Free Vacation on Union Station (EarthCent Ambassador Book 7) by E. M. Foner Page A

salesman’s display of small liquor bottles. “I’m not one to waste a trip out of town just to talk politics. We’ve got some new products coming out, including a fair version of dark rum.”
    “I was about to tell our visitors that we don’t stand on formality around here, so Wooj, Lynx, let me introduce you to my closest mayoral colleagues. The booze hound there is Terri, the mayor of Distilling, and her designated driver this evening is Sheila, the mayor of Houses.
    “Great to meet you, Wooj, Lynx,” the shorter woman said. “Let me have one of those Scotch samples, Terri, and that will be it for my evening. The last one you tried on me was the right color, but it tasted like medical alcohol mixed with tea.”
    “How many factory towns do you have on Chianga?” Woojin asked their host, accepting a short tumbler full of oily yellow liquid and passing on to Lynx a glass with a diluted version of the same.
    “We’re up to forty-seven now, and some of them are practically cities,” Bob replied. “I could have invited a couple more mayors from the closer factories today, but I thought it made more sense to check you out first, if you don’t mind my saying.”
    Lynx coughed, turned red, and spit her drink back out into her glass. The mayor of Distilling leapt up and pressed a sample bottle into her hands.
    “Drink this,” she ordered. “It’s branch water, or at least, that’s what we call it.”
    Lynx took the small bottle greedily, gargled, and swallowed.
    “It’s my fault,” Woojin said to their host. “Lynx worked as an independent trader for ten years, so I just assumed she’d have developed a taste for Dollnick tequila.”
    “Try the Scotch,” Sheila suggested. “It’s a big improvement over the last batch.”
    “Don’t everybody ruin their appetites,” cautioned a black-haired woman as she maneuvered a service floater into the room. “Hi, girls,” she said to the visiting mayors before introducing herself to the visitors from Union Station. “I’m Marge. Sorry I wasn’t out earlier but I was busy in the kitchen. You must be Woojin and Lynx. I’m honored you made us the first stop on your honeymoon tour.”
    “Everything looks wonderful, Marge,” Sheila said. “I don’t know how you do it with your schedule.”
    “Yes, I’m dying for something to chew on,” Lynx added, having recovered her voice. “We’ve been eating out of squeeze-tubes the last week.”
    “Get it while it’s hot,” Bob suggested in his hearty manner. “We won’t have to worry about competition from the kids this evening. They’re off spending their chauffeur earnings on a combination pizza with fungus and Sheezle bugs, no doubt.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t encourage them,” Martha reprimanded her husband. “I know the baked Sheezle bugs are a good source of calcium, and the insoluble fiber won’t hurt them either, but some of the fungi make it impossible to get them in bed on time.”
    “You guys eat Sheezle bugs?” Lynx asked in astonishment.
    “Mainly for the crunch,” Sheila said. “Kind of like chocolate-covered ants.”
    Lynx had barely made a dent in her meal when Woojin polished off his first plateful and went for seconds. She hoped that Marge hadn’t noticed how she was examining every forkful for signs of anything suspicious in the pasta sauce. Maybe she should make something up about food allergies?
    “I see you know how to eat,” the mayor of Floaters said to Woojin approvingly. “I was afraid you were going to be a repeat of the political organizer who came through last week. He started by telling us that it was his first time off of Earth, and then he asked if we could let him have a bit of water to add to some dehydrated junk he’d brought from the mother world.”
    “He worked for HEEL,” Marge added helpfully.
    “I’ve never met a HEEL agent myself, but I hear that one showed up on Union Station recently,” Woojin said. He swallowed another forkful of the