak slowly like some of the other academy world graduates I’ve met.”

“My parents spoke normally at home and the academy head insisted that I practice with a metronome after they passed.”

“Rather than sitting around worrying, get back to work and you can show Dorothy and Myst what you’ve learned,” Baa instructed her apprentice.

“You’re going to let us learn magic alongside Jyndal?” Dorothy asked.

“Unlike in LARPing studios, magic in the real world is inherent. You and Myst could wave your arms around and recite incantations for the rest of your lives without any result.”

“It doesn’t seem fair,” Myst said. “Do any of my people have magical ability?”

“Gem, the female whose clones were the sole inheritors of your civilization, had zero magical potential,” Baa said. “It’s possible that some of the new lines you’ve resurrected from the genetic samples that were preserved by the Farlings will express magic, or that offspring of natural conception between the different lines will throw off new talent. And there’s always the chance of a long-lost population from your species raising their heads when they find out that it’s safe.”

“Do you know something that you aren’t saying, Baa?” Dorothy asked. “Are there other Gem, or whatever they used to call themselves, living in the galaxy?”

“I’m just talking from long experience. Have you centered your Ka, Jyndal?”

“Still working on it,” the apprentice mumbled. “It’s tough to concentrate while you’re all talking.”

“Learning to work with distractions is an important step for young magic users,” the Terragram mage said. “Some never manage, which puts a real crimp on their career options.”

There was a chime in Dorothy’s ear and the word “Jeeves” appeared floating before her eyes on her heads-up display.

“What?” Dorothy subvoced, pointing at her ear so the others would know she was engaged.

“It will take Jyndal another twenty minutes to center her Ka,” the answer came. “Meet me in the nursery.”

Richard was out of the crib and walking beside Jeeves with one hand holding the Stryx’s pincer when the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter entered the nursery.

“He’s been walking without help for months,” Dorothy said. “You’re going to undermine his confidence.”

“Who do you think got him walking first?” Jeeves countered. “And he’s holding onto my pincer because he wants to show me something important.”

“He told you all of that?”

“Richard expresses himself more succinctly than you do. Our conversation began with, ‘Up,’ continued with, ‘Down,’ and proceeded to ‘Come.’”

“Look,” Richard commanded, pointing at something in the corner.

“A five cred piece,” Jeeves exclaimed, employing his newly released pincer to pick it up. “How did that get there? I guess we’ll have to put it in the spaceship bank for a sharp-eyed boy.”

“Ma-ma,” the toddler said, holding his arms up for his mother to lift him.

“Thank you, Jeeves,” Dorothy said, taken aback by her boss’s sudden largess. “Was there something else?”

“We’ve been invited to tour Flower’s garment district before she leaves and I want you to come along,” Jeeves said, depositing the coin in the hollow model of a Sharf two-man trader located on a high shelf with the Cayl bears, Grenouthian bunnies, and various robot toys. “Talk with Dietro and get his input on how much production we’re willing to outsource Flower’s way. It seems that letting Shaina and Brinda work for Daniel all month was a strategic error on my part. They’re both talking about stepping back from day-to-day operations to focus on other pursuits.”

“They’re quitting?”

“Cutting their hours to part-time. I’m hoping it’s just the mid-life crisis you Humans made famous, but it means more responsibilities for you and Dietro.”

“What about Flazint, Affie, and Baa?”

“Affie barely works here anymore and Baa will always do what she wants regardless of my input. I already talked with Flazint and she feels she’s too young to make the move into management. She’s probably afraid that Tzachan’s family would see her as a professional woman and worry that her career will get in the way of family.”

“Myst and Lancelot?”

“They’re teenage part-timers, Dorothy,” Jeeves said. “Shaina and Brinda aren’t talking about selling their equity so you can count on them to keep the business functioning. But when it comes to new initiatives, I’m relying on you and Dietro.”

“Have you told him yet?” Dorothy asked.

“He told me. Dietro is more ambitious than you are now that he needs to prove himself to Affie’s family. It’s the opposite of the situation Flazint finds herself in. Dietro is going to need a better job title than ‘Sales Manager’ to ask a queen for her daughter’s hand in marriage, even though Affie is way down in the succession.”

“Stucky,” Richard contributed.

“Stick, and I told you we don’t call him that anymore,” Dorothy corrected her son. “Do you want to look at the Verlock planetarium holograms or come back to the design room with me?”

“Stars.”

“That one is going to make something of himself,” Jeeves said as Dorothy redeposited Richard in the crib. “You go ahead and watch the magic show. I’ll catch up on my astronomy.”

When Dorothy reentered the design room, Myst was immersed in her 3D modeling station, and Flazint had arrived and was chasing a ball of yarn that was being batted around by an invisible cat.

“If Jyndal can work magic in this madhouse she can do it anywhere,” the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter commented.

“My point exactly,” Baa said and turned to her apprentice. “Found your Ka yet?”

“I think so,” the young woman said. “Should I try channeling?”

“Remember to keep the flow restricted. I don’t want Gryph giving me grief for overdrawing the station’s power grid.”

“What kind of magic are you teaching her?” Dorothy asked. “It doesn’t seem likely that she can bring a Stryx power supply along everywhere she goes.”

“Energy has to come from somewhere—we’re doing magic, not miracles,” Baa said. She took another silver ring off a rod where they were stacked like washers and passed it to her apprentice. “Let’s get back to basics and try a ring of grounding.”

“What’s that?” Dorothy asked, as the apprentice clenched the ring in her fist and closed her eyes in concentration.

“Electrical grounding. Rather than wearing a grounding strap, electronics technicians wearing the ring can work without fear of accumulating static electricity charges that could damage the components they touch.”

“There are electronics technicians in LARPing?”

“Have you already forgotten that since Jyndal is Human it will work for your technicians in the real world?” Baa asked. “I mentioned to Flower that I took on an apprentice and she put in an order.”

Jyndal slumped on her stool and held the ring out to Baa. “I think it’s done. I felt the energy transfer.”

“Recharge from the grid while I test it,” the Terragram mage told her.

“Wait a second,” Dorothy said. “Would it keep fabric from accumulating a static charge while the folds rub together? An antistatic ring would be the perfect match for ball gowns, especially in low humidity.”

“The ring would serve the purpose if Jyndal got it right.” Baa held out the ring, and after a moment’s hesitation, Dorothy took it and slipped it on her ring finger.

“All of my hair just stood on end, didn’t it?” the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter said, afraid to reach up and check.

“Cursed,” Jyndal said despondently. “Where did I go wrong?”

Baa took the ring back from Dorothy and examined it critically. “You got the polarity reversed,” she said and tossed the ring in the box with the other cursed items. “Try again.”

“Why won’t my hair stay down?” Dorothy asked after a minute of trying to smooth it back into place.

“Geb, fix the girl’s hair,” the Terragram said, and then added, “He likes playing with static electricity. And while a properly enchanted ring will work with your ball gowns, it would be far more practical to make our shoes conductive.”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Not unless you think our customers will be working on electrical distribution systems in their heels.”

“How much power does it take to do an enchantment like that?” Flazint asked from her bench where she had started filing down a casting pip on a handmade puzzle clasp fresh from the mold. “Don’t we pay utility bills?”

“An excellent point,” Baa said. “In the vast majority of applications that come to mind, a mundane engineering fix will be cheaper than a magical intervention. In the case of an antistatic ring, you’re talking on the order of ten creds worth of power draw, plus the silver in the ring, making it a much more expensive solution than an antistatic strap costing centees.”

“So why did Flower want some?”

“She intends to offer the rings to her top employees as bonuses so the cost is a lesser consideration.”

“Why were you talking to Flower?” Dorothy asked suspiciously. “I thought you could barely tolerate her.”

