Free Date Night on Union Station by E. M. Foner Page A

on the hour. Can openers, can openers, can openers.” The girl’s sharp alto cut through her tenor and bass competition like a Ginsu knife through a tin can.
    “Hi there, I’m Kelly Frank from the Embassy,” Kelly introduced herself to the waif of admirable volume. The girl was short like her father, with the same black hair, black eyes and a humorous, animated face. Her colorful garb might have been a traditional costume from an old Earth nation, or it could have been assembled from closeout pieces bought on the cheap. Nobody would know the difference.
    “I’m Shaina,” the girl replied, and she bumped Kelly with an outstretched elbow, apparently intended as friendly greeting. “My dad told me to watch for you. He’s down on the docking deck trying to clear up some problems with a shipment, so I’ll be taking you around if that’s OK.”
    “I’m sure that will be fine,” Kelly said with a smile. “I’m not taking you away from the business?”
    “Briiiiiiindaaaaaa,” the young woman called, and a girl who could have been a clone who left the vat one or two years after Shaina appeared out of nowhere. “You’re on, girl. I’m taking the diplomat lady around on a counterfeits tour.”
    Brinda grinned happily, threw Kelly an elbow, and started right in with the same piercing alto. “Nutcrackers, nutcrackers, nutcrackers. Kitchen Kitsch has the best collection of genuine Earth nutcrackers this side of the universe. Whisks great and small. Whisk your eggs, whisk your potatoes, we have them all. Nutcrackers, nutcrackers, nutcrackers.”
    Shaina led Kelly away through the labyrinthine paths between piles of goods, formal stalls, and random collections of display cases and tables. One of the obvious differences between the Union Station Shuk and its outdoor equivalents on worlds around the galaxy was the lack of inclement weather. Without that threat, there was no need for roofs, or for walls to support them.
    Security wasn’t necessary when the Shuk was closed as the Stryx offered zoned motion alarms throughout the deck, backed up by cameras and maintenance bots. The sharp-eyed vendors were proof against most shoplifters when the market was open, so the main theft problem was pickpockets operating in the thick press of the crowds during the high traffic periods.
    “I’m sure my father told you that we police ourselves against counterfeits,” Shaina began her explanation of the situation. “There are plenty of humans here who would happily sell the junk for a quick profit, but we run them off if they try it.”
    Although there were no barriers or lines on the floor, it was obvious when they crossed the border between the human area of the Shuk into the next section, which happened to be populated by Dollnick merchants. As they penetrated deeper into the narrow alleys formed by the vertical carousels favored by Dollnicks for displaying merchandise, Kelly’s translation implant was overwhelmed by the ceaseless cries of the vendors, and eventually it reached its noise limit and stopped trying. Without the translation and simultaneous cancellation, it sounded to Kelly like they were striding through a tropical jungle pierced by birdcalls and screeching monkeys.
    Shaina moved a little closer to Kelly as they walked and pitched her voice lower, so she wouldn’t be competing directly with the higher frequency chatter.  “But the aliens, some of them only care about making a quick score off the tourist trade. Pretty much any non-humans you see selling Earth products are selling fakes. It’s only in the retail stores on the residential decks that you’ll find legitimate Earth stuff in alien-owned stores, and even then, sometimes it’s just higher quality fakes.”
    They halted in front of one of the vertical carousels and Shaina grabbed the edge of a shelf, which brought the slow revolutions to a halt. A dazzling collection of shiny devices that Kelly wouldn’t have recognized in a kitchen were displayed on