Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode Five: Adam #7

Zeta arrived at work early the next day. She'd spent yesterday evening on an emotional roller coaster, glad to have her evening to herself, sad because Maka wasn't there to intrude, and a little bit sad because Jack had proven himself a friend, but no more. She shook her head to clear it. Was love worth this? Probably not.

Yesterday had offered very little relief from her thoughts, and today wasn't any more promising. Her office was buried in the mundane details of diplomacy these days. The healers had once again rejected the fast-food company's argument and maintained their ban on processed items with preservatives in them. Today the healers would meet with some pharmaceutical companies. That would be at least as thorny. Command and security were adamant about maintaining the ban on addictive drugs and narcotics, but were divided about other medications. Should the station residents have the right to keep their medications when the healers had safer alternatives?

While they met, the civilian council would hold a public hearing on the NRA's petition to allow guns on the stations. Explosive projectile devices! How anyone thought this was a good idea was beyond Zeta. And surely the council would think the same. And just as surely, it would lead to complaints from people on the surface.

Later this afternoon the Civilian Council, the Shoshone Collective, and Command would be meeting about the collective's share of taxes and upkeep on the station. It should have been, was, a routine matter. The council and Command wanted a communal pot, but the collective was increasingly insistent that they were no longer part of the United States and shouldn't be paying taxes to them. They were willing to pay their share, they claimed, to the civilian council. And the civilian council could then share those resources with Command. They just wouldn't pay Command, which was staffed by the US Armed Forces, directly. It made Zeta's head hurt just trying to sort it out.

She sat her desk, a tea in hand. Already she had more than a dozen courtesy messages waiting. Most were just reminders about one of the three upcoming meetings or an attempt to talk to her beforehand. Having no desire to actually talk to any of those people, she sent simple courtesy replies.

One message was from a healer. A young human child with Karlocki's syndrome had presented in the night. A new arrival from Angorak One, originally from one of the terraforming ships.

Her heart ached. She didn't need to read more. Karlocki's syndrome occurred when the kidneys needed to process tetrahillucel, a C'thon biochemical factor. The child was a Squid.

There were enough people like her in this new galaxy, in this solar system, that it was inevitable she'd run across them. But she had hoped it wouldn't be in a professional capacity. She swallowed. This is part of my job.

The healer's name was Dakshana. Zeta messaged her, courtesy. She answered promptly. "Dakshana here. How may I assist?"

"Zeta, from Diplomacy. We had a message."

Dakshana was an older woman with a strong, masculine face. She kept it a mask, making it hard for Zeta to read. "I had thought maybe one of the others . . ."

"I am the ranking diplomat," Zeta snapped.

"Of course, no disrespect. You understand the implications?"

"I do."

"The kidney damage was minor," Dakshana began.

They treated it quickly, the child and parent went on, out of their jurisdiction, Zeta prayed. A quick report and pass it on.

"The child has a gland it doesn't need. Producing chemicals that will only harm its body more as it grows. It really needs long-term treatment."

Crap.

"And what do you want of me?" Zeta asked.

Dakshana shrugged. "I bear the child no ill will. If the child stays, I will ask another to treat, only because I know little of C'thon biology. But a report must be made, if only so my department doesn't get into trouble later. So I made a report. What you do with it is your decision."

Zeta thanked her and shut off communication. Her tea had gone cold, and her staff had mostly arrived for the day. She wondered briefly if she dared pass this issue off to another, but decided, for better or worse, she had to deal with it personally.

She went into the lobby of their office and assembled her junior staff. "Anala, you will go to the Civilian Council meeting this morning."

"Explosive projectiles devices," Anala muttered.

"I know, pretend it doesn't sound that crazy and hope the council finds a good excuse to say no. They are still mostly Consortium, until the next election cycle, so likely they will. Bela, you take the healer's meeting. Be polite and listen. The more the sides that agree, the better. We'd rather not dictate these issues. Mani, you will meet with the Shoshone Collective."

"And you?"

"Another matter has come up," she said. "We will conference at lunch."