John Scalzi - The Observers

“For the most part,” Meyer said, and then pointed at Lowen. “Doctor Lowen here represents America’s interests here, and the United States, for better or worse, still maintains a somewhat contentious primary position in global politics, especially post-Perry. The other political interests sought to minimize its influence on this mission, which is why Liu Cong was selected to head the mission, over U.S. objections, and why the U.S. representative-apologies here, Dani-is the most junior on the mission. But none of that rose to the level of skullduggery.”

“And I was with Lieutenant Wilson here for several hours, in any event,” Lowen said. This raised eyebrows, both Meyer’s and Abumwe’s. “Cong asked me to get to know our Colonial Union liaison better so we could get a better understanding of the lay of the land. So I did.” She turned to Wilson. “No offense,” she said.

“None taken,” Wilson said, amused.

“So it seems like poisoning or assassination is off the table,” Stone said.

“Unless it was someone on the Colonial Union side,” Carvalho said.

Abumwe, Wilson and Coloma exchanged glances.

This did not go unnoticed. “Okay, what was that?” asked Lowen.

“You mean the sudden, significant glances,” Wilson said, before Abumwe or Coloma could say anything.

“Yes, that would be what I’m talking about,” said Lowen.

“We’ve had some recent incidents of sabotage,” Abumwe said, shooting an irritated glance at Wilson.

“On this ship?” Meyer asked.

“Not originating on this ship, no,” Coloma said. “But affecting the ship.”

“And you think this could be another one of these?” Meyer said.

“I doubt that it is,” Abumwe said.

“But you can’t be one hundred percent sure,” Meyer persisted.

“No, we can’t,” Abumwe said.

“What am I missing here?” Stone asked, to Abumwe and Coloma.

“Later, Inge,” Coloma said. Stone closed her mouth, unhappy.

“I think we may have a potential issue here,” Meyer said.

“What do you suggest we do about it?” Abumwe asked.

“I think we need an autopsy,” Meyer said. “The sooner, the better.”

“Doctor Stone can certainly perform one,” Coloma said. Meyer shook his head; Coloma frowned. “Is that not acceptable?”

“Not by herself,” Meyer said. “With no offense offered to Doctor Stone, this has become a politically sensitive event. If someone from within the Colonial Union has been sabotaging your efforts, then all of the Colonial Union’s apparatus becomes suspect. I have no doubt at all that Doctor Stone will do a fine job with the autopsy. I also have no doubt at all that there are politicians back on Earth who would look at a Colonial Union doctor clearing the Colonial Union of the suspicious death of an Earth diplomat and use it for their own agendas, whatever those agendas might be.”

“There’s a problem, then,” Stone said. “Because all of my staff are Colonial Union, too.”

Meyer looked over to Lowen, who nodded. “I’ll do the autopsy with you,” she said, to Stone.

Stone blinked. “Are you a medical doctor?” she asked.

Lowen nodded. “University of Pennsylvania,” she said. “Specialized in hematology and nephrology. Practiced my specialty for about three months before I joined the State Department as an advisor.”

“Doctor Lowen is eliding the fact that her father is United States Secretary of State Saul Lowen,” Meyer said, smiling. “And that she was more or less dragooned into this role at her father’s behest. Which is to take nothing away from her own talents.”

“Anyway,” Lowen said, slightly embarrassed by Meyer’s commentary. “I have the degree and I have the experience. Between the two of us we can make sure no one complains about the results of the autopsy.”

Stone looked at Coloma, who looked over to Abumwe. Abumwe gave a nod. So did Coloma. “All right,” she said. “When do you want to start?”

“I need some sleep,” Lowen said. “I think we could all use some sleep. We all have a busy day tomorrow.” Stone nodded her assent; the Earth observers excused themselves and headed to their berths.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Coloma asked Wilson after they had gone.

“You mean, about letting them know about the sabotage,” Wilson said. Coloma nodded. “Look. They already caught us in the reaction. They knew something was up. We could have either lied poorly and had them distrust us, or we could tell them the truth and gain a little trust. The leader of their mission has died, and we don’t know why. We can use all the trust we can get.”

“The next time you get the urge to make diplomatic decisions, look to me first,” Abumwe said. “You’ve done it before, so I know you can do it now. This isn’t your mission and it’s not your call to make about what we tell them and what we don’t.”

“Yes, Ambassador,” Wilson said. “I wasn’t intentionally trying to make your job harder.”

“Lieutenant, I don’t give a damn about your intentions, ” Abumwe said. “I thought you knew that by now.”

“I do,” Wilson said. “Sorry.”

“You’re dismissed, Wilson,” Abumwe said. “The grown-ups need to talk in private.” She turned to Coloma and Stone. Wilson took the hint and left.

Lowen was waiting in the corridor for him.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Wilson said.

“I wanted to apologize to you,” Lowen said. “I’m pretty sure what I said in there about spending time with you came out wrong.”

“That part where you said that you were spending time with me on Liu’s orders,” Wilson said.

“Yeah, that,” Lowen said.

“Would it make you feel better to know that my boss told me to spend time with you?” Wilson said.

“Not really,” Lowen said.

“I won’t admit it to you, then,” Wilson said. “At least not until you’ve had time to collect yourself.”

“Thanks,” Lowen said, wryly.

Wilson reached out and touched Lowen’s arm in sympathy. “Okay, seriously,” he said. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know,” Lowen said. “My boss is dead and he was a really nice man, and tomorrow I have to cut into him to see if someone murdered him. I’m just great .”

“Come on,” Wilson said, and put his arm around her. “I’ll walk you back to your berth.”

“Did your boss tell you to do that?” Lowen asked, jokingly.

“No,” Wilson said, seriously. “This one’s on me.”

Abumwe’s supreme irritation, first at the disposition of the trade negotiations at the end of the first day, and then at the death of Liu Cong and the possible implication thereof, was evident in the second day of negotiations. Abumwe began by tearing Doodoodo a new one, in as brilliant a show of venomous politeness as Wilson had ever seen in his life. Doodoodo and his fellow negotiators actually began to cringe, in the Burfinor fashion, which Wilson decided was more of a scrotal-like contraction than anything else.

Watching the ambassador do her work, and doing it with something approaching vengeful joy, Wilson realized his long-held wish that Abumwe would actually relax from time to time was clearly in error. This was a person who operated best and most efficiently when she was truly and genuinely pissed off; wishing for her to mellow out was like wishing an alpha predator would switch to grains. It was missing the point.

Wilson’s BrainPal pinged, internally and unseen by the others in the negotiating parties. It was Lowen. Can you talk? the message said.

No, but you can, Wilson sent. You’re coming through my BrainPal. No one else will be bothered .

Hold on, switching to voice, Lowen sent, and then her voice came through. “I think we have a big problem,” she said.