“It seems we’re going into business together, or should I say, further into business together. I’ll be accompanying you, Dietro, and Jeeves on your visit when she arrives.”

Eighteen

“I wondered why I heard the hounds going crazy and then I recognized your knapsack when Beowulf passed by with it in his mouth,” Marilla said.

“Had Alexander let go yet or was Beowulf dragging him?” Samuel asked.

“I saw Alexander peel off and head for the chandlery. Your father just went over there for his coffee break.”

“Then I better head there too. Beowulf will drop my knapsack in the ice harvester and then come find us. Is Paul around?”

“He’s out retrieving another batch of ships from the overflow lot,” the Horten girl said. “You wouldn’t believe how many rentals we did for the job fair, and some of the hiring managers still haven’t headed back.”

“Probably living it up on their expense accounts,” Samuel said with a laugh. “We’re having a big picnic tomorrow and I hope you’re coming. You haven’t met my little Rose yet.”

“Where is she now?”

“Blythe was waiting on the travel concourse when Flower’s shuttle docked and she took possession of Vivian and Rose. I may not be the galaxy’s smartest man, but I have better sense than to argue with my mother-in-law.”

 Samuel cut through the empty parking area for Tunnel Trips rentals to Kevin’s chandlery. His father was waiting on one of the high stools with a coffee in each hand.

“Black or tan?” Joe asked.

“Black,” Samuel replied, taking the adjacent stool. “Since when are you willing to drink coffee with milk?”

“A doctor told me to start alternating between black and tan when I hit seventy if I made it this far.”

“M793qK?”

“No, I’m talking about a long time ago. Coffee with cream isn’t undrinkable once you get used to it.”

“That’s setting the bar pretty low,” Samuel observed. “Where’s Kevin?”

“I’m not sure, but Alexander was in and out of the back a couple of minutes ago so I’m sure he’s on the trail,” Joe said. “How’s empire building?”

“It just got a lot harder with the latest treaty update. Back when I agreed to manage the start-up phase we were talking about a timeline that left EarthCent in charge for the next century and a half. Now it looks like if we get everything right, I could be stuck running humanity’s diplomatic service before I’m forty.”

“From what your mother tells me, President Beyer is counting on it. And don’t forget that Kelly survived becoming a full ambassador at thirty-five. You have it in your genes.”

Samuel grimaced. “Sometimes I get the feeling that the whole tunnel network runs on nepotism.”

“Family and nepotism aren’t two peas in a pod,” Joe said. “Sure, the alien ambassadors all keep their eyes open for opportunities to help their relatives, but all aliens in management positions do the same thing. The tunnel network ambassadors have been telling me for years how they look forward to working with you when your mother retires.”

“But that’s just it. I feel like everybody is conspiring to set me up as an emperor. There have to be billions of people working on alien labor contracts trying to figure out how a twenty-something kid from Union Station ended up in charge.”

Joe took a long sip from his cup before replying. “One advantage of cream is that it cools the coffee faster, and I doubt that any of those contract workers you’re worried about have even heard of the Human Empire yet.”

“But eventually they will, and then they’ll find out that Mom was an EarthCent ambassador, that my sister-in-law is the Aisha, and that my wife is an InstaSitter heiress with an aunt who owns the Galactic Free Press and a father who’s the director of EarthCent Intelligence. I even have a sister who works directly for a Stryx.”

“So stick to talking about me if you ever have to give an interview. You know, ‘My father was a poor orphan who worked his way up in the mercenaries and won a junkyard in a poker game.’ People love politicians who tell self-made-man stories about their fathers.”

“I’m serious,” Samuel said. “I want the Human Empire to have an elected leader, but whenever I mention it to anyone from an advanced species they look at me like I have two heads.”

“Are you aware of any aliens who run their empires as democracies?”

“The Gem, sort of, though not really.”

“And over ninety-nine percent of the Gem population is the same individual,” Joe pointed out. “I served on more than a dozen planets and space habitats before I hung up my combat boots, and with the exception of Vergallian worlds, we mainly worked for businesses.”

“But the aliens do have governments,” Samuel protested.

“On habitats, it’s usually a cooperative of sorts, sometimes with a professional manager, sometimes a committee, but that’s not what I’m getting at. The smallest building block of any government is the individual. After that, at least with the aliens, it’s the family and the clan, followed by the community. Accountability starts at the bottom because, without it, nobody can expect accountability from the top.”

“But democracies were held accountable by the voters who could change the leaders with elections,” Samuel argued. “The alien empires all run on—I’m still not sure how they make it work.”

 “That’s your analysis after all of those courses in Vergallian Studies you took at the Open University?” Joe asked, unable to restrain himself from a laugh at his son’s expense. “A young man working in Daniel’s office sent me a meta-history he’s written about the political economy on Earth before the Stryx arrived. I haven’t finished it yet, but it brought back memories of the history I read when I was younger. Modern democracy only had a few hundred years of track record before it required an interstellar bailout from the Stryx because those elected officials refused to look any farther into the future than the next election.”

“Other than Switzerland, none of those governments remain today, so I guess the people did hold them accountable.”

 “The people voted with their feet and signed up for alien labor contracts.”

“If you send me that meta-analysis, I’d like to take a look,” Samuel said. “I’ve been reading Earth’s history more or less at random, and the main flaw I’ve identified in governments was their obsession with past grievances.”

“That’s a good point. Unless the Stryx are lying about the impossibility of time travel there’s nothing anybody can do to fix the past. While you’re planning your empire, try to keep in mind that it’s just another form of infrastructure. The services that people expect from their government are necessarily provided on the local level and you can’t try to manage that from light-years away.”

“By local level, you’re talking about planets?” Samuel asked.

“I’m talking about communities where everybody knows each other,” Joe said and took another sip of his coffee. “The idea that total strangers can make informed decisions about people they’ve never met is just hubris.”

“And what’s hubris?” Kevin asked, slipping in behind the counter. “Welcome home, Sam. Alexander was so excited that his barking was incoherent.”

“Hubris is a vocabulary word from EarthCent’s civil service exam,” Joe told his son-in-law. “It means excessive self-confidence and pride in your own conclusions. Ofer mentioned it the other day when he stopped in to borrow some beer.”

“Since when do you loan beer?” Samuel asked.

“Special case, he brings me empty bottles,” Joe said. “Ofer is the young man I mentioned who works for Daniel. Has your mother written you about him?”

“No, but the name sounds familiar,” Samuel said. He took a sip from his coffee while he thought for a moment. “I’ve got it. Donna sent me the pass list from the last civil service exam and Ofer had the top score among humans. He even beat some aliens.”

“Maybe he’d make a good technocrat. Ofer doesn’t have many marketable skills but he seems eager to learn.”

“He’d have to be pretty good at math and science to do so well on the test. Do you think I should staff the Human Empire with technocrats?”

“Who else would you hire?” Kevin asked. “All of the alien empires run on technocrats, even the Vergallians.”

“You think of queens as technocrats?”

 “What’s a princess if not a genetically selected technocrat with a specialist education and training in managing societies? Ending up as queen is mainly a matter of bad luck in the birth order.”

“You’ve been away from Union Station since Affie took over the Alt’s affairs,” Joe told his son. “One day she was the Vergallian equivalent of a party girl with a dilettante job at SBJ Fashions, the next day she was working as a contract queen as if she’d been born to the job—because she was.”

“And it turns out that Dietro was brought up by a cult of assassins, so don’t get on his bad side,” Kevin added. “What do you think of the coffee?”

“It’s good,” Samuel allowed. “Dad had it ready for me so I didn’t see what kind of coffee maker you’re using.”

Joe held up a foil package. “It’s instant. A new process from Drazen Foods.”

“I can’t believe—” Samuel cut off abruptly and pointed at his ear for a moment. Then he jumped down from the stool. “I forgot that I asked Vivian to have her father send our Verlock friend from Open University to meet me in the embassy’s conference room. He’s sort of EarthCent Intelligence’s expert on the tunnel network treaty.”

