Jason King: Agent to the Stars 1: The Enclaves of Sylox (3 page)

“Your insults do translate, almost to the point where I declare
Priority
and release my guards upon you. There is only so much I can take from you,
Mr.
King.”

I smiled and looked at his guards. To their credit they now looked nervous, obviously having done their research, even if Jonk hadn’t. I wasn’t really concerned. Jonk wouldn’t start a fight right here in the middle of the transit platform. Instead, our verbal battle continued.

“I only get
intense
when I see a long-term member of the Union consorting with upstarts such you Humans.”

“Your problem is not with me, Jonk, but with the developers,” I said. “I’m just a real estate broker now. I sell the homes; I don’t build them anymore. And I’ve even managed to sell a few of your underground mud pits. But I have to say, the Minister
is
correct; they
are
dank and depressing, and I question the sanity of
any
being that would prefer living underground to being on the surface. The surface is where all the action is.”

I knew Jonk lived underground.

“You try to downplay your status here on Sylox, Jason King, yet everyone knows you are one of the most well-connected and influential Humans on the planet. Your activities and opinions can impact not only other Humans, but also many on the Council. And with your help and encouragement, your savage race has spread out across the pristine surface of Sylox with your massive hives, taking up valuable surface land. My abodes do not disturb the peace and natural beauty of the surface. We live underground so that we may better preserve what is above us.”

“That may be true, but I still prefer wide open spaces, and I can’t help it if even some on the Council prefer
our
buildings to your burrows. Besides, there’s plenty of room to build here on Sylox and still preserve the natural landscape. And if that’s not enough, the damn Union consists of over forty-five hundred worlds, so I don’t think
space
is a problem.”

“Not now, yet your kind have only been members of the Union for a short time. Give it another hundred years and then see if there is still room enough on Sylox – or anywhere else – if your race has its way. The signs are obvious; the Humans are a disaster to the continued harmony of the Union, and have been since your questionable admission.”

“You have to remember, Jonk, the Union came to
us
, not the other way around.”

“That was a mistake!” Even from five feet away, Jonk’s breath could still peel paint. “Your race has no redeeming value and offers nothing to the Union.”

“What about our charming personalities?”

Jonk bristled. I was glad the translators had begun to incorporate more Human slang and nuance into the language synthesizers. It sure helped to make snide remarks that much more effective – and entertaining.

“Retain your flippant comments for now, Jason King, but soon your kind will learn its place on the ladder of galactic races. And that place is on the lowest rung, to remain there until you have paid your dues with time and contribution to the common good.”

“Yeah, but I feel just brightening
your
day must be a plus in my column.” I took a perfunctorily look at my watch. “Unfortunately, Jonk, I have to go now, to meet another family of primitive Human savages and help them take even more credits out of your pockets and those of your partners. But we really must do this again, soon.”

Jonk snorted, cast one last vicious glare at Bill, and then stormed off into the crowd, followed closely by his towering bodyguards.

After he was gone, I met Bill’s yellow eyes; we held the gaze for a moment … before we both burst out laughing. I have to tell you, if there’s anything I like more than taunting Jonk Limbor, it’s an alien with a sense of humor.

So despite being such a lousy softball player, Transit Minister Billork Kly Gon-Mok was okay in my book – at least for an alien.

Chapter 3

A few minutes later, Bill and I watched as the passengers from the Day-8 shuttle began to flood the landing platform. I glanced at the datapad in my left hand and pulled up the image of Jennifer Wilson. In the sea of creatures leaving the spacecraft, two Human females, along with three children, shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

“Do you see your new clients?” Bill asked.

“Not yet, but they’ll be along. So tell me about this Simorean Crisis. I’ve been here for a number of years and I’ve never heard of it.”

“It happened two hundred sixteen years ago, and was a constitutional crisis that nearly destroyed the Union.”

“No shit? What happened?”

“As you know, the Amelians formed the Galactic Union over a thousand years ago, and throughout most of that time, they dominated the command and control of the organization from the capital on Amelia. However, a few hundred years ago, the other Members began to exert more influence, and eventually gained control of the Council. That is when the capital was moved from Amelia to Sylox, as a means of establishing a more neutral location for all Members.

“Shortly after that, a proposal was brought before the governing chambers which the Amelians insisted should be approved. The Simoreans created an opposing voting bloc within the Assembly and the Council that resisted approval, and having only recently acquired their new power, the majority of representatives were not about to abdicate it back to the Amelians so easily. A standoff resulted, one which threatened to destroy the entire Union.”

