Party Night on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 10) (20 page)

“Next time, I suggest housing your guests on an outer deck to save damage,” Jeeves said, floating through the hole. “On the bright side, the emergency atmosphere retention field that covered my hull breach seems to be holding, but you might want to have your crew throw up a patch after I leave.”

“Stryx!” Aarania hissed. “So this is how you practice noninterference.”

“Please move out of the way,” Jeeves said politely. “I have no intention of interfering with your affairs, but I find myself trapped by the rapid response clause included in the warranty for my young friend’s robot. I’ve gotten much more conservative about extending warranties since then, but it was my first.”

“What are you talking about, Jeeves?” Kelly squawked. “You’re just going to leave us here?”

“I don’t think the Thark who I hitched a ride with in return for providing your precise location will go along with that. Now everybody please cover your eyes while I carry out this repair. It involves high heat.”

A white glow began forming around the Stryx’s pincer, and the biologicals all reflexively squinted their eyes shut. There was a click, a scraping sound, and a hollow clank, after which Jeeves announced, “All done.”

Even Samuel looked away from his captive to stare at the restored robot. It gleamed like the day he had brought it home from Libbyland, and its eyes were glowing a healthy green.

“You didn’t repair anything,” Aarania’s cousin protested, feeling his courage coming back as the sword moved away from his throat. “You just swapped it for a new one that you had in your casing.”

“All within the terms of the warranty, I assure you,” Jeeves replied. He projected a hologram of dense text that must have run into tens of thousands of words, if not more. “You can read it if you want.”

The regular lights came back on, and Aarania stood stiffly for a moment as she digested a flood of communications from her officers. “If you would all be so kind as to accompany me to the bridge,” she said in a defeated voice, and then stalked out of the cabin.

“I’m fine,” Joe insisted, shaking off Kelly’s arm and limping after the Vergallians, who had given up any pretense of holding the humans captive in the presence of the Stryx. Samuel retrieved the wooden sheath of his cane and carefully reinserted the blade before following.

“It’s at least twice the size of our largest attack carrier,” an officer was saying as the group entered the bridge. It wasn’t possible to judge the dimensions of the enormous vessel displayed on the view screen without another ship for comparison, but it conveyed such an impression of power that everybody was willing to take the officer’s calculations at face value.

“What are their demands?” Aarania inquired.

“Her commander told us to bring the Humans to where he could see them, and then he closed the channel.”

“It’s a Thark battleship. I recognize the class from historical records, but I thought they’d all been scrapped millions of years ago. What’s the name on her prow?”

“Loss Prevention.”

“Join me within the white line,” Aarania instructed the humans, who shuffled forward on their magnetic cleats. The image on the main display instantly changed to the face of an angry Thark, blown up to ten times its natural size.

“Deliver the ambassador and her party immediately and I will leave your ship intact,” the Thark said bluntly. “You’re going to need a navigable warship if you wish to survive this debacle, and I would advise against returning to Vergallian space any time in the near future. For your sake, I hope you can transfer four-hundred thousand creds to the off-world betting parlor on Union Station to cover our expenses.”

Aarania blanched, but she nodded her assent. The destroyer’s crew members were too well versed in the pecking order of the galaxy to even suggest fighting a Thark battleship, no matter how old it was.

The McAllisters and Hannah gathered their luggage and transferred with Jeeves to the Thark ship, which jumped the moment they entered the airlock. A robot met them after they cycled through and escorted them to the bridge, which was manned by a handful of Tharks in casual dress.

“You appear to be whole,” the Thark captain said, looking Kelly up and down. “Do you feel well?”

“Yes, thank you,” the ambassador replied, surprised by the Thark’s solicitude. “I’m glad to see that my embassy manager once again ignored my explicit instructions and bought us travel insurance.”

“Travel insurance?” The Thark burst into rasping laughter, and his clan brothers followed suit. “Travel insurance covers a maximum of five thousand creds, including claims for lost baggage and emotional trauma. I wouldn’t get out of bed to prevent a travel insurance claim.”

“Then why are you here?” Kelly asked. “Jeeves? Did you put the Tharks up to rescuing us?”

“I wish we were here doing the Stryx a favor,” the Thark captain growled on being reminded of the cause for his mission. “My idiot uncle made the biggest underwriting miscalculation of the century, probably because he was licking soap. Who grants fifty million creds of key person insurance on the ambassador of a new species without even checking on her travel arrangements? The premium didn’t come anywhere near covering the charge for taking the Loss Prevention out of Union Station’s long term parking, though the station’s owner did make us a deal.”