“Late to your own meetings,” Kevin said and winked at his father-in-law. “Emperor’s privilege.”

“Tell your mother that Fenna is making dinner,” Joe called after his son. “Aisha said it’s time to remove the training wheels.”

Neither of the Cayl hounds had taken much interest in the talk about governments but Samuel running for the lift tube looked like an invitation to play. They took turns blocking and tackling the First Administrator of the Human Empire until he escaped into the corridor lift tube.

“EarthCent Embassy,” Samuel huffed, all out of breath. “Are Aabina and my mother available to come to the meeting, Libby?”

“I’ll ping her,” the station librarian replied. Two seconds later, Libby continued, “Aabina will come. Your mother and Donna left for the day as soon as they found out that Blythe had intercepted Vivian and Rose on the concourse.”

“I hope they aren’t fighting over her. Is Daniel available?”

“He’s on a conference call, but it may be winding up so I’ll let him know once he’s free.”

“Thank you,” Samuel said. He stuck a pinkie through a canine-sized hole in his shirttails and tried to guess whether it had been made by Beowulf or Alexander. He tucked the shirttails back into his pants before approaching the corridor door to the conference room.

“Did you invite Katya and Sabina?” Aabina asked as the EarthCent ambassador’s son entered.

Samuel shook his head. “They left for Flower as soon as we arrived so we passed each other in space. Vivian said I should just call them back, but I don’t want the twins thinking that I’m trying to order them around.”

“I suspect you’re right,” the Vergallian said. “You’ll have plenty of time to get their input when you return to Flower, and too many people at a meeting is worse than too few.”

“Isn’t Wrylenth here?”

“He’s making coffee. Supposedly the analysts in his section at EarthCent Intelligence won’t drink anybody else’s brew.”

“I just had a cup so I’m set,” Samuel said, thankful for an excuse not to drink the insanely strong brew that Verlocks favored.

Wrylenth emerged from the kitchen with a giant steaming mug and greeted his university friend, “Emperor McAllister.”

“I wish that everybody would stop with the emperor jokes. Don’t you realize that they work the same way as lies?”

“I don’t see the relation between the two.”

“If you repeat something often enough everybody will start believing it,” Samuel said.

The two aliens exchanged looks, and Wrylenth said, “That must be a Human thing. And I wasn’t joking.”

“My title is First Administrator.”

“You can call yourself whatever you want but basic etiquette requires us to address an individual leading an empire as emperor. That’s true even in the case of a paid administrator hired from a different species.”

“You mean the Human Empire could hire an alien as emperor, the way the Alts are using contract queens?” Samuel asked.

“The parallel isn’t precise, but in the broadest sense, yes.”

“We’re getting caught up in trivia,” Aabina said. “What do you make of the new milestones, Samuel?”

The EarthCent ambassador’s son made a face. “On one hand, it’s obvious that the Stryx included some low-hanging fruit for us. I feel confident that our school of government will be operational in time for the first milestone review. There’s also a pretty good chance that the GenePost app will meet the requirement for making communications available to our citizens, and Vivian has Flower’s programmers pushing that forward.”

“Human programmers?” Wrylenth asked sharply.

“Yes,” Samuel said. “They’re mainly from the group Flower picked up at Bits a couple of years ago and employed in her anime studios.”

“How are you paying them?”

“The money comes from the All Species Cookbook,” Aabina told the Verlock. “The Human Empire is on the way to becoming our primary channel for getting rid of money, as Ambassador McAllister puts it.”

“That’s acceptable,” the Verlock said. “The funding for Human Empire projects must derive from majority-Human sources but there are no other limitations. The All Species Cookbook would also meet the milestone for a multi-species publication if you could demonstrate the involvement of one or more direct employees of the Human Empire.”

“Flower mentioned that on the shuttle when she was giving me an unsolicited briefing,” Samuel said with a wry smile. “She employs a friend of ours who works with M793qK certifying products for the All Species Cookbook and she’s willing to move him to our payroll.”

“Bill?” Aabina asked.

“Yes, he’s a nice guy, plans to open a café one day. But that only covers three of the milestones, unless we can get credit for a commercial fleet for the Trader’s Guild.”

“Your Minister of Trade is the elected head of their council,” Wrylenth said, glancing down at his tab. “He may have to sneak a few changes into their charter but the number of ships and the regular Rendezvous will qualify the Human Empire for a commercial fleet.”

“I think you’ll find the other milestones for the first review equally attainable, providing everyone can demonstrate accountability,” Aabina said. “From my reading of the new language, the real trick is showing that your institutions and organizations are sustainable for the long term.”

“Not an area where humanity has a great track record unless you include religions,” Samuel admitted. “When I think of sustainability, I think of not using up all of the resources or strip mining a planet. I have the feeling that the Stryx are using sustainable to mean something else, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

“The accountability I mentioned is a big part of it,” Aabina said. “The core mission for any government, whether a queen, an emperor, an elected governor, or simply a paid manager, is competence. Good government requires competent leaders who address foreseeable disasters in the most economically efficient manner possible. Everything else is drama.”

“That’s a fair assessment, as far as generalizations go,” the Verlock said slowly. “Do you know the Mayor of Floaters, Samuel?”

“Bob? He’s my father-in-law-by-marriage or something like that,” Samuel said. “Vivian’s brother Jonah married Bob’s daughter Sephia.”

“One of our open worlds analysts was on vacation last week so I stood in for him to interview Bob for our survey on Chianga business conditions. It turns out that the Mayor of Floaters has been trying to resign the post for years but his factory won’t allow it.”

“Because he’s competent?”

“That and the Dollnicks prefer to work with the same person for a reasonable period of time,” Wrylenth said. “The few decades that encompass a Human’s idea of a career look more like a tryout to the advanced species.”

“Are you suggesting that one of the metrics the Stryx will use to judge our progress on the benchmarks is staff turnover?” Samuel asked.

“Exactly.”

“And focus,” Aabina said. “Take the GenePost project. Vivian’s mission statement is to create an app and a genetic database that will allow Humans to contact long-lost relatives in a secure manner. Somebody who wishes to remain lost will have the option not to respond without fear of a visitor showing up at their door.”

“Are you suggesting that’s too ambitious?” Samuel asked.

“No, I’m saying that it’s a perfectly reasonable project and one that if properly implemented will meet a milestone. But if you start charging users for access to that hidden personal information you’ll lose credit for having shifted the focus to increasing profitability.”

“So you’re saying that we’ll also be judged on finishing what we set out to accomplish,”’ Samuel said. “I guess competence is king.”

“Queen,” Aabina corrected him.

“I understand what it means to be held accountable and a big part of that has to be measuring and reporting on our progress. Does the tunnel network have any standard system for measuring competence?”

“Measurement begins with a proper description of the experimental setup,” Wrylenth told him. “How would you define competence?”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Samuel admitted. “My dad always says that competent engineers solve problems within a stated budget, and maybe that could apply to government as well.”

“That’s not a bad start,” Aabina said. “Our royal training stresses completing bite-sized projects immediately, and for ongoing or long-dated projects, to put them on a schedule and monitor progress at fixed intervals. One of the greatest pitfalls for leaders is the illusion that they can stay on top of everything by multitasking. We aren’t artificial intelligence, and our efficiency falls rapidly when we try solving multiple problems at the same time.”

“What’s my mom’s secret?” Samuel asked. “The diplomacy experts we’ve been consulting about starting the school of government say she makes being an ambassador look easy.”

Wrylenth pointed across the table at Aabina.