“The Union’s still here, so I assume someone had to blink – to give in.”

“Yes, and it was the Amelians. Through their mature wisdom, they realized that the opposition was firm in their resolve and would destroy the Union before they acquiesced. And so to save the Union the Amelians blinked – as you say – and since that time they have been more subtle in their manipulations of the Council and of others.”

“What was this proposal that caused all the problems?”

“That has never been fully disclosed. In the end, it mattered not, for it was the dynamic between the two opposing forces – that of the old and the new within the Union – that was important. If it had not been that particular issue it would have been another. The important lesson from the Crisis is that the Union survived, and became more diverse in its distribution of power than before the event.”

“So how are the Humans involved in something that happened centuries ago, while we were still riding horses and reading by gas lamps?”

“Do not give any credence to what Limbor says, Jason. He was just attempting to create a rift between us.” Bill smiled and placed a huge hand on my shoulder. “Which is something that could never happen, my Captain.”

I smiled up at the huge, green alien.
Oh, great, when will his infatuation with me ever end?
The word
bestiality
came to mind, which only served to make me feel even more uncomfortable.

Desperately seeking something that would get Bill’s hand off my shoulder, I scanned the last of the passengers departing the shuttle. I squinted until I finally noticed a splash of blonde hair standing out from the field of brown fur, burgundy spikes and matted hair that made up the tops of most of the aliens on the platform.

“There they are, the Wilson family – and cousin,” I announced, with probably a little too much enthusiasm.

“
Cousin?
”

“It’s a relative, this one’s on the female’s side of the family. And to more fully answer your previous question, I don’t think they’re going to be our neighbors. Jennifer and her husband – her mate – are with the Embassy, and they prefer to live out in the city, as a way for their children to experience the
local flavor
of alien life, as they put it.”

I saw Bill smile wickedly and I knew what he was thinking: Wait until the children witness a Lymoriam
Luia
, with a fleshy Gorikean covered in local barbeque sauce, his eyes bulging out at the feasters, displaying a look of absolute terror as they literally eat him alive.

The kids will get a real kick out of that bit of
local flavor
.

I nodded, agreeing with Bill’s unspoken thought. “You’re right of course … never say never.”

**********

Over the years I’d lost count of the number times new arrivals to the capital city of the Galactic Union had expressed the same misguided wish; to live amongst the aliens so they could experience different cultures. Usually it took no more than two showings before they’d come running back to me pleading to be shown properties in the vast Human Enclaves being constructed by a number of builders from Earth, such as Pulte and D.R. Horton.

This transformation – from fearless galactic adventurer to that of humbled Human looking for anything familiar – was predictable and operated like clockwork. The only variable in the equation was the children.

Did I mention that I hate children, and I mean Hate with a capital ‘H?’ Not that I have anything against them as a group, it’s just that on far too many occasions they’d cost me a decent commission with their antics.

As a confirmed and childless bachelor – childless as far as I know – I couldn’t understand why parents would let their often ungrateful brood influence family decisions so much? Many of my clients came through the Embassy and were therefore part of the Diplomatic Corps. This meant that in the past these children had been shuffled from one assignment to the next. After a while you’d think they’d get used to it.

Of course, I realize there’s a big difference between an assignment in Brazil or Bangladesh, to one on the planet Sylox. But did the kids always have to freak out so often?

I’d lost many a deal to the wild temper tantrums of the children, who were often so scared and inconsolable when exposed to this strange alien planet that many of my potential buyers simply packed up their bags and went home. When that happened, my bank account suffered.

And now I had a starship to buy!

My preferred clients were single people and DINKS – couples with Dual-Income, No Kids. Unfortunately, this breed of client was few and far between here on Sylox. Instead, most of my customers were married couples trailing a herd of unruly rugrats after them.

Nearly all my new business came through a long-standing affiliation I had with the Embassy, and although the sprawling Consular Compound did have some housing units available, I was fortunate that most of these were taken up by visiting high-ranking officials or those with the shortest-duration assignments. This meant that the thousands of new arrivals to Sylox had to find accommodations outside the Compound, and that was where
Galactic Realty and Relocation Service
came into play.

