Diplomacy
(continued)
"I think they are probably mature," said Sonja.
"Like we're
children compared to them."
"Well, that's what they like to think anyway. What makes them so smart, other then being thousands of years ahead of us technologically?"
"They're our ancestors," she said. "They claim that they created us."
"Yeah, I heard they were the ancient gods, all that."
"You're not into Westweiller's beliefs, are you?"
"He's not such a terrible guy," said Zed. "He
just has that blind
spot about you prossies. But no, I'm not into his religion."
Sonja sipped her drink, her eyes still on the handsome aliens. "Do
you believe they're our ancestors?" she said.
Zed, who like everyone else on Earth had considered the evidence for the past ten years, replied, "I think there's a possibility. The DNA bears out some. Why else would we share their DNA? But I don't know that I accept that they bred us by adding their DNA to the ape ancestor."
"Well," said Sonja, "I may just be a dumb
whore, but what if a zillion years ago, some people planted all over the
galaxy the seeds for life? What if we're related all over the place because
we started out from the same seed?"
"You're no dumb whore, Sonja," said Zed. He eyed her appreciatively.
"Maybe you're wasting yourself in that job."
"Not at all," she smiled back. "If all goes according to
plan, I'll be ten times richer than you at the end of two years when I'm
getting out of here. I'll be basking on some beach while you're still
stuck here slaving away!"
Before Zed could make a comeback, the security chief entered the bar and made his salutations to the Admiral and his Vashni guests. At exactly that moment, Luna swished by, trailing a gossamer scarf in the air as she rained kisses on some friend she had spotted in the crowd. That was all that was needed to set Westweiller off.
Sonja stiffened as he raised a hand in the air and snapped
his fingers, summoning several of his officers. A moment of whispering
was followed with the fanning out of his crew, one of which grabbed Luna
by the arm to escort her out the door. The little hooker placidly submitted.
Before Sonja could object, a steel hand grasped her own upper arm and
proceeded to steer her towards another door.
"What are you doing?" demanded Zed in astonishment.
Sonja was not surprised.
Zed put a warning hand on the cop's arm. "I said, what do you think you're doing? What has this woman done?"
The security guard -- pink faced, young and freshly arrived
on the station, did not look too sure of himself. "Under orders,
Sir," he said with the dry, toneless enunciation of cops everywhere.
"Chief does not want prostitutes socializing with the crew on their
off hours."
While Sonja stood there with a smirk on her face, Zed was irate. "What the hell are you talking about?" he practically yelled. "Everywhere on Earth, prossies mingle with the crowd. How else would they drum up business? What's the matter with you?"
"Not me, Sir. I'm only following orders. Besides, this
isn't Earth. Here the Chief is the boss."
"He is not," snapped Zed. "The Admiral is in charge!"
The cop did not reply. "Excuse me then, Sir,"
he said as he finished the job of leading Sonja out of the bar.
Once in the hall, he let her go. "Sorry about this," he muttered.
"You'd be advised to return to your quarters. Chief would prefer
that you only socialize with your fellow workers."
"I wonder," said Sonja in her own dry tone, "does
the Chief sleep well at night? I mean, knowing that he is God's representative
in Space?"
The young cop's face did not change expression. "Good
night then," he said before he turned on his heels and returned to
the saloon.
Sonja set her jaw firmly and headed to her cabin. Nothing had happened
that she had not expected. It was Luna who would be in a state. She steeled
herself to deal with it.
Sonja always had to be the strong one. Luna and four of the other prossies
depended on her to be their rock, but occasionally, just once in awhile,
Sonja longed to let up on the sturdy act. Sometimes she sealed her door
and cried her eyes out. During those episodes, she felt that life was
unbearably long and most of it unspeakably sad -- one interminable disappointment
after the other. Perhaps some people had it good, somewhere, some rare
people, but for the most part, she didn't know any. Even the Admiral.
She bet he had his dark middle-of-the-nights when he wondered what it
was all for. Her own life so far had not been very appealing. But what
was the point of going over it in her mind? The past was unchangeable
and what could you do about it?
Luna burst into Sonja's quarters, her eyes dark holes in her pale, swollen face.