“I’m a tiny part of it and I’ve only been working for Ambassador McAllister for a handful of years,” the Vergallian protested. “Your mother’s support starts with Donna, Libby, and your father, all of whom have been with her since the beginning. Then add in the help she’s received from the other Union Station ambassadors over the years when their interests aligned, or at least weren’t at cross purposes. And without Daniel, there would be no Conference of Sovereign Human Communities or Human Empire.”

“Successful delegation of authority is a critical metric of competence,” Wrylenth declared. “The usual measurement methodology is to calculate separate competence ratings for each individual in a chain of command, add them all up, and then divide by the total number of subordinates. Some statisticians attempt to weigh the individual ratings by the importance of the task, but this introduces another layer of subjectivity.”

“The Verlocks do this?” Samuel asked.

“Of course. I’ve tried without success to convince EarthCent Intelligence to adopt a simplified rating system for employees. I believe they’re concerned about the possible effect on morale.”

“I think I’m game to give it a shot,” Samuel said. “If we institute a rigorous competence rating system for employees now before we start hiring in earnest, it will just be part of the package and nobody will be offended.”

Aabina looked unconvinced. “Is that the sort of thing you would make public, or would it be for internal use only? If I was approaching an alien government about a problem and I had a choice of who to contact, I’d go for somebody with a high competence rating.”

“It works both ways,” Wrylenth said. “Our diplomatic service once tried publishing the competence ratings of our ambassadors and staff, but it immediately became apparent that the diplomats and businessmen of the other species were using the ratings improperly.”

“You mean they were venue shopping your embassies to get the result they wanted,” Aabina surmised. “Given the importance of timing in business and diplomacy, I can see where information about the efficiency of one embassy versus another could be used against you.”

“Yes, and given the lifespans of our diplomats, it took centuries before the personnel had all changed and we were able to return to the status quo.”

“We’ll keep the results private,” Samuel said. “Do you think you’ll be available to teach a seminar on tunnel network law when our school opens, Wrylenth? With Flower’s unlimited Stryxnet bandwidth, it would be a remote holoconference."

“If you absolutely can’t find anyone else, but I think that pulling in current EarthCent diplomatic or intelligence personnel from Union Station would send the wrong message about your own competence,” the Verlock said slowly. “I believe you still have enough time before the planned opening of the school to find guest lecturers for a seminar who aren’t current EarthCent employees.”

“He’s right,” Aabina said. “I didn’t think of that when you asked me to teach a session, but you do want to show that the Human Empire isn’t dependent on EarthCent for everything.”

“All right, I’m beginning to get the message,” Samuel said. “It’s okay to accept funding from EarthCent in the start-up phase but we should try to be as independent as possible.” He pointed at his ear for a moment. “Libby says that Daniel is still tied up, so I’m going to go spend some more time with my dad. We’re having a picnic tomorrow, you’re both invited, but I’m going to spend the last couple days of our stop back on Flower giving tours of Human Empire headquarters because some of the Union Station ambassadors expressed an interest.”

Nineteen

“You don’t have a single sword on the wall,” Dietro said. “What kind of empire are you running?”

“The peaceful kind,” Samuel said, wrapping up the tour of Human Empire headquarters for the visitors from SBJ Fashions. “I would have introduced you to our Cayl mentor, but she had a hound emergency and had to run home.”

“Were they chasing people in the corridors?” Dorothy asked.

“Krey lives on the reservoir deck in an experimental house that Flower originally built for me and Vivian. Her hounds have made friends with some of the larger Dollnick aquatic life, and they tend to be overprotective when anglers try to violate the rules, like with bow hunting.”

“That sounds like a quick recipe to go from fisherman to fish food.”

“When Krey returns, ask her to ping me,” Baa said. “Private business.”

“Wait a second,” Dorothy said as Samuel escorted the delegation towards the door. “You’re holding out on us.”

“If you’re talking about Rose, Mom and Blythe are holding her hostage until the last shuttle from Union Station,” Samuel said.

“I meant your throne room. Is there a secret passage?”

“Very funny. Tell the lift tube to take you to Flower Textiles and Julie will be waiting. You met her at my wedding.”

“She was one of your Open University friends, right?” Dorothy asked. “Wasn’t she with the Drazen girl who sang a few numbers and then the two of them acted as Vivian’s bridal escort?”

“We met Julie for the first time at the wedding,” Samuel said. “She and the Drazen girl, Rinka, live on Flower. They didn’t need to return to Union Station after escort duties, plus they were sober.”

“And Julie happens to work for Flower Textiles?”

“She’s sort of Flower’s Girl Friday.” Samuel stepped back as the delegation from SBJ Fashions entered the lift tube outside Human Empire headquarters. “See you next time we stop at Union Station.”

“Not if I see you first, Emperor,” Dorothy said, dropping a mock curtsy as the capsule doors closed.

“Is your brother really an emperor?” Jyndal asked, the first words she had spoken since being introduced.

“He calls himself the First Administrator, but when the Human Empire takes over from EarthCent, I bet he’s going to find himself emperor whether he likes it or not. I don’t have the experience with diplomacy my mom or my brother do, but I know my aliens, and they don’t like it when we try to make up new names for things that have existed forever. It just makes for sloppy translations.”

“Those may be the wisest words you’ve ever spoken,” Jeeves said to Dorothy. “Try to maintain that level of insight when you and Dietro are negotiating with Flower.”

“Can she hear us now?” Dietro asked.

“Of course,” the Dollnick AI replied through the capsule’s speaker grille. “My Stryx mentor forbade Jeeves from blocking me on my own ship.”

“Hi, Flower,” Dorothy said, even adding a friendly wave at nothing in particular. “I really liked some of the designs you sent over.”

“Then why haven’t you started producing any of them?”

“It’s a branding thing. Your style isn’t the SBJ Fashions style, and if it was, we’d have to sue you for infringement.”

The lift tube doors slid open and they were greeted by a young woman who was waiting a polite three steps back to allow them room to exit the capsule.

“Welcome to Flower Textiles,” Julie said, trying not to stare at Baa. “Will Shaina be joining you later? She’s been my main point of contact with SBJ Fashions to date.”

“Shaina and Brinda are stepping back from new business activities to give the younger generation a chance to develop,” Jeeves informed her. “And I should state officially that I’m only here as an observer—Dorothy and Dietro have my full confidence.”

“He’s Dietro, and I’m Dorothy, if you don’t remember me from Samuel and Vivian’s wedding,” the EarthCent ambassador’s daughter introduced herself. “Baa does all of the enchantments for our LARPing line, Jyndal is her apprentice, and I guess you know who Jeeves is.”

“My husband’s first job on board Flower was as an apprentice in Colonial Jeevesburg,” Julie said. 

“We’ve met before,” Jeeves told Dorothy

Julie pointed at her ear to let the guests know she was receiving a ping over her implant, and after listening for almost thirty seconds, she grimaced. “Flower says that a new broom sweeps clean. She wants me to pitch you on our full outsourcing proposal that Shaina turned down last cycle.”

“We all participated in that decision,” Dorothy said. “As a matter of fact, one of the reasons we’re here today is to talk with you about acquiring more treadle-powered sewing machines for our new facility.”

“Flower wants me to point out that we have a flexible workforce of seamstresses who are already experts with low-tech sewing machines. But let me show you around first and then we can talk in the conference room.” Julie began walking backward, a habit she’d picked up when leading tours for the independent living facility. “You’ve probably noticed that your weight on this deck is only about sixty-five percent of Earth normal, which Flower insists is ideal for light industrial activity.”

“Is she using this deck for anything other than textiles?” Dietro asked. “All I see so far is storage space.”

“We’re still remodeling, the entrance to the factory floor is another two doors up. And in answer to your first question, Flower’s current development plan dedicates the entire deck to the textile vertical. We have spinning, dyeing, weaving, everything right up through producing finished clothes. We’re negotiating with several Frunge textile concerns to handle some of their overflow orders for hand-made goods.”

