Nearly everybody in the makeshift surgical suite disappeared when they took lunch. Most of them had vanished between the end of the diagnostics check on his Internal Translator and when the robot arm parked out of the way, leaving Amara and a handful of medical staff with them. That implant was also clean, as far as the hardware’s diagnostic reports were concerned, and there was nothing unexplained in the translator’s collective parts. There were still several other co-processors to check out, but those would be done later.
The needles didn’t even feel that bad when being withdrawn.
“Alright, so, uh... You guys want to get something to eat or what?” Alex sat on the surgical table, the sterile field off for the moment. He was still missing his shirt, which made addressing the few folks who remained a little awkward. It was just Zenshen and Neya, the Administrator, the nurse whose name he should probably learn, and the surgeon whose name he should probably also learn.
There was a little bit of confusion on the faces he wasn’t as familiar with as what he said turned out to be an unreasonably vague way to phrase that question. “I mean, I’m going to get lunch. Would anyone want to have lunch with me?”
“Eh, sure.” Zenshen was quick to reply, with a very casual shrug of the shoulders. She got what he was saying the first time around. “As long as you put a shirt on.”
Neya echoed the sentiment in a more formal tone that was mostly obliterated by the time the cheap translator he was temporarily using finished translating. “I will, as well.”
The other three looked between each other, the surgeon piping up first. “Is that to be taken as a question, truly, or is it an order?”
Right, right, the royalty thing. “Completely optional. When we come back, I want everyone refreshed. So choose whatever works to that goal.” Damn, that was professional. For a moment, Alex actually felt like he was getting the whole idea of being in charge under control.
“In that case, I will retire to my office, Lord. It is not far.” She bowed and stepped away from the group.
“Done, how about you two?” Alex pointed a finger at both Amara and the nurse.
Administrator Amara blanched and shook his head, all the silver fur about his face and head a strong indicator of his age after all. Hours of fairly intense work and that rough start to the project had left him visibly worn down. “If the goal is to return refreshed, I am going to take a nap.” He seemed to have picked up on Zenshen’s candor and Alex’s approval of such, an almost roguish grin on his silver and gray muzzle as he bowed and headed out to his office.
Everyone left turned to look at the nurse. “I- I do not have any plans.” He didn’t sound sure of that at all, still wearing the protective facemask that had been entirely unnecessary for some time now.
“Like I said, it’s your call my man.” Did that translate? The look of confusion he got from Neya and the nurse did not bode well for that being a clean translation. “If you want to come with us, you are welcome to.”
“Then I will.” Still did not sound too sure of himself, but he at least started taking his protective gear off, gray fur on his face pressed down in patterns from the cowl he’d been wearing.
“All right. Neya, can you get on the horn... Get in contact with Carbon and see if she can be dragged away from her work for a meal? I figure we’ll just eat in the common area.” Look at that, delegating tasks he would have preferred to do himself. Not that he could do that right now, so he was mostly forced to, but he did it without hesitation.
“Certainly.” She had her comm out already, dialing Carbon up before he finished asking. “I will be in the hall.”
The lack of both sarcasm and insistence on adherence to Zeshen norms hadn’t gone unnoticed. Invoking the real Carbon must override those. Or she was just tired of correcting him. He slipped off the surgical table, stretching his arms and back. “Everyone OK with Human food? I’ve been dying for a burger for the last few days. Then Zenshen mentioned fried chicken.”
“Hang on, someone on board makes Human food, and they make fried chicken?” Zenshen was clearly and aggressively OK with this. “I wasn’t joking about the shirt by the way, it’s weird seeing a Human any amount of unclothed.”
“I got a pretty good idea where to get it.” Alex was going to be flexing that Berkmann’s capabilities in a minute, but right now... Where had his shirt gotten off to? He craned his neck to check the obvious places that one might have set something like that down - on the furniture, on top of a workstation, the floor. “As for my shirt, I think Carbon still has it. I handed it to her and then she left and I don’t see it anywhere. You’ll have to deal with my feminine shoulders being exposed for a while.”
Zenshen looked like she wanted to comment on that, but refrained for now. “So be it. If you’ve got a chef making Human food you have to share. I don’t care what hoops I have to jump through, I just have a few things I need made every now and then. It is imperative for troop morale.”
“Oh, troop morale. That’s the singular troop?” The idea of having a chef that could whip up some Human standards, or even just a few things adjusted for his palate was a really enticing idea. Maybe he could convince one of the cooks at The Hammer’s Rest to try some stuff out.
“Look, Humans are real good at frying foods, a method we don’t really use in the same way.” Stana nodded out of the room to emphasize who ‘we’ was in this instance. “There’s been a couple of times where I would have gladly punched somebody for some donuts.”