I had come to Sylox seven years before as a site agent for Pulte. This was right at the beginning of the big influx of Humans to Sylox City, the Union Capital, and there was a lot of groundwork to be laid before major construction of the expat communities could begin. The Earth-based developers were anxious to gain a foothold on the planet, so they had been more than generous with their – how can I say it –
gratuities
. I had been instrumental in many of the negotiations with the Council in those days, helping to spread the wealth around and grease whatever palms, paws or tentacles that require greasing.

As a result, I established of a lot of long-lasting relationships with the powers-that-be in the Galactic Union, relationships which were paying dividends even to this day.

However, after a couple of years I realized I’d gone about as far as I could with Pulte, so I broke away and started my own firm, the first independent Human real estate firm on the planet. The major builders at the time were more interested in turning and burning their customers rather than building relationships. And with the constant turnover of diplomats, contractors and other Humans coming to the Capital for business, there was never a shortage of fresh blood for the developers.

I – on the other hand – realized early on that new arrivals to the alien world required more than just a familiar bed on which to lay their heads. They often arrived in a complete state of shock, overwhelmed by the sheer
alienness
of it all. They needed more than just a friendly real estate agent showing them properties; they needed the whole acclimation service my firm offered.

So we specialized in new arrivals – buyers primarily – although we did have a fair number of resales and rentals these days, with our property management division one of the fastest-growing of late. And the Embassy was the source of clearly ninety-percent of all my business.

Did I also mention that I
love
Embassy customers, almost with the same – yet opposite – intensity that I hate children? The reason was simple: they were easy sells.

All workers assigned to the Embassy were entitled to a hefty housing and cost-of-living subsidy while on Sylox called BAH, an acronym for
Basic Allowance for Housing
. This was the same subsidy I received during my military days back on Earth, yet for duty on Sylox, it was BAH-on-steroids. The allowance was so high in fact, that even the lowest GS worker could afford to purchase the average-priced expat home, which at the time was in the three-million dollar range.

And with the government actively encouraging homeownership – it made for a happier and more stable personnel roster – I was more than willing to do my part to help out.

Through my contacts at the Embassy, I managed to negotiate an extra half-percent commission for me and my agents, as a bonus for taking these bewildered and often lost souls by the hand and helping them to find not only appropriate housing, but also to feel more comfortable with their alien surroundings. We accomplished this through a series of pre-arrival seminars, personal tours of common facilities – such as schools and shopping centers – and by providing extracurricular activities within the subdivisions, including sports teams, movie nights and other distinctly Human events.

If we did our job well then the Embassy had more-contented personnel who would hang around longer. After all, it cost a not-so-small fortune to bring someone all the way out here from Earth, and it was inefficient and wasteful to have entire families bail after only a few weeks on the planet. If these new arrivals stuck around for at least a year, then I was a hero in the eyes of the Consulate personnel department, and became the recipient of more than just the extra half-percent commission. I also received preferential treatment in the halls of government, along with more new customers than I could shake a stick at.

My firm now employed a total of nine full-time real estate agents. We also had a four-person support staff, a three-person mortgage department, and a property management division, currently with four agents. I also had a native alien-affairs liaison with direct access to the Council and the Human Ambassador-at-Large. Even with that, we needed more.

There were several other firms now trying to compete with us, yet they were late comers to the game and had a lot of ground to make up. I didn’t worry about them. I was the top-dog on Sylox, and it looked as though I would remain so for a long time to come.

For the past year or so I had begun to back away from personally working with customers on an individual basis, preferring to spend most of my time fostering relationships with the various government entities beneficial to the business. However, occasionally a new Undersecretary would arrive on the planet who could command my personal attention. Because of their elevated rank, these diplomats often bought in the eight-to-twelve million dollar range. That wasn’t a client I couldn’t easily pass along to one of my agents. I was generous, but not
that
generous.

Even though the developers of the Enclaves only paid one-and-a-half percent commission to outside agents, we supplemented this reduced commission with the other half-percent from the Embassy. That ended up being plenty, since homes within these subdivisions were much easier to sell and still resulted in a decent payday at closing, even if it meant first having to indulge the all-too-common desire to live outside the boundaries of the Human settlements.

In truth, the homes For-Sale-By-Alien were often more affordable and paid a much higher commission, often in the five to ten percent range. Yet I was smart enough to realize that I often had a snowball’s chance in Hell of selling one of these little goldmines. The change of venue between Earth and here was just too drastic for most people to handle, and especially when the buyers had a viable alternative with the Enclaves.