“And the sewing machines are—” Dietro lost the thread of his question when the doors slid open on a factory floor where treadle-powered sewing machines stretched as far as the eye could see.

“How many machines did Flower install?” Dorothy asked, unable to keep the awe from her voice.

“She started with a hundred Frunge machines specifically to prove to Shaina that we had the capacity to be your main subcontractor for the bespoke dress orders resulting from your nanofabric franchise fittings,” Julie said, trying and failing to suppress a sigh. “Then it turned out that the Vergallian spy who runs a finishing school on board knew somebody who knew somebody who had a source for reconditioned treadle-powered machines from their tech ban worlds.”

“But there must be—” Dorothy paused for a moment as she counted the rows of machines up to where they disappeared into the curvature of the deck “—thousands!”

“We seem to be picking up more every time we stop at a Vergallian world. It turns out that the same machines are very popular with people in the Old Way movement. Offering temporary employment to the emigrants on their way to Earth Two lets them save a few Stryx creds.”

“The people or Flower?” Baa asked.

“Both,” Julie said and flushed lightly. “Flower has very definite ideas about keeping passengers busy and I’ve stopped arguing with her.”

“And I’m sure she hopes to convince as many Old Way colonists as possible to remain on board rather than disembarking at Earth Two,” Jeeves said. “I believe she’s getting closer to another one of the bonuses my elders promised her for reaching population milestones.”

“How come I can’t hear any of the machines?” Jyndal asked.

“The sound is being damped by acoustic suppression fields, though when we walk between them, you’ll hear enough to get the effect,” Julie explained. “We follow Drazen standards for industrial noise levels because they have the most sensitive hearing of the tunnel network species.”

“What I want to know is what they’re all sewing,” Dietro said. “Has Flower already leveraged the work we gave you to start soliciting jobs from our competition?”

Julie sighed again. “Flower Apparel.”

“She started her own fashion line?”

“Work clothes for the farm. I tried to convince her to go with a more rugged name, like, well, anything other than Flower Apparel, but…”

“Flower’s probably right,” Dietro said. “While it may not sound ideal for work clothes, she’s building a brand, and ultimately the customers will associate that name with whatever she produces.”

“Work clothing sewn on treadle machines to meet the standard for hand-made,” Jeeves said, blinking the lights on his casing. “If Flower starts marketing it to people with desk jobs who fantasize about getting back to nature she’ll make fantastic margins. Are you patterning exclusively for Humans?”

Julie opened her mouth to reply and then pointed at her ear. After a brief delay, she replied apologetically, “That information is confidential.”

Dorothy pointed to where one of the sewing machine operators was holding a completed garment up for inspection. “Four arms. She’s already expanded into the Dollnick market if nothing else.”

“If we can return to the topic at hand, is Flower willing to sell us any more machines before she departs?” Dietro asked.

“Are you asking because you want to buy machines or because you’re negotiating?” Julie countered.

Dietro grinned. “I see you’ve been doing this for a while. The answer is both. How many new stitchers do you think we can count on, Dorothy?”

 “I took applications from over five hundred at the job fair. Maybe a fifth of those are a realistic match for our new production facility, though many of those would be part-time.”

Julie consulted with Flower again. “We’ll supply you with another twenty-five machines as a gesture of goodwill, but I think when you see our new pricing structure, you’ll have to agree that producing clothes on Union Station will cost you more.”

When Julie completed her presentation in the conference room an hour later, Dietro and Dorothy were forced to admit that they couldn’t match Flower’s pricing.

“But we still want the machines,” Dorothy said. “It may make sense to give you all of the production for our franchises but we still want to build our local ability to react quickly to sudden surges in demand for standard sizes that can be altered at boutiques. We don’t believe in putting all of our creds in one pouch.”

“Speaking of pouches, Flower is interested in subcontracting production work for Baa’s Bags,” Julie said, glancing nervously at the Terragram mage. “She promised you wouldn’t turn me into anything for asking.”

Baa shook her head. “I already work around the clock during the LARPing season to keep up with enchantments on our current production, and Flazint would start pulling out her hair vines if we outsourced her puzzle clasps. Once my apprentice is up to speed, we can talk again.”

“Do you really think I’ll be able to do bags of holding?” Jyndal asked.

“Of course. I’m a terrific teacher.”

“Is there anything else Flower wants from us, or can we do a little shopping before we head back?” Dorothy asked. “It’s always interesting to visit the bazaar and see what fashions the vendors have picked up at your stops.”

Julie glanced at the mage again. “If it’s okay with Jyndal, M793qK would like to examine her. Magical ability in humans is rare enough that he hasn’t come across it yet, and he wants to—how did he put it—take a peek at her genome.”

“Is M793qK an artificial intelligence?” Jyndal asked.

“Farling,” Baa told her. “You can trust him on medical issues but I’ll come along just to make sure he doesn’t clone you.”

“Could he do that?”

“Clone a mammal? It’s a trivial process, but with the exception of certain medical emergencies, the advanced species all consider cloning to be in extremely bad taste.”

“Oh, and Dorothy,” Julie said guiltily. “Flower wants you to tell your sister-in-law that we’d be honored to host a Let’s Make Friends camp as soon as the concept is hammered out. I think it’s rude to ask you to approach Aisha, but Flower won’t stop talking about it in my ear.”

“You don’t have a large enough population of aliens on board for a multi-species camp experience,” Dorothy pointed out.

“We have plenty of little Zarents, and Flower says she can always find more aliens for a week of camp. We could hold it at the same time as an extended anime convention and get the parents and the children at the same time.”

“I think the Verlocks and Aisha have something longer in mind, like a summer camp.”

“Flower wants to talk to them about that as well,” Julie said. “She believes a better model would be to run shorter camps on a recurring basis.”

Once the SBJ Fashions delegation was back in the lift tube capsule, Dietro said, “There’s an important lesson for business we can all learn from Flower. You can’t make a sale if you don’t ask.”

“She’s too pushy,” Dorothy said. “Flower didn’t stop with one proposal, she made a half-dozen.”

“Are you going to talk to Aisha?” Jeeves asked.

“Well, yes, but that’s not the point.”

“Of course, it’s the point,” Dietro said. “Did anybody tell the lift tube where we’re going?”

“M793qK’s clinic, and then the Bazaar,” Flower informed them via the overhead speaker grille. “And I’m not pushy, I’m proactive.”

The door of the Farling doctor’s clinic slid open when Baa and Jyndal approached, and the mage insisted that her apprentice enter first. When Baa followed, a cocoon of energy flared up around her as she passed through the bank of medical scanners, causing the doctor to rub out a curse on his speaking legs.

“It wouldn’t kill you to let me have a look,” M793qK said to the mage. “And is this your magical Human?”

“You’re a giant buh—, bee—, in—…” Jyndal trailed off.

“Farling. It’s normal for lesser species to be awed into speechlessness the first time they enter my presence. Ofer here told me he’d never seen such an impressive example of superior biology.”

“I did not,” the young man who was sitting on the examination table behind the giant beetle said irritably. “He keeps putting words in my mouth.”

“Better my words than those long-dead Human ideologues you keep quoting,” M793qK continued as he rummaged through a drawer of medical supplies. “I’m tempted to do brain surgery on you so I can publish an article about the first Marxectomy.”

“Maybe we should come back later,” Jyndal said, edging towards the door.

“I won’t let him do anything to you,” Baa said. “What did you get from the scanners, M?”

“Perfectly healthy, no extra organs to speak of, but a measurable aura, the first I’ve seen on a Human. You should teach her to suppress it just in case she ever visits a place where mages are persona non grata. Just let me get a blood sample and I’ll run it through the sequencer as soon as I get the results on whether or not Ofer is truly working class.”

