Chapter 23: Calm Before the Storm

Solaria Federation Ambassador Michael Miller regarded the work piling up on his desk with some distaste. Since he had started at this posting on the Nude Planet, it seemed that this quiet little backwater had become the second hub for galactic diplomacy. He found it surprising, as on this planet, nobody had anything to hide, or at least no place to hide their secrets. It was to his credit that he didn't realize HE was the draw.

The peace between the Galactic Federation and the Triumvirate was holding, at least for now. They had decided that in order to keep the peace, a neutral "joint trade mission" was required. He now had two letters confirming this. In six months, they proposed to establish this joint trade mission. Could Ambassador Miller sniff around for a suitable structure on Spica II, preferably near the Capitol's Embassy Quarter? He left it in Yuki's capable hands, dictating a letter of acceptance and reminding both sides that the Spica II "dress" code also applied to embassies – they were only permitted to be established as long as they agreed to abide by the Spican rules.

The Spica-based Ursa Major Shipping Line announced they had signed a contract for a new luxury liner, SS Diane Webber. It was being built by the same company that built many of the Solaria Federation fleet vessels, would the Solaria Federation Ambassador be interested in attending its official commissioning ceremony? The Ambassador would be interested, but would have to check with both his home government and his family first. What date was the champagne scheduled for again? And where?

Another virtual pile of paperwork: visitors from Solaria. Each had been vetted as members in good standing of one of the recognized naturist organizations. They had already been vetted by Foreign Affairs at Luna City, and his staff here had confirmed their reservations were legitimate. Mike worked his way through the stack, signing away.

The knottiest problem on his desk at the moment revolved around the Bucyrus incident. Spica was being asked by not one, but two different governments to hand over the as-yet-unidentified perpetrator of the sabotage: Deneb Algenib wanted him on 2 counts of first-degree murder and 47 counts of first-degree attempted murder, and Arcturus wanted him for the poisoning of Bucyrus' original junior engineer, plus they too wanted to try him on the attempted murder charges, at least of the Arcturan passengers.

As Solaria was supposed to be representing both sides in this conflict, Mike had to assign these files to two separate individuals. In both cases, the natural assignee was Yuki. That obviously wasn't going to work.

It was becoming obvious that he'd need some help, and quickly. He added another task for Yuki: preparing the paperwork to request an additional pair of bodies for the Bucyrus extradition case.

Thomas Kinkade looked at the forms that had just crossed his desk, and contemplated his staff. Two of them? He could find that easily. Two of them to go there? And competent ones at that? Not so easy.

Just then, two of his younger staffers came in to drop off the files they'd been working on. The chunky brunette Carole Hargreaves, and the tall blond Mindy Williamson were three months into their first year working for his office, and were doing well. It would be time for them to go to another planet to learn the ins and outs of consular work. What better planet than a nice little backwater like Spica II? His visage took on an evil grin as he contemplated their reaction. Perfect.

Carole and Mindy left the building early that day, staring across the mall in shock.

"Carole..."

"Yeah?"

"Did we both just agree to go to Spica?"

"I think we did."

"My parents are gonna freak." Mindy looked numb.

Carole nodded absently. "Mine too." Then she shrugged. "It's supposed to be good for our careers."

"I guess so," came Mindy's dubious reply.

"My parents are going to freak," Carole said, still stunned.

"Mine too," Mindy agreed absently.

The Spica Merchant Marine wasn't all that large – the population of the planet itself was not that large. It consisted of three vessels, the Princess Eugenie, the Lady Godiva, and the Gymnosophist. All three were older, second-hand (or third, or fourth) passenger-carrying freighters. They were not exactly luxury vessels when the christening champagne wet their bows, and the intervening years had not seen their passenger sections' decor upgraded in any significant way.

Their primary circuit lay between the solar system and Spica, carrying a variety of goods, from wine to weather-control devices. It also carried on a brisk and now rapidly growing trade in naturist tourism.

The Princess Eugenie was the best of the lot in all terms, from capacity to amenities to date of construction. It had half a dozen lap pools that were about half again as long as a typical human form, there were sunning rooms, a tiny theatre with plush walls and an exercise room. The dining room could sit all of the guests at once. There was cabin space for eighty, each room large enough for a couple if you were fond of each other.

There was an ironclad rule: no clothes permitted.

Carole and Mandy stood in the embarkation lounge in front of the tube that led to the Princess, terrified. Their parents stood before them, regarding them both with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. Both girls had told their parents already where their duty stations would be, and both sets of parents understood immediately the sartorial implications of said duty station.

Now the pair had to take the final step: strip, hand their clothes off to their parents and walk aboard. All around them, families – not just women, not just girls, but men, boys, children – were doffing their duds. Most were happy, looking forward to journeys home or vacations, none seemed as fearful as the two textile ladies. The ones who were headed home to Spica were easy to spot: aside from a complete lack of tan lines, they'd been wearing one-piece coveralls that they barely broke stride getting free of. Carole and Mandy wore casual blue jeans and t-shirts.