Dollnick administrator of the Empire Convention Center replied. “That’s twenty-six thousand creds, which includes the multi-day discount.
“Then there’s been some kind of mistake,” the junior consul insisted. “I made a three-day reservation for the Nebulae room for the trade show, and I went back later and added a day to the front-end, to give the vendors a chance to set up before the event.”
“The only reservation I’m showing for you is the Galaxy room. The Nebulae room is no longer available on the dates you’ve requested. The Hortens have it reserved through the end of the cycle for a religious revival.”
“I don’t believe this,” Daniel practically shouted. “I made these reservations three cycles ago and I have confirmations!”
“If you don’t believe me, let’s walk down to the Nebulae room right now and you can accept Gortunda as your savior,” the Dollnick responded dryly. “I understand that the Hortens have reduced the tithing obligation to seven percent for new converts.”
“Look,” Daniel said, waving his tab under the towering Dollnick’s nose. “Three-day reservation for the Nebulae room, deposit accepted.”
“You must have cancelled and transferred the deposit to the Galaxy room,” the Dollnick said. “I suggest you check with the station librarian, since she does our recordkeeping. If you want to change your reservation for the Galaxy room at this late date, there will be a six thousand cred cancellation fee, per day.”
“This is ridiculous,” Daniel yelled, losing his cool completely. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the administrator’s office towards the nearest lift tube. “EarthCent Embassy,” he told it on entering.
As the lift tube door slid closed and the capsule whisked him away towards the embassy, he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Daniel remembered making the reservations and then later putting in the change request over the display desk in his small office next to Kelly’s. The only explanation he could come up with was that one of the advanced species had altered his reservations through some technological trickery, perhaps a Vergallian attempt to sabotage CoSHC. He thought about contacting Clive or talking to Libby, but when he exited the lift tube, he decided to start with Donna.
“You look pretty unhappy,” the embassy’s office manager observed when Daniel slumped into the chair next to her desk. “Some last minute problems with the conference?”
“The convention center messed up our reservations,” Daniel admitted. “I know perfectly well that I ordered the Nebulae room for three days, and half of the Galaxy amphitheatre for the first morning. At the last pre-conference holo-meeting, some of the attendees complained that they needed more time to set up, so I added a day to the beginning of the Nebulae room reservation. Now the convention center is saying that I reserved the whole Galaxy room for four days, and that the Nebulae room is booked solid by the Hortens to the end of the cycle. I showed the Dollnick the original confirmation on my tab, but he said I must have cancelled.”
“Was it the same Dollnick who took your order?” Donna asked.
“I made the reservations on my display desk. I didn’t talk to anybody.”
“Hmm. Shall we ask Libby if she still has the records from your desk?”
“Knock yourself out,” Daniel grunted. His mind was running a light-year a second as he tried to figure out what he was going to do with over two hundred vendors from CoSHC. The conference part of the event could take place almost anywhere with enough space, but the vendors could hardly set up booths on the steep coliseum seating of the amphitheatre.
“Libby? Can you locate all transactions from Daniel’s display desk regarding the Empire Convention Center reservations for the upcoming event?”
“Three transactions located,” Libby replied. “I’ll display them in order, starting with the initial
“Then there’s been some kind of mistake,” the junior consul insisted. “I made a three-day reservation for the Nebulae room for the trade show, and I went back later and added a day to the front-end, to give the vendors a chance to set up before the event.”
“The only reservation I’m showing for you is the Galaxy room. The Nebulae room is no longer available on the dates you’ve requested. The Hortens have it reserved through the end of the cycle for a religious revival.”
“I don’t believe this,” Daniel practically shouted. “I made these reservations three cycles ago and I have confirmations!”
“If you don’t believe me, let’s walk down to the Nebulae room right now and you can accept Gortunda as your savior,” the Dollnick responded dryly. “I understand that the Hortens have reduced the tithing obligation to seven percent for new converts.”
“Look,” Daniel said, waving his tab under the towering Dollnick’s nose. “Three-day reservation for the Nebulae room, deposit accepted.”
“You must have cancelled and transferred the deposit to the Galaxy room,” the Dollnick said. “I suggest you check with the station librarian, since she does our recordkeeping. If you want to change your reservation for the Galaxy room at this late date, there will be a six thousand cred cancellation fee, per day.”
“This is ridiculous,” Daniel yelled, losing his cool completely. Then he turned on his heel and stalked out of the administrator’s office towards the nearest lift tube. “EarthCent Embassy,” he told it on entering.
As the lift tube door slid closed and the capsule whisked him away towards the embassy, he tried to figure out what had gone wrong. Daniel remembered making the reservations and then later putting in the change request over the display desk in his small office next to Kelly’s. The only explanation he could come up with was that one of the advanced species had altered his reservations through some technological trickery, perhaps a Vergallian attempt to sabotage CoSHC. He thought about contacting Clive or talking to Libby, but when he exited the lift tube, he decided to start with Donna.
“You look pretty unhappy,” the embassy’s office manager observed when Daniel slumped into the chair next to her desk. “Some last minute problems with the conference?”
“The convention center messed up our reservations,” Daniel admitted. “I know perfectly well that I ordered the Nebulae room for three days, and half of the Galaxy amphitheatre for the first morning. At the last pre-conference holo-meeting, some of the attendees complained that they needed more time to set up, so I added a day to the beginning of the Nebulae room reservation. Now the convention center is saying that I reserved the whole Galaxy room for four days, and that the Nebulae room is booked solid by the Hortens to the end of the cycle. I showed the Dollnick the original confirmation on my tab, but he said I must have cancelled.”
“Was it the same Dollnick who took your order?” Donna asked.
“I made the reservations on my display desk. I didn’t talk to anybody.”
“Hmm. Shall we ask Libby if she still has the records from your desk?”
“Knock yourself out,” Daniel grunted. His mind was running a light-year a second as he tried to figure out what he was going to do with over two hundred vendors from CoSHC. The conference part of the event could take place almost anywhere with enough space, but the vendors could hardly set up booths on the steep coliseum seating of the amphitheatre.
“Libby? Can you locate all transactions from Daniel’s display desk regarding the Empire Convention Center reservations for the upcoming event?”
“Three transactions located,” Libby replied. “I’ll display them in order, starting with the initial
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