“It’s not a biological category,” the young man rose to the bait. “The proletariat produces the goods and services that create a society’s wealth.”

An impressive piece of equipment that had the look of a prototype sounded a happy chime and the Farling doctor slipped past Baa’s apprentice to check the results. “Completely vanilla,” he said in disgust. “If you have no objections, I’ll forward the data to the Human Empire for inclusion in their family database.”

“You mean they’ll be able to tell me if I have any living relatives?” Ofer asked.

“Perhaps in the not-too-distant future, say a couple of years,” the doctor replied. “The database is new and most of the data they’ve collected is from Humans living on Flower or passing through. Vivian has plans to distribute genetic sampling kits more widely once the infrastructure to process them is in place.”

“Could you do the same for me?” Jyndal asked. “I don’t know if I have any living family.”

“Just let me mark a spot for the blood draw.” M793qK used his fine manipulator limbs to uncap a pen and pressed it against a vein in the girl’s forearm. “All done.”

“I don’t see a mark.”

“He just took your blood,” Ofer said. “Why don’t you know your family? Were you brought up by alien AI from childhood  like me?”

“Verlocks, from my early teens,” Jyndal said. “I never even spoke to an artificial intelligence until I arrived on Union Station.”

“Are you going to be as powerful as her?” Ofer asked, pointing at the Terragram mage. “Affie took me Live Action Role Playing with her SBJ Fashions workmates and Baa wrecked the place.”

“That was Geb,” the mage said modestly. “I favor a more surgical approach.”

“I’m just an apprentice, and most of what I touch ends up cursed,” Jyndal told him shyly.

“So you’re like a working-class mage,” Ofer said. “That makes it okay.”

“If you want to ask her out for a date, wait until I get the DNA sequencer results,” M793qK rubbed out on his speaking legs. “For all you know, you could be brother and sister.” The machine chimed and the Farling glanced at the results. “You aren’t even from the same ethnic group. Be fruitful and multiply.”

“I suspect you just set their relationship back a month,” Baa chastised the doctor as both of the young humans blushed beet red. “Do you have any more tests to run, or are the scan and the blood sample sufficient?”

“Just one,” the Farling said and focused his multifaceted eyes on the young woman. “Read the characters from the smallest line you can see.”

“G, B, Y, either I or 1, K,” Jyndal said.

“You aren’t looking at the eye chart,” Ofer objected. He pointed behind her. “It’s over there and it’s not even in English.”

“Impressive,” M793qK said, and Baa nodded her concurrence. “You have a strong affinity for general telepathy, young lady. You may find that you can share your thoughts with Vergallian truthsayers or communicate with some of the non-humanoid advanced species, such as Huktra or Tyrellians.”

“All right,” Baa said, and handed her apprentice a five cred piece. “The library is right down the corridor and first-time visitors get a free book. There’s a nice café run by a Frunge that Flower can guide you to if you want to take pity on Ofer and buy him a cup of tea. All of the communists I’ve ever met forgot their wallets at home.”

“I have my change purse right—” Ofer broke off when his hand reached the bottom of his pocket without touching anything. “It must be in my other pants.”

M793qK shook silently while the young couple left the clinic, and then his wings popped partially out of his carapace in a display of amusement. “The communists always forget their wallets at home. Well observed, Baa.”

“Humans had a rough industrial age that spawned all sorts of radical social movements, not that I’m interested enough to be an expert,” the Terragram mage said. “I could do most of the SBJ Fashions enchantments in my sleep so I’ve started watching Grenouthian documentaries about Earth while I work.”

“Have you made any progress otherwise?”

“Does that question mean that Flower is a party to your plans, or are you shielding the clinic?”

“M793qK and I have reached an understanding,” the Dollnick AI announced. “And I’ve informed the Cayl emperor’s granddaughter that you’re together. She’s on her way.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?” Baa asked the Farling.

“Krey agreed to bring my proposal to her grandfather the next time she returns to Cayl space,” M793qK replied.

“In exchange for…”

“You don’t have a need to know.”

“What I do have a need to know is how the Humans ended up in the middle of everything,” Baa said. “Is it just me, or are the Stryx using them as a lever to move the galaxy?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but as my investigations show, there’s more to the Human genome than can be explained by random mating. And perhaps our host can tell us why she pressed us into service matchmaking for a couple who don’t even live on board.”

“A favor for my mentor,” Flower said.

M793qK’s multifaceted eyes glowed with an inner light. “Then may I presume that Libby owes me one?”

Twenty

“The Verlock and Grenouthian ambassadors are here to see you,” Donna’s voice announced from Kelly’s display desk.

“I’ll be right out.” As the EarthCent ambassador rose from her chair, she glanced at the ceiling and said, “I’ll do it because you asked, but if he turns out to be a disaster, I get to tell you so.”

“He won’t be a disaster,” the station librarian said. “Enjoy your meeting.”

“I just hope they’re not here to use me as a ventriloquist’s dummy so they can hold a conversation without violating Aisha’s contract terms.”

“The ambassadors are waiting in the conference room,” Donna said as soon as Kelly stepped out of the office. “Srythlan said it won’t take five minutes.”

“Thank you.” Halfway across the lobby, Kelly asked over her shoulder, “Is Daniel still planning a party for Ofer?”

“I’m heading out to pick up the cake in a minute.”

“What kind?”

“Dark Forest,” Donna said. “Ofer has fallen in love—with chocolate.”

“We’ll talk when you get back.” Kelly continued on to the conference room where the alien ambassadors were studying a hologram projected over the large table.

“For the camp,” Srythlan told her without looking up.

“A theatre? I think that’s an excellent idea, though the stage looks too small.”

“It’s a lecture hall,” the Grenouthian ambassador said, and Kelly’s implant colored the translation of the alien’s words with exasperation. “I’ve been trying to explain to our esteemed colleague that not all children share the Verlock love of classroom learning but it’s like talking to a stone.”

“Formal lectures do seem a bit much for the age group,” Kelly said. “I thought the purpose of Let’s Make Friends camp was for the children of different species to learn about each other through interactions like playing and singing. It’s hard to see how they could do that sitting in a lecture hall that appears to be segregated by the size of the species.”

“That’s how lecture hall seating is sold,” Srythlan said. “The chairs would all get in a jumble if they weren’t connected in rows.”

“I think you’re missing the point,” Kelly said. “Do you ever see the children on Let’s Make Friends sitting in a classroom? Aisha plans every activity to make sure that all of the children participate. Even if it’s just storytelling, she starts them off and lets the cast members take turns finishing the story. I’m sure she wants something similar for the camp.”

“We didn’t imagine that the children would spend eight hours sitting in class, but surely they’d get bored playing all day.”

“Not that I’ve noticed. Look, if you’ve already ordered the seating, just expand the podium into a stage and they can put on plays or performances.”

“It was only an idea,” Srythlan said with a sigh, waving the hologram out of existence. “The Association of Children’s Academies already has a morning curriculum prepared based on recess best practices and they’re consulting with experts from other species for programming the afternoon. Everybody has agreed to work on the Human clock in the spirit of Let’s Make Friends, so there wouldn’t have been enough time in the day for a good lecture in any case.”

“Recess best practices?” Kelly asked. “Don’t you ever allow your children to just play?”

“Of course we do. One of the top tourist attractions on our homeworld is the Imperial Educational Toys and Games Museum.”

The Grenouthian ambassador caught Kelly’s eye and shook his head, imploring her to drop the argument. “The lecture hall isn’t why we came,” he said. “Stryx Gryph has confirmed the offer of space on one of the hidden decks that happens to have a large park area uninhabited by anything dangerous to little sentients. There’s a token payment of one cred per cycle for legal reasons, and Srythlan suggested that you contact your son for his power of attorney to lease the space for the Human Empire. That way you can sublet it to the camp.”

