Pen sat on the bench by her locker humming to herself as she worked the dirt from her armor. It had been a scuffed drop but they dealt with it like always. In all honesty she enjoyed the calm private time. Cleaning was a mundane enough task that she could just let her mind drift.
“The mooooon.” A baritone voice matched her humming from the mud room doorway.
“Sir…”
“I think that’s how it goes anyway. It’s been a while.” Alvarez moved in and sat down near his own locker.
“I didn’t know it had words. I just remember the tune.”
“It was a favorite of Mama’s. Alessia would cry and cry and cry when we first had her. Refused to stop. One day Mama came over, heard her crying, and started singing. Instantly Alessia was quiet. In five minutes, she was fast asleep.” He shook his head and chuckled.
“Grandma knows best huh.”
“Always.”
“How old are they now?”
“Davi is going to be three soon, Alessia turned six last month.”
“They’re lucky kids.”
“What about you?”
“What about me? Kids you mean?”
“Yea.”
“Ha! Not a chance!” she laughed at the thought.
“That’s fair. You’d make a terrible parent.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. Muck, ringing ears, and gunfire I can handle. A Kid? No, no thanks.”
“They don’t come with a training manual, that’s for sure. And yet, I cannot wait to get back to them.”
“Yea, how long till you take a cushy promotion and hang up your helmet?”
“You gunning for my job Seargent?”
“Didn’t I just say I’m not interested in taking care of children?”
Alvarez let out a hearty laugh.
“In all honesty Pen you are my first choice.”
“Please, Ashara-”
“Is most likely leaving with me when the time comes. Were both getting up there.”
“Nurse then-”
“Awali is medical. He’s dedicated to it. And don’t you dare suggest the other two idiots.”
Penelope chuckled. Mac and Hin were… special. They were special in that kind of way that meant you never left them to their own devices. Things tended to catch fire or explode when they were left alone.
“Yea… yea, I guess. Fine, when the time comes, I’ll take it, but on one condition.”
“Which would be?”
“Those care packages with your mother’s Raicilla keep coming.”
“Deal. Don’t worry though, won’t be for some time still.”
He gave her a smile as he waltzed out the door. The sound of his own humming slowly got quieter and quieter as he moved further down the corridor. She picked the tune back up as well, losing herself in the nooks and crannies of her armor. It was spotless by the time she was finished.
The dream shifted in that way that dreams do. Her mind latched on to the thought of alcohol and suddenly she was sitting in their training room. The whole team was there. Smiles and cheers all around. Nothing was happening, or time didn’t move forward at least. It was just that moment. A few seconds.
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The captain was handing small metal cups to each of them. Ashara stood against a wall and listened to Awali describe the antics he and his brother would get up to as kids. Speaking of antics, Mac and Hin were attempting to jab each other in the side without letting the other get them first.
She could feel the burning warmth spread down into her stomach as she sipped from the cup. The feeling was too potent though. She had that moment of realization that she was dreaming and couldn’t push it from her mind, pretend it hadn’t happened. Consciousness came rolling in and the dream was pushed from an experience to a memory.
She sighed, ruing the loss of the moment. Still, it was a nice one and left her with a nice feeling as it flitted away. She let herself lay in the cot and enjoy the feeling for a few minutes before she got up, dressed, and made for business as usual.
---
The morning had been uneventful. After her workout Penelope walked to the bridge and sat at her con. Gareth immediately took his leave and left Deag and her there alone. Deag kept an eye on ships systems and Penelope decided to look over the digital user manual for the Blue Nebula’s little arc caster. Technologically it was years ahead of any human equivalent. Still, the premise was simple which meant it was mostly a matter of design efficiency. A scientist might have had more to say but Pen was satisfied just knowing how to operate it.
After a long stretch of silence Deag spoke up.
“Hey, we’re not too far from our destination now and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity. I had Ton’et pick up some Terran food at the station. Naturally, they didn’t have any so they did the best they could with substitutes. How does sharing a meal sound?”