“What’s key person insurance?” Kelly asked.

The Thark regarded her with sympathy. “It means you’re important, but before you ask, I can’t tell you why. I do request that you ping your embassy manager the moment we return to the station and tell her that the Tharks will appreciate anything she can do for us. She’ll know what I mean.”

“Are we going to Union Station now?” Hannah asked.

“Including a taxi to take you into Union Station’s core, you’ll be there within a few minutes of your originally scheduled arrival time,” the Thark replied. “We are taking the jump as slowly as our schedule allows since the distance in real space is appreciable. Please make yourselves comfortable, and don’t touch anything that looks like a weapons control system.”

Woojin met them at the arrivals area on Union Station and thanked Joe heartily for bringing along the heavy canister. “Looks like you might be on the disabled list for a few days,” he added, observing Joe’s limp.

“Getting stunned is like falling off a bike. You never forget how. Feel up to a beer before bed?”

“No thanks, Joe. Busy day for me to—, uh, tomorrow. We’ll see you then.”

Dorothy, Paul, and Aisha were all waiting up in the ice harvester, but they professed exhaustion when Kelly attempted to tell them the story of the kidnapping and rescue. Samuel said goodnight, and disappeared into his room with his little robot and his sword-cane, before his mother could think of confiscating it. After a few minutes of contagious yawning, Beowulf watched in approval as Joe, Kelly, and their new houseguest headed off to bed at ten in the morning. Then he stretched out for a mid-morning nap of his own.

Twenty

Dorothy led the family through the Empire Convention Center, piling on more and more imaginary details about Dring’s supposed birthday party to keep her mother from guessing what was going on.

“He’s way older than a hundred million, and we couldn’t find enough candles for the cake on Union Station, so we just spelled it out with chocolate.”

“I thought you said the frosting was chocolate,” Kelly objected. She was a little fuzzy after sleeping for ten hours, but she hadn’t protested as Dorothy helped her into the most elaborate dress she had ever worn. “How would anybody be able to read it?”

“David used white chocolate for the numbers,” her daughter fibbed, steering them towards the entrance to the main ballroom. “Did I mention that he baked the cake himself?”

“Isn’t this the entrance to the main ballroom?” Kelly asked, coming to a halt. “Why is there a curtain?”

“To keep the heat in,” Dorothy improvised, leading them into the antechamber. “Dring is always a bit cold, you know, so the curtain at the top of the stairs keeps all the warm air from getting sucked out the doors. Here, stand with Dad at the front.”

Kelly turned her head to look suspiciously at her daughter as the curtain was drawn open, so she missed seeing the thousands of formally dressed ball-goers from over a hundred species shouting, “Surprise!” Then the McAllisters were covered in a shower of confetti, and Jeeves, wearing a silk sash that proclaimed him the Master of Ceremonies, floated up the broad staircase to welcome them. The Stryx turned to face the crowd, and despite her genuine shock, Kelly noticed that the back of the sash carried an ad for SBJ Fashions.

“EarthCent Ambassador Kelly McAllister and family,” Jeeves announced in a thundering voice. The guests all exploded in cheers again, and Jeeves spoke to the surprised couple directly over their implants, saying, “What are you waiting for? Walk down the stairs so the orchestra can start playing.”

“I’m going to kill Donna,” Kelly yelled in Joe’s ear. The orchestra struck up a waltz, and the guests rapidly withdrew towards the edges of the enormous room. “It’s Ballmageddon!”

“Dring,” Joe addressed the Maker, who stood beaming a toothy dinosaur smile at the foot of the stairs. “I banged up my knee yesterday and I don’t want to spoil the first dance. Can you take her?”

“With pleasure,” Dring responded, formally bowing to Kelly and extending a hand with blunt talons.

The ambassador was still numb from the surprise, but she took the proffered appendage and followed Dorothy’s hissed instruction to curtsey, before letting Dring lead her out onto the empty dance floor.

Bob Steelforth, who had placed himself next to Brynt since the Cayl emperor was the most important guest he knew and could hope to interview, asked the bear-like alien, “What do you imagine they’re saying to each other?”

Brynt concentrated on the waltzing couple for a moment, his furry ears twisting on his head for directional gain, and then informed the reporter, “Dring is repeating, ‘One-Two-Three,’ over and over again. Wait, Kelly just asked why nobody else is dancing. That’s my cue.”