“Why would Samuel want to be in the middle of a private real estate transaction? He has enough on his plate without trying to—would this count towards his milestones?”

“Participating in a multi-species business venture that promotes children’s welfare and employs third-party infrastructure. Did you know that the Tharks are making book on whether the Human Empire can meet all of the milestones before the first review?”

Kelly stared at the Grenouthian. “You mean if I go to the off-world betting parlor I’ll see the odds up on the big board?”

“You’d have to ask at the betting windows,” the alien ambassador said. “The list of milestones is too long and the event is too far in the future to merit ongoing display, but it’s the best time to place an emotional bet.”

“What does that mean?”

“The Human Empire’s lack of a track record in achieving milestones means that the current odds are just a guess on the part of the Tharks,” Srythlan told her. “As the years pass and Samuel checks items off the list, punters will be able to extrapolate from his progress or lack thereof, and the odds will converge towards a data-driven prediction.”

“I think I understand,” Kelly said as the Grenouthian ambassador rose. “Are you in a hurry to be somewhere?”

“We have a meeting at the network to discuss Let’s Make Friends branding on camp apparel,” the Grenouthian explained as he waited for his lumbering colleague to catch up. “Aisha is willing to waive her royalty share, but the network attorneys are refusing for fear of creating a de facto precedent for future tertiary rights.”

Kelly stood out of respect as the ambassadors exited the conference room through the corridor door, and then she sat back down to write herself a note to contact Samuel for his limited power of attorney. The door to CoSHC’s offices slid open and Ofer wandered through, his nose in a book.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Kelly said. “I need to talk to you about your work.”

“Not again,” Ofer groaned, looking up from the thin paperback. “That’s what Daniel said this morning before he let me go, though I guess it doesn’t officially count as being fired since I’m still in the probationary period.”

“Did you accept his reasons?”

“I don’t have much experience with people, but I did figure out that the CoSHC members don’t like me.”

“It’s not you they don’t like, it’s your attitude towards business,” Kelly explained. “The Conference of Sovereign Human Communities is a business organization, and it’s not too much of a stretch to say the same for the entire tunnel network.”

“I know, and I’m working on it,” Ofer said, putting his book down in front of Kelly. “Have you read this?”

“Animal Farm? Joe has a copy. I started it once but the characters didn’t speak to me. Where on Earth did you find a copy?”

“In Flower’s library – Jyndal dowsed it out for me.”

“Jyndal,” Kelly said. “Isn’t that the girl Dorothy told me about who’s become Baa’s apprentice?”

“She’s super magical and I think she likes me,” Ofer said, his face brightening. “To tell you the truth, I was getting ready to quit CoSHC on my own, but now I want to find a new job first so Jyndal won’t see me unemployed.”

“Then how about coming to work for me?”

“Really? Do you need an office boy? I know I keep burning the coffee, but Aabina says there’s an alarm function built into my implant if I can just remember to set it.”

“You’re overqualified to be an office boy, Ofer. I want to hire you as a historian. It’s not an official job title with EarthCent yet so Donna will probably list you as an administrative assistant. We need to start recording the history of EarthCent and to document the birth of the Human Empire. Somebody I trust implicitly advised me that you’re the ideal candidate. The job will combine archival research with speaking to living diplomats and attending tunnel network meetings. My husband told me that your meta-analysis of nineteenth century Earth history was both comprehensive and engaging.”

“What did you think of it?”

“It’s on my reading list,” Kelly fibbed.

“Can I stay on Union Station or would I have to travel all of the time?” Ofer asked.

“I imagine it will take you a good year to get up to speed on EarthCent’s background, which you can do on Union Station. After that, I imagine you’ll want to spend time visiting our embassies and important players, as well as Earth, but you’ll continue working out of my embassy.” Kelly noted Ofer’s body language and added, “If you’re not comfortable with the idea of traveling again because you spent the last twenty years on a cargo carrier, I’ll understand.”

“It’s not that, I just don’t want to leave Jyndal alone. What if she meets somebody else while I’m away?”

“Sounds like you’re smitten,” Kelly said with a smile. “Let me know if you need any dating advice.”

“I don’t think so,” Ofer said in his typically blunt manner. “Jeeves told me that he used to work as a troubleshooter for the station librarian’s dating service and that you were one of his toughest challenges.”

The EarthCent ambassador managed to maintain her smile and even threw in an artificial laugh to show she wasn’t offended, not that her new historian would have noticed. “Then it’s settled and you can start next week.”

“How much does it pay? Jeeves told me that dating can be expensive.”

“Donna is the one who handles all of that so we’ll ask her when she gets back with your cake.”

“You bought me a cake to bribe me?” Ofer asked. “Can I ping Jyndal? She didn’t have any desserts after the contract workers abandoned her to the Verlocks. We went to a café on Flower and she cried when we shared a brownie. The owner came over to find out what was wrong and gave us a whole box of baked goods when we left. I guess somebody pre-paid for a takeout order and never picked it up.”

Kelly could think of a different explanation but she kept it to herself. “You and Jyndal appear to have a lot in common and you’re welcome to ping her to share your cake. I think Daniel planned the party for the last hour of the working day.”

“Party?”

“Your surprise separation party, but it doesn’t matter now since you’re just moving from Daniel’s office to mine. You can have Aabina’s old desk. Are we agreed?”

“I’m waiting to hear what Donna can pay me,” Ofer said. “If a market economy is the only system under which humans can survive and prosper, I need to explore the virtue of selfishness.”

“Don’t explore it too much or you’ll lose Jyndal,” Kelly warned him.

“I meant I have to be concerned with my own interests and Jyndal is at the top of my hierarchy of needs. The opportunity to work as a historian is very appealing, especially given my lack of official credentials, but I can’t let that override all considerations of my market value. Marilla told me that children raised in isolation by artificial intelligence can work as highly compensated celebrity commentators in their respective cultures.”

“We aren’t Hortens, but I wouldn’t object to your doing side-work as long as it doesn’t take too much of your time. You probably know that Donna’s daughter Chastity is the publisher of the Galactic Free Press, and—”

“I’m already invited to dinner at Brinda’s to meet with her husband, the managing editor of Chastity’s paper, plus I’ve got an interview scheduled with EarthCent Intelligence for an analyst job next week,” Ofer told her. “Does that increase what you’re willing to pay me?”

“Look who I found,” Donna said, entering the conference room with a large cake box and Jeeves in tow. “Oh, the ambassadors already left?”

“They’re talking directly to each other now so it went quickly,” Kelly said. “I want to hire Ofer to be our historian, but he’s changed his reading habits, and it looks like we’re in a bidding war. Do you know how much I can pay him?”

“Let me put this in the kitchen and I’ll be right back.”

“George Orwell,” Jeeves observed, spotting the book on the table. “Looks like a young Marxist I know is undergoing a conversion experience.”

“How could you tell him about my dating life?” Kelly demanded.

“You’ve been married over thirty years and the confidentiality agreement has lapsed.” The young Stryx did a slow spin as if to take in the whole conference room. “Not much of a party.”

“Come back around four,” Donna said, emerging from the kitchen. “I thought you said you had business with the ambassador.”

“Ah, yes.” Jeeves floated over to Kelly and produced a geometric pattern of lights on his casing, as if donning formal wear. “My elders have considered your request for a detailed explanation of how the Human Empire’s progress on benchmarks will be scored and they assigned me to handle it.”

“Wait a second,” Kelly said and pointed at her ear. “Let me ping Daniel and Aabina.”

“It’s not that complicated,” Jeeves said, floating higher to inspect the mount for the rotating globe sculpture suspended above the table that served as a twenty-four-hour clock. “I recall explaining the system to you some years ago.”

“Did I understand it then?”

“After Dring rephrased my wisdom in more general terms. I could play it back for you.”