“You don’t mean like a date, right?” She turned her head, glancing at him sideways.
“A date? Like time?”
“A date is like a romantic-”
“Oh no! No, no. Just a meal between friends. Not just the two of us either. I’ve invited Ton’et, Thwilll, and Gareth. It’s a thank you for coming along with us.”
“Okay, yea that sounds nice. If anything, I’ve got to see what the hell Ton’et comes up with. I didn’t think human cuisine was something they knew much about…”
“I don’t think it is. I expect they might find you sometime today.”
“Oh, I doubt I’ll be much help.”
“Why is that?”
“Suffice it to say Gareth could probably cook a better meal than me. You can drop me in the wilderness and I’ll survive, but there’s a difference between sustenance and cuisine.”
“Oddly enough Gareth is quite the cook amongst his own people. Tonight though?”
“Huh… interesting but yea, that works for me.”
“Excellent.”
The two traded conversation for a short time before Ton’et did, as foretold, come in and request Penelope’s assistance with Human food. It turns out the gulf between Human and Ossian eating requirements was quite vast. At one point Gareth even came in and berated Ton’et for taking what he called “too scientific” an approach to food. In the end Ton’et remanded themselves to baking bread and Gareth took over most everything else. There was much trial and error involved.
The meal was either going to be delicious or an unmitigated disaster and Penelope found herself caring very little whichever way it went.
---
Food was ferried out to the eating area and marked with tags as to what was safe to eat and for whom. As it turns out Deag’s people could consume some types of meat, but certain spices were toxic. Gareth, Ton’et, and Twilll all couldn’t eat meat but found bread to be quite delicious.
“Mis- er Pen, if you don’t mind my asking, how old are you?” Ton’et asked as they began eating.
“Not at all, I am 32 years old. Which is 32 loops of the earth around our sun.”
“Yes yes, no need to explain. The translator does the conversion for you. We all know what a year is.” Gareth trailed off mumbling something about Humanity’s refusal to use the galactic standard.
“No need to be rude Gareth. Besides the number is fairly meaningless without context. 32 years out of how many on average?”
“Most people nowadays live to around 110-130. It used to be less of course but I’m sure life expectancy increasing with the advancement of medical technology is a universal thing.”
“More or less, though your people certainly benefit from a very impressive ability to recover from wounds.” Ton’et motioned to the bruise on Penelope’s jaw.
“Despite their best efforts…” Gareth mumbled.
“Gareth-” Ton’et started but Penelope stopped them with a hand.
“It’s fine. Gareth is more than entitled to his own opinions. Just as I am entitled to my opinions on his cooking.”
This clearly irked him.
“Oh? I don’t remember you offering much assistance. I assume it’s that I didn’t stick a gun in the soup or something?”
“Ha! No, in all honesty Gareth, you’re a fair cook. Credit where credit is due.” She chuckled.
Gareth responded with little more than a huff and returned his attention to his plate.
“I must say Terran cuisine has some very interesting flavors.” Deag noted.
Ton’ets head cocked and they looked off to the side for a moment before speaking.
“I wonder if we’re even tasting the same things. It may be the same food but the way each of our species discerns the concept of flavor might vary widely. What would be fascinating would be to find a means of imparting one person’s experience of a food into another person’s mind. Then we could really know.”
“… Probably a difficult ask I would imagine Ton.”
“Unfortunately so…” Ton’et remarked as they jotted the idea down on a data pad.
“Miss Penelope,” Twilll piped up, nibbling on a piece of bread, “Have you been a warrior all of those 32 years?”
“No,” She chuckled at the idea of a baby with an assault rifle, “Humans take around 18 to 20 years to reach adulthood. I joined up when I turned 18.”
“That’s quite some time then…” Deag commented.
Penelope looked around at all of them. They were clearly curious but walking on eggshells so to speak. She sighed.