The Cayl straightened up and stalked directly across the room to where Empress Pava was waiting, and then he whirled her out onto the floor. Soon after they were joined by Dictator Vissss and his brood mate, Horde Leader Gantu and his posse, and then the floodgates opened to mere royalty and diplomats who crowded onto the floor.

“She’s not that great,” Jonah told his sister, as they watched Ailia float by with Samuel. “Come on, I’ll dance with you.”

“Did you see her cheekbones?” Vivian asked miserably, ignoring her brother’s hand. “I’ll bet if you checked with a laser protractor they’d be within a hundredth of a degree of the parallel with Samuel’s. They move like they’re one person.”

“She’s two years older than you, and those Vergallian royals have the best dance coaches in the galaxy,” Jonah said. “Besides, it’s not like she can give up her rule and move back to Union Station.”

Vivian sighed sadly, but the music was doing its work, so she accepted her twin’s hand, and the twelve-year-olds glided out onto the dance floor.

“Come on, already,” Dorothy said, tugging on David’s hand. “You promised.”

“As soon as they play something I know,” the young man replied. “This isn’t the one you practiced with me.”

“It’s a waltz,” Dorothy insisted. “You can sit out later if they do dances where you need to know the steps.”

“One beer,” David pleaded. “There has to be a bar around here somewhere.”

“May I have this dance?” a cultured voice inquired from behind Dorothy’s shoulder.

“Metoo!” she cried. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Do you like my suit?” the young Stryx inquired, floating back a step to show off the black pants he had belted around the lower part of his metallic casing, so the cuffs barely touched the floor. The jacket sleeve didn’t quite fit right around his pincer, but Metoo had never been a clothes horse.

“Yes, and I’d love to dance with you,” Dorothy said, placing one arm on his casing and taking his pincer in her other hand. As Metoo waltzed her out onto the dance floor, the girl turned her head and stuck out her tongue at her boyfriend.

“I can’t believe everybody managed to keep the secret,” Blythe admitted to Hert, as the head of Drazen Intelligence expertly threaded them through the traffic on the dance floor.

“I was worried about the humans, but I never doubted the advanced species, if you’ll forgive the expression,” Hert replied. “I almost feel sorry for Aarania and her ‘Fives’ movement. She must have sensed that it was now or never to take such a risk, but I would have given ninety-nine to one odds that her plan would backfire, even without the rescue. Out of all the species in the galaxy, the Vergallians are the last ones who could justify interfering with a ball for any reason.”

After Joe lost sight of Kelly and Dring in the mass of dancers, he began limping his way around the edge of the dance floor to the card room that Jeeves had told him about. He was surprised to encounter Donna and Stanley watching the action from the sidelines.

“What’s your excuse, Stan?” he asked his friend. “I thought dancing at a ball was your wife’s dream.”

“Putting on a ball, not dancing,” Stanley replied. “Look at her, she’s in a daze. I’ll bet she can’t even hear us. Of course, she hasn’t slept more than a couple of hours a night for the last week.”

“Well, I’m going to try to get a seat at a poker table,” Joe said. “I haven’t lifted a card in a month.” Two limping steps away from the Doogals, he found his path blocked by a giant beetle.

“You are Joe McAllister,” the Farling stated. “The station librarian requested my presence at the ball to handle medical emergencies. I can fix that knee for you if you’d like.”

Joe glanced around to see if anybody he knew was listening before replying, “I think I’ll just give it another day to see if it improves on its own.”

“I understand,” the Farling replied. “Good luck with the cards.”

There was a crash from the dance floor as two aliens in metal-reinforced environmental suits collided, and the giant insect scuttled off to see if his services were required.

Near the entry to the card room, Joe encountered a heavily scarred Vergallian woman, standing alone with her back to the bulkhead.

“I guessed you were here when I saw Ailia dancing with Samuel,” Joe said. “It’s amazing how well they move together after not even seeing each other for eight years.”

“They practice every day,” the former Fleet captain and current Royal Protector replied. “I worried that she was spending so much time alone, and as her older half-sister, I thought I had the obligation to find out what was going on. She’s uses a Stryx device disguised as a toy robot that provides real-time holographic communications. The technological prowess of the AI is humbling.”

“So that’s how Jeeves knew where we were and guided our rescue. Did you hear that the Tharks underwrote my wife’s appearance tonight?”

“I have no doubt that immersive studios around the galaxy are rushing to produce bad dramas depicting the whole affair,” Baylit said, smiling with the side of her face that wasn’t a mass of scar tissue. “You are living proof of the expression Vergallian children use to describe the only acceptable excuse for having ignored chores and homework.”