“What’s up?” Daniel asked, entering from CoSHC headquarters. When he noticed Kelly, Donna, and Ofer were all on the opposite side of the table, he added, “Don’t tell me Ofer filed a grievance for wrongful termination. I thought we were parting on good terms.”

“You won’t be parting at all if Ofer accepts a position as our new historian,” Kelly said and turned to Donna. “Can you add him to the system and see what job title EarthCent assigns? I know they don’t have a historian slot because I checked with Libby.”

“Back in a minute,” Donna said and slipped through the door to the EarthCent embassy lobby while it was open to let Aabina into the conference room.

“Stryx Jeeves,” Aabina greeted the floating robot. “Are you here about our request to clarify the Human Empire’s milestone scoring?”

“Glad to see somebody is on the ball,” Jeeves said, dropping down to eye level. “I’ve been assigned to handle it.”

“That’s the second time you used that phrasing,” Kelly said. “Are you bragging or complaining?”

“Assigned to explain the system or in charge of making the assessments?” Daniel asked.

“Both,” Jeeves said. “It seems that my expertise in humanity has come back to haunt me once again.”

“You’ll be making the decision about whether or not Samuel reaches the milestones to allow the Human Empire and EarthCent to merge?” Kelly asked in disbelief. “But you’re—”

“A fine example of an upwardly mobile young Stryx?” Jeeves cut her off. “Think before you answer.”

“I was going to say a kid.”

“And the Human Empire is an infant, which makes me an honorary InstaSitter. As to your question about how I will score Samuel’s progress, the answer is partial credit. Perhaps this will refresh your memory.”

Jeeves waved his pincer and a large hologram came to life taking up half of the conference room. Kelly found herself staring at a much younger version of herself sitting in a wooden farm cart along with Joe, Dring, and an alien whose face she could never forget.

“That’s Yeafah, the High Priest of Kasil,” Kelly exclaimed. “This must be from our trip to their old homeworld.”

Ofer grabbed Kelly’s open paperback diary and pencil and began to scribble notes as the holographic version of a then forty-year-old EarthCent ambassador said, “Let me get this straight. You choose the sole leader of your entire civilization based on partial credit?”

A hologram of Jeeves floated into the scene and asked, “What do you have against partial credit? The whole EarthCent recruitment process is built on partial credit.”

“Ah, Stryx Jeeves,” Yeafah said. “I was just telling Kelly how much I admire the Stryx system for matching people with jobs. My greatest disappointment during my time in office has been with our administrative failings. For all the effort we put into selecting and promoting priests, I sometimes believe the outcome would be better if I randomly picked farmers off the street on market day.”

“The performance of biologicals can be tough to predict,” the young Stryx agreed. “While it’s hardly my line of work, I can tell you that the basic Stryx system for finding talent among our fosterlings is to give them ample opportunity to fail upwards.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” holo-Kelly demanded.

“Think of it as a different form of partial credit, one that awards employees for outcomes rather than for taking a defensible analytical approach. Sufficiently intrusive testing can determine the capacity of a biological to take certain actions or solve certain problems, but capacity doesn’t translate directly into results.”

“I believe Jeeves is saying that they value the right answer over the right reasoning,” Dring translated, and then the holographic playback sped up for a second before returning to normal speed. “—due to your history of working for wages, and your desire to prove your value to employers through achieving quantifiable tasks, even if they fail to bring about an overall solution.”

“But that’s what I’ve been saying about the class system all along and everybody just laughs at me,” Ofer interrupted.

“I’ll just take the opportunity to fast forward a bit more,” Jeeves said, and the hologram resumed with the High Priest of Kasil speaking.

“I believe Jeeves is saying that clear-cut problems with simple solutions aren’t the real challenge,” Yeafah said. “That’s certainly what I’ve learned through my own management experience. It’s easy to find priests who will go where I send them and do exactly what I tell them, but what I really want is priests who will go where they’re needed and do what’s required without being told.”

“They did hire and promote you, Kel,” holo-Joe reminded his wife. “How many special ambassadors do the Stryx even employ?”

“Just her,” Jeeves answered.

“Are you saying that my main qualification is a talent for failing upwards?” Kelly’s younger version asked. “Why not say you hired me because I’m lucky.”

“Technically, I didn’t hire you at all. Gryph chose you for special ambassador because of your track record and availability. If you choose to believe your accomplishments are a matter of luck, I just hope it doesn’t run out.”

The EarthCent ambassador seemed to consider this for a moment, then she threw up over the side of the wagon and the hologram froze as a series of text messages scrolled past, crediting Jeeves for every aspect of the production.

“That’s not fair,” Kelly objected. “I was pregnant with Samuel at the time and those roads were terrible.”

“Did you get everything you need, Ofer, or should I play it for you again?” Jeeves asked.

“Got it,” the young man said. “Do you have holographic recordings of everything in history?”

“He was there,” Kelly said, snatching back her paperback and looking at Ofer’s notes. “What language is this?”

“Shorthand. I read somewhere about technology not being allowed in Earth’s courtrooms. There was a shorthand course on my teacher bot and it was a nice change of pace from my other studies.”

“You planned on becoming a court reporter?” Daniel asked.

“I thought that if I ever got back to Earth, it would be a good way to earn a living while learning more about the oppression of the working classes,” Ofer mumbled.

“Shorthand is a valuable skill for historians,” Aabina said. “You’ll often find yourself doing interviews or sitting in meetings where anti-surveillance technology prevents you from making electronic recordings. Two of my mother’s historians took shorthand whenever they interviewed me.”

“Does this mean you’ve decided to accept the job?” Kelly asked.

“I never imagined that being a historian meant that I could be in the room when the history was happening,” Ofer said. “If I understand what Stryx Jeeves is telling us, I just learned how the Human Empire will be judged on its progress before—” He broke off and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Is this a setup? Did you all plan this to get me to accept the job without exploring my market value? I still don’t know if you’re going to pay me enough to take Jyndal on dates.”

“I think I can answer that, Ofer,” Donna said as she returned with a thin roll of plastic film. “When I tried adding you to the payroll system to see what options it would give me, it turned out that you were already listed as an EarthCent employee under ‘Pending acceptance.’ If you take the job, you’ll be an acting assistant consul.”

“Acting assistant consul?” Kelly cried. “I worked for EarthCent a dozen years before I made it that far.”

“It’s the minimum diplomatic rank he needs to attend tunnel network meetings on his own,” Donna explained. “I printed out the compensation and the terms of employment for you.”

The young man skimmed the roll and shook his head. “It would be irresponsible for me to make up my mind without hearing what the Galactic Free Press and EarthCent Intelligence have to offer.”

“As a former troubleshooter for a matchmaking service, I can tell you that women love a man with a diplomatic title,” Jeeves told him.

Ofer stood up a little straighter. “Then again, it sounds like a unique opportunity to do my best for humanity. I’ll take the job.”

From the Author

The next book will be a new spin-off that begins on the planet Bits where hackers and gamers from Earth moved to preserve twenty-first century computer culture. For notifications of new releases, sign up for the mailing list at www.ifitbreaks.com. You can find me on Facebook at facebook.com/E.M.Foner, and my e-mail is e_foner@yahoo.com.

Some readers have told me they missed a book and are unsure of how the new series fit into the main Union Station thread. After Last Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador 16), comes Independent Living (EarthCent Universe 1), followed by Soup Night on Union Station and Assisted Living. Then comes Freelance on the Galactic Tunnel Network (EarthCent Auxiliaries 1), followed by Con Living, Empire Night on Union Station, Space Living, Traders on the Galactic Tunnel Network and Orphans on the Galactic Tunnel Network. The nineteenth EarthCent Ambassador book is Swap Night on Union Station, followed by Slow Living, and the most recent release is Artists on the Galactic Tunnel Network. The new starting point for all of the series is Destiny: Union Station.