Neya returned, clearing her throat. “Carbon has been notified. She stated that she is finalizing a few things and that we should start without her, but she will be around as soon as possible, with your shirt. Also, I have received a message that your translator module has turned up clean and is ready for you.”
Honestly the best news he’d had since arriving at Lyshen’s office. “Alright, awesome - I don’t suppose you could get that while I get lunch sorted? It’s not on the other side of the ship or something?”
Neya considered it, purple eyes turned towards the ceiling. “It is not far, perhaps ten minutes away. Fifteen at worst.”
“Oh, excellent. I would appreciate it.” The Berkmann should be able to make a meal every few minutes, so for six of them that would be just about the exact right length of time. “I figured we’d be having fried chicken sandwiches, it is lunch after all - you want that or something else?”
“Is that an acceptable introduction to Human cuisine?” Her head tilted, the hint of curiosity he heard in her voice once again obliterated by the translator.
Zenshen could not contain her enthusiasm, immediately replying in Tsla. “It is. Absolutely.”
“Sure sounds like it.” Alex couldn’t wait to get one of his good translators back and not have to listen to this hollow digitization of people who previously had distinct voices. “So, spicy or regular?”
“That is high praise. I will start with regular, please.” She said, bowing and withdrawing, off to complete that task.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Alex watched her go, still feeling a bit conflicted about her admission about her feelings towards Carbon earlier that morning. It didn’t seem to have any effect on her ability to carry out her job. Though, becoming a living copy of someone wasn’t exactly a job in the conventional sense.
“Suppose we should get that dispenser fired up.” Alex grabbed the awful little plastic translator and headed for the door as well, Zenshen and his nurse in tow. He looked over his shoulder at the one member of this party that he didn’t really know at all. “So what is your name, anyway?”
Deno Mosa was quiet and awkward, even through the cheap translator. Alex was once again left wondering if that was because he was just like that, or because Alex presented a wide variety of unknowns compressed down into a single person that may or may not be a pile of stereotypes. He did at least get to float the idea that it may be related to Zenshen’s rather forward flirting with him earlier. During a medical procedure.
Did Tsla’o flirt in a way that he’d recognize? Carbon had gotten him a few times, but she had some time to study Humans, and hadn’t really done so before he did. Certainly given how easily she picked it up from him, it couldn’t be that different.
He set that aside as he found himself standing before the Berkmann, Zenshen and Mosa sitting at a table in the middle of the common area and talking in a much more relaxed tone. Search function, perfect. Fried chicken. So many options, and most impressively: a custom order function. Who needed presets? He set up a clone of the best chicken sandwich he’d ever had, from a little hole in the wall shop back on Mars. Straight cut fries, light salt. Keep it classic for the newbies. High speed poly plates, no sense in making fine china for fast food. Six copies, three spicy. He was hungry.
It asked him a glorious question: would you like this order set up for catering?
Yes, actually, he would. Covered trays and everything. Alex bumped up the selection of fried potatoes a little, adding in the curly variety and some onion rings. A pitcher of iced tea - unsweet, this time. A few extra sandwiches as well, because he was letting this unrestrained power go to his head. Picnic assortment plates and plasticware.
He hit go, the little circle spun for a few seconds and it coughed up a timer: twenty minutes. Human minutes, for once.
For the first time on board the Sword, Alex felt a little comfortable. There was just a normal conversation going on behind him, too far for the translator to pick up but amiable sounding. He wasn’t relying on anyone else in this moment, even though he was very much in the middle of needing a lot of assistance. It reminded him of being back in college, even of being in high school.
He slid a chair out from the closest table and sat by himself. It was quiet in here for the moment, save for the background chatter and the distant hum of life support systems. It wasn’t the first time he’d listened to people talk in a language he didn’t know, or know much of, and what it actually reminded him of was being in a place where he felt like he was supposed to be. Where he wasn’t an alien, or a tool, or a threat.
The Berkmann played its little jingle and the door opened, the first flight of things already finished - just the plates, glasses, napkins, and two liters of tea. Nothing particularly complex. He delivered it to Zenshen and Mosa, poured himself a glass, and went back to waiting.
There was a curious relaxation to just sitting by himself, feeling slightly comfortable, and staring at a progress bar. Nothing was expected of him, there was no pretense to keep up, his mind finally wandered nowhere except for some delightfully banal thoughts about how good the tea was, and maybe looking into getting his parents a Berkmann. Certainly they made a narrow format? Lots of smaller ships used the 40 centimeter standard, which was the same size unit they had in their home. It seemed likely they would want to tap that market.
The fries were up next. He hoarded the covered tray, the aroma of freshly fried goods wafting out. The physics of how a dispenser worked was beyond him. Hadn’t gotten into the right classes for that, but he appreciated that it did work.
