Shoshone Station: The Galactic Consortium season 2

Episode 9: Asha-Tanga #7

Jack walked across the wide lobby at the spaceport. He had Zeta on one side and Cheyenne Walker, her kids, Lana, her kids, and their friend, Janda, on the other. He stared out across the station and then froze, gawking. Zeta's tug at his side brought him out of his reverie. "You were right," he said, his eyes sweeping over the view before him. "Designed to impress. And they succeeded."

"Work," Zeta reminded him.

"Oh, right," he said.

A man in US military dress was standing before him. He looked vaguely familiar. "Dan Oleson, Embassy Security," the man said, saluting.

Dan Oleson. He'd been on the Corelean, hadn't he?

Sure enough, Cheyenne returned the salute, a twinkle in her eye and then said, "You can break protocol for me, surely?" She hugged him quickly. Lana came next, followed by the kids and even Janda.

Dan smiled and nodded and then returned to his stiff posture as he turned back toward Jack.

"At ease," Jack said. "I'm just the noodle guy."

That seemed to break the ice. Dan remained erect and dignified, but the tension went out of him. "Yes, Mr. Sheridan. But you are also an honored guest of the embassy, as is Ms. Walker."

Jack gave a quick nod and turned to Zeta. We are at work now, fellow diplomats, he reminded himself. "And, Ms. Kulpola, do you need an escort to your quarters?"

"I'm hardly important enough for such things," Zeta replied.

"Not true," a Kurgara said, materializing at Dan's side. "I was merely waiting until the others had finished their introductions. "Kami Narajagda at your service."

Jack said, "Well then, we'll take our leave here, I guess. You will be at Davas's speech later?"

Zeta nodded. "I will. I will see you there." She gave him a smirk and left with the Kurgara.

Dan glanced back and forth between Jack and Zeta. "Private business," Jack said, and Dan nodded. He led them down to the street, to a waiting transport.

"After the speech, Lana and I are taking Dan and his private business out for a drink, if you and your private business would care to join us," Cheyenne joked.

Dan grinned. "I will ask. It sounds wonderful."

Jack had been prepared for the warm and humid weather, but his research of Saras Station hadn't included the heavy smell of tropical flowers, which bloomed in pots along the route. Or the sounds of people bustling everywhere as they haggled in markets and milled about in crowds.

"Asha-Tanga," Dan said to Jack's unspoken question. "It's not normally this busy or loud. It is busy and loud at times, but not like this."

The transport had to slow to a stop as a large crowd passed over the roadway in front of them. A mostly naked woman leaned into their transport to offer them some traditional treats, and another couple tried to get on board, asking to be taken to one of the nearby temples.

"Sorry, this an official transport," Dan told the couple. "We're not for hire." The couple seemed put out, but the crowd in front of them cleared and the driver headed off without them.

"Ms. Walker, Blumenthal wanted to me make it clear that you are welcome to stay at the embassy, if you want," Dan said.

Cheyenne shook her head. "Thank him, again. But no. Capal Turik pulled some strings for us, and we have a place. It's not large, but it will do."

Blumenthal, Jack's boss, was waiting for them personally when they arrived at the US Embassy. Jack suspected it was more likely that he was there to greet Cheyenne, who would be one of the embassy speakers this afternoon, rather than Jack himself. They were led down a long hallway and came out into a small courtyard, where a reception party was waiting for them. 

Despite Cheyenne being the star of the show, Blumenthal did introduce Jack to the attendees and delivered some rare praise for Jack's performance on the station, especially their recent sting operation. "It really shows what we can achieve with cooperation," he told one reporter, who was in the assembled crowd.

As Blumenthal dismissed him to mingle, Jack found a local woman in front of him, one of the local staff. "I have your bags in your room, Mr. Sheridan," she said, speaking into through her translator collar in what Jack thought was Turik. "I can show you if you wish to freshen up before the speech."

"I do, thank you. And just call me Jack," he said. He wasn't used to Mr. Sheridan.

His room was small but serviceable. The bathing facilities were down the hall, but the room had a small sink, and that was enough for him to clean his face and his pits. The room was serviceable but dreary, he decided. A place to stay in, not live in. Not unlike his small apartment on Shoshone. Thinking of Zeta's homey place, a place that felt more lived in than any of the places Jack had previously inhabited, he wondered if it was time for him to find a real place to live, something roomier and more comfortable. Or maybe he and Zeta should consider living together. He shrugged the thought off. That was a question for another day.

He found the shirt that Peeta had given him as an early Asha-Tanga present. It was styled after American business attire and fit perfectly under his State Department blazer. But it was made of some advanced microfiber the Consortium used in the civil-service uniforms, and he felt much cooler with it on.

He took one last look around the tiny room before heading back down to the reception party.