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“Order 86! I got an order 86 ready!”

The rich scents wafted across the street from the food stand.

“I said order 86! Order 86 is rea—“

“—yeah yeah that’s me!” Kel said as he jogged up to the window. “2 Brats, 2 flensed kimloch, a side of fries and a side of red grumpl, right?”

“If that’s what you ordered.” The Julrieten quipped, clearly indifferent to Kel’s concern.

“Right, some extra mustard too then, mate.”

Already focused on the next order coming off the line, the Julrieten casually tossed a few packets out the window, which Kel caught in what to me appeared a disconcertingly casual display of preternatural agility and speed, but which to him was no doubt entirely trivial.

He foisted the tray into my hands as we sat at the nearby bench overlooking the stairs to the Grand Chambers.

“Gotta dig in while it’s still nice n’ hot!” He said as he spurted the contents of the packets over his food. My stomach wretched as I watched the retched yellow goop ooze out.

“Heh, not a fan of mustard huh?” He said, taking a bite.

“Unfortunately not.” I replied, staring in disgust as he dipped his kimloch into the vile substance.

“Eh, your loss.” He shrugged.

Transfixed by my own revulsion, I didn’t say anything.

Finally, Kel spoke again.

“Lucky me the Julrietens’ tastes are so cosmopolitan. Were the High Council’s Hearings held elsewhere, I suppose I’d have to settle for ketchup. All the races seem to like ketchup. But, mustard? Not so much.”

“Yes, the mustard is quite…strong, particularly the coarse brown variants that you are so fond of. Whereas the ketchup is sweeter and agreeable to a much wider range of palettes.”

“Ah but, Chakky, it’s a brat! Mustard’s what you put on a brat, that and sauerkraut. But not ketchup!”

“Well I’m sorry to offend your cultural sensibilities, Kel, but I’ll stick with ketchup the next time I’m ingesting a cannular flesh repast.”

“I supposed you’d prefer some Twilthx’ka larva doused in ketchup instead, huh?”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“Mmm, now that sounds a rather palatable combination…”

We had dropped back into Collective controlled space less than a Millicycle previous, right on top of the Julrieten homeworld—current seat of the High Council—in hopes that the majority of the Senators would be planetside. For those that weren’t, we had immediately sent out word of the situation and called an emergency congressional session.

And now, with the final Representative only 100 MicroCycles out, Kel and I were gorging ourselves on street food outside the Grand Halls where, presumably, we should be assisting The Admiral and her entourage with preparing the presentation. But when Kel had suggested I accompany him outside, I knew that it wasn’t really a suggestion. Besides, i was hungry and I’d been cramped up inside for far too long, and basking in the light of the Julrietens’ Homesun—although bluer tinted than the one I grew up with—was exactly what I needed.

“Hmmm.” Kel sighed. “Not quite the same.”

“What’s not?”

“This.” He said, gesturing to his nearly devoured plate. “All of this this.” As he waved a hand to the crowds in the street and then tilting his head Sunwards, letting the rays hit his closed lids.

“It’s just… not the same…”

“The food you mean? It’s not how you had it back home? I thought the Julrieten fabricators were supposed to print with the highest fidelity of any. Your brat should be like a real brat. It should taste identical to the real thing. The… the mustard shou—“

“—no not the food, Chakky.” He said softly. “The food is fine. The brat is… is... it’s not like a real brat, it is a real brat. No less so than the ones we had on earth. Sure, someone from a few hundred years Pre-Contact might disagree, seeing as we didn’t have to butcher a swine to make it, but no one since my grandpa’s grandpa’s generation would’ve had that kind of brat anyway. We’ve been printing the ‘meat’ for centuries, and the Julrietens can reproduce it faithfully down to the individual molecule, far better than we ever did. If anything, this brat is the realest brat anyones ever eaten…” He trailed off and after pause sighed again.

“It’s not the food, Chakky. It’s not the street, or the crowds, or the sun shining down on my face.”

He turned to face me.

“It’s… it’s the feeling of those things. Eating this brat doesn’t feel like eating a brat. None of this feels right. It’s like… like…”

“Like your Homeworld and billions of your fellows, including 2 of your dearest familiars, were mercilessly annihilated less than a year ago and you are still processing the grief.” I filled in helpfully. Then, remembering some relevant inter-species differences in the propriety of directness. “Sorry!”

Kel’s eyes were wide. His mouth was open in an expression I couldn’t read. I felt the spines beginning to flatten along my carapace as I gulped. “I didn’t mean to sound insensi—“

“—you’re right.” He said quietly, looking down at his plate. “You’re right, I haven’t processed the grief…”

He stared at his food for a while, I didn’t dare say another word, so I just sat and watched the crowd. I dimly recalled learning that ‘sharing silence’ was an activity that Humans engaged in from time to time. I hoped i was remembering correctly.

“Colonel! Your presence is requested in the Great Hall!” The voice came from behind us. We turned, it was one of The Admiral’s sentries. “The Admiral has—“

“Yes right.” Kel said as he slapped his knees and stood abruptly. “Tell The Admiral that we’re on our way.”

“Yes, Colonel!” The sentry said before turning about and running back up the steps to the Hall.

“Well, come on then.” He said turning to me. Then, when he saw the puzzlement on my face. “What?”

“Colonel? I thought… you… when did—“

“—oh right, that. I got promoted Chakky. Tends to happen when the majority of your species’ military gets wiped out. I’m told that General Halker and myself are the highest ranking Human Beings still alive.”

“If General Ha—“

“—He is. They all are.” He said firmly.

“Yes, I… sorry Kel, I—“

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, stuffing the last of the kimloch in his mouth. “You’re an analytical one, that’s good, that’s useful. You can plan and strategize and be objective when all shit is breaking loose. That’s valuable, you needn’t apologize for it.”

“I understand.”

“The General is alive, Major Saxxon is alive, We are alive. All of us. You’ll see. We’re gonna go back there, get the whole gang together again. And then… well… you can guess.”

“We… we are going to be rather quite the nuisance for the… the Lizards?”

At that, Kel barked out a deep laugh, expelling portions of partially masticated food as he did so.

“Yes, Chakky, that’s right.” He said as we started up the stairs. “We are going to be quite the nuisance.”