“What’s that?”

“Saved by the ball.”

Joe snorted, invited Baylit to dinner at Mac’s Bones the next evening, then he entered the card room and found an open seat at a poker table.

After several waltzes, the orchestra began playing a modern composition, and Donna hurried across the room to talk with the conductor. A dozen Tharks linked their arms and began doing a line dance, but everybody else took a break and began quaffing the refreshments offered by the Empire Convention Center catering staff.

“Twins,” Chastity said, approaching Lynx and pointing at the cultural attaché’s wrist.

Lynx almost fainted on the spot. “What?” she croaked. She resolved to kill both her husband and that Farling quack if Chastity knew something that she didn’t.

“Twins,” Chastity repeated, holding up her own wrist and displaying the black countdown watch. “I’m at thirty-seven weeks, two hours and eleven minutes.”

“You got help from the Farling doctor too?” Lynx asked.

“One of our new reporters thought that he could land an interview with a visiting alien dignitary by sticking his foot in the door, but the door didn’t agree. I took him for treatment, and the med bay has scanners that check everybody who enters. The beetle told me that I’m pregnant, gave me the countdown watch, and said I should quit eating pizza with garlic when it comes time to nurse. How about you?”

“Forty weeks, three hours, eleven minutes and eight, seven, six seconds,” Lynx replied, checking her watch.

“What are you two talking about?’ Kelly asked, approaching the pair while fanning her face with one hand.

“We’re both expecting, and the Farling doctor who recently set up shop on Union Station passes out these delivery countdown watches as gifts,” Chastity explained.

“It must be the doctor’s idea of humor,” Kelly said with a laugh. “Nobody could predict a time of birth that accurately.”

“He only guaranties it within a twenty-four hour window, but he said if I keep to a strict diet and work schedule, that would increase the accuracy,” Lynx explained. “Our payment is held in escrow until my black-haired, brown-eyed son arrives. The Farling said he couldn’t put a precise number on height since a lot depends on nutrition. He offered me twins for a thirty percent surcharge, but I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Well, he seems like a very caring doctor.”

“Not in our sense of the word, though I guess he was pretty nice for a giant bug who looks down on humans.”

“And you trusted him for this?”

“Libby vouched for his work. It’s just that Farlings don’t care for humanoids in general. They refer to humans as Vergallian Lite.”

“Like a diet product?” Kelly had never spoken with a Farling herself, and was beginning to have trouble following the flow of the conversation.

“He didn’t have a lot of experience with humans, but he said we’re basically Vergallians with some of the good parts taken out. Then he said that he’s cross-bred dogs from different worlds that have more genetic space between them than humans and Vergallians.”

“He’s really good with allergies,” Chastity added. “It used to be that Marcus couldn’t eat peanuts without going into shock, but one visit to the Farling and he’s cured.”

“What was the treatment?” Kelly asked.

“He said we weren’t smart enough to understand his explanation so he wasn’t going to waste his time trying. Marcus drank something the Farling gave him and that was it.”

“Here you are, Ambassador,” Dring said, handing Kelly the glass of champagne he had gallantly offered to procure when they left the dance floor. “I hope you ladies are enjoying yourselves.”

“Very much, though ironically, Marcus is so tired from giving last minute dance lessons that he’s dead on his feet.” Chastity said. “He’s supposed to be getting us drinks, but my guess is he’s sitting down somewhere.”

“Champagne for all,” Walter proclaimed, approaching the group with a tray of pre-poured glasses that he had lifted from one of the many strategically placed tables around the periphery of the room. He was accompanied by Brinda, Shaina, and Daniel, all of whom welcomed the break from dancing.

“It’s a wonderful evening, Dring,” Shaina addressed the Maker. “What made you think of a ball?”

“Donna told me that it’s been Kelly’s secret ambition to have one ever since she arrived on Union Station,” Dring explained. “Do our humble efforts meet your expectations, Kelly?”

“The ball exceeds my wildest dreams in every way,” the ambassador replied. “I’m looking forward to paying Donna back at the first opportunity.”

-------------------------------

The orchestra quit when their contracted three hours was up, but Thomas bribed a half a dozen musicians who professed knowledge of tango music to continue playing after Jeeves announced that dinner was served in the main exhibition hall. Joe limped out of the card room to escort Kelly in to dinner, and neither of them was surprised to see that Samuel and Ailia ignored the change of program and continued dancing around the room to the music in their own heads.