Maybe he should see about getting his own small ship, now that he was thinking about ships again. He’d have the cash for something nice after all that hazard pay and various bonuses for finding new alien relics and technology cleared. His use case had changed a little bit, though. Have to seat at least two, if not three now. Tosses out the De Luca Schiavona, the best looking De Luca, but only a single seater. Real shame as it was a very affordable ship on the aftermarket, because they had made way too many.
Maybe something with a little actual living space? Ships got complex when you started talking about anything with more than a few seats, features getting piled on to improve margins. If you got a bed you’d automatically be looking at a ship with a galley and a complete head, which meant full water and sewage handling systems and complex, multizone life support. Getting awfully close to having something with waveriders at that point, too. Sure, his wife could do the maintenance, but those were still a lot of dCred up front. The entire point of having his own ship would be defeated if he couldn’t afford to put hydrogen slush in it.
Could probably get it topped off on the Sword for free though.
That mid-range, ‘I want to putter around Sol with my family but not actually jump out of system’ sort of vehicle was... He exhaled through his nose, already disappointed that he was legitimately pondering that class of ship. Compact cargo haulers with their holds refit into a sleeping cabin were in that same price range, too. The second gen StarAce did have a certain rugged charm to it.
The Berkmann sang its song one last time and he collected up everything, hauling it over to the table - trays still quite hot to the touch. Zenshen and Mosa had distributed plates and utensils. They were sitting across from each other at one end of the table, which was just wide enough to fit food he set down onto it. “So, formalities question: should we wait for Neya? She didn’t specify, but Carbon did say to start without her.”
Stana tipped her head back, eyes wandering the ceiling as she thought it over. “Ah, if she was a normal person we could probably start without her, but I’m not sure about how a Zeshen should be treated in this particular situation, particularly when wearing their Aeshen’s sigil. If I was going to act clever, I’d say that Carbon saying to start without her is her response to that query.”
“That does track with how she would behave, yeah.” He popped the lid off the closest tray, a dozen sandwiches in neat rows present within. Most in a plain white paper wrapper, though four were an obvious shade of red. Given that blue was the color the Tsla’o used for go, perhaps it was not that obvious. “White is regular, red is spicy. What if she takes the sigil off and goes back to being Neya before she returns?”
“Man, I don’t know. Treat her like a normal person?” She shrugged again, brown eyes turned his direction and clearly annoyed that he was asking her questions she could only guess at answering. “Despite my name, I didn’t even think I’d ever meet a Zeshen until a couple of days ago when I found out I’d be working directly with Royals. The finer points of decorum around them are not taught to commoners. That’s your domain, Lord Sorenson.”
“I’ve only been doing this for like five days. I figured you would have picked up some details, you know, growing up knowing they exist at all.” Alex noticed Mosa starting to look freaked out at the intensity of the conversation. While he wanted to inquire what she meant by her name, he tamped his tone down and turned his attention back to the food. He was definitely starting to feel a little hangry. “Pop the lid on that, would you?”
The Sergeant was on it, steam billowing into the air as she handed the lid to Alex. “All right, I’ll give you that. Your understanding of our society isn’t as deep as mine.”
“Thank you.” He stacked them together and tossed them onto the empty table next to them. Now, where should he sit down? This was one of those questions that would not have been complex a few days ago but immediately became so because now he was Lord Sorenson, Crown Prince. Next to Mosa was out. Guy was nervous enough as it is, even if that meant the nurse would end up sitting beside Carbon or Neya, who at least had the benefit of being Tsla’o.
Maybe the far corner?
Maybe he should stop overthinking it for a minute. Alex pulled the chair next to Stana out and sat down. Just stack up next in line, like he would have any other time in his life. Carbon would end up across or next to him, that was perfect. Couldn’t do better. “Alright, so the fries are- Well, speak of the devil.”
Neya returned with his good translator in hand, his jacket folded over her arm, and still wearing Carbon’s sigil. Alex crammed the earpiece back into the little slot on his temporary unit and tossed it into the pile with the tray lids, visibly glad to see it go as he took his possessions back from her, pulling the dark red jacket on first thing.
While he would normally run the external translator through an encrypted shortrange to his implants, Alex wasn’t going to be turning those on until he was sure they were clean. He opted for the pair of low profile earpieces tucked away under a panel on the back. High end jobs, self fitting gel and the whole package was barely visible once he’d gotten them seated. “Somebody say something. In Tsla.”
“Something.” Of course Zenshen would get that out first.
On the up side, the voice piped into his ears sounded like what he expected. Alex still rolled his eyes at that response. “Well it works. Most important part. As everyone but Carbon is here, I suppose we should get this meal underway.”