"It's not worth crying about," said Sonja. She
sounded dry. though she had a soft spot in her heart for Luna. "They're
just a bunch of assholes."
"They're going to send us back!" cried Luna. "The Chief
told me
so! He said, 'We aren't going to have this moral decay on the station.
I have my connections, and Senator Willcox is backing me. He has the majority
and will influence the next vote. Trust me, you'll be on your way back
home within a couple of months.' That's what he said, Sonja!"
"Never trust a person who says 'Trust me'," said
Sonja, but her
heart was sinking.
Luna was waxing hysterical. "I can't go back; I can't! You know I
can't!"
"Maybe he's forgotten about it by now, Luna. Maybe
he's got better things to worry about."
"No, no, he'd never forget. He's got a memory like
a macrocomputer. He's snuffed people after twenty years, Sonja! That man
holds onto his grudges. Oh, what will I do if they throw us out of here?"
"What about Ling Po? Just because the American government decides we can't be here, the Chinese can do what they like."
"So?" said Luna, her voice in its highest range.
"She'll stay and
the rest of us'll go! I'll be dead in a week."
"Oh, honey," said Sonja, beginning to feel her own panic. "Why'd you ever get messed up with that bastard?"
Luna shook her blonde head. "I don't know. He was glam.
He came on strong and took me places. I didn't know he was organized crime."
"Oh, honey," Sonja repeated, not knowing what
else to say. What was her own disappointment at having to give up her
financial plans next to Luna's serious trouble?
Luna poured herself a shot of whiskey from Sonja's small liquor supply.
"I won't go back," she said. "I'll off myself first. Better
to do it painlessly than face whatever Romero would do to me."
Already Sonja's mind was racing ahead to what she could
possibly do. Action would distract her from worrying about Luna or despairing
over having to return to Earth, to the only way she knew to make a living,
in some friendless city somewhere.
Absently, she patted Luna's arm and stood up. "I gotta go do something,"
she said.
Luna began to sob again.
"Save it," said Sonja. "You might not need
it." But she really had no confidence at all about that.
After waiting two hours in Admiral Benson's outer office,
Sonja was directed to the inner sanctum with a warning from his secretary
to take no more than five minutes.
She stood before the Admiral's desk and was surprised to find the room
not at all cushy.
As if reading her thoughts, Benson said, "We're still roughing it
like the rest of you, Ms. Breeze."
Her shock that he knew her name must have registered on her face.
"Of course, I know who you are," said Benson, rising and extending a hand to her. "Though you may not know it, I value your contribution to the morale on this station."
"Thank you," she stammered.
He motioned for her to sit. He had those new chairs that
mold to the body, and it was such a pleasure to drop into one that, for
a moment, she forgot why she was there. "Um, Admiral, I just heard
from my friend that Westweiller has arranged for his Senator friend to
swing the vote --"
The Admiral interrupted. "Yes, know all about it. And sorry too. That little worm has been undermining everything I stand for in here. I'm afraid that I have little equal power in the Senate. If they pass that bill, you'll be called home. Unless you change your citizenship within a month, there's not much I can do."
"It takes a couple of years to change citizenship,"
said Sonja.
"Yes," muttered the Admiral, his eyes glazed over; clearly he
was deep into thinking about something else. He snapped back. "You
and your fellow workers relieve the considerable tensions of the plumbers.
It's not easy for anyone living out here in space, especially in this
unfinished contraption with its myriad dangers to life and limb. Not to
mention the stress of being far from their families and everything familiar.
Without the prossies, I hate to imagine where those unrelieved tensions
might take the men. Fights, backbiting, sabotage, who knows? I've worked
in environments like that. I consider you indispensable to the running
of this station. But I, a politically liberal military man, am a rarity.
The way things are moving back home, the right wing is taking everything
by the reigns. To save your position here, Ms. Breeze, would take a miracle."
Sonja lowered her head.
"But I have witnessed some miracles in my life," added the Admiral.
Sonja was not impressed. "Well, thank you, Admiral Benson."
He stood up and again extended his hand. "I'm as upset
as you
are," he said.
It was little consolation.
