---Engineering---
Striding down the corridor of the, as of recently, single occupant dorm deck, I draw up to the door that is my objective. “Computer, send alert to the occupant of 506.”
The computer takes a few moments before answering “No response, would you like to try again?”
Irritated, I flap my wing “Computer, Captain’s override, open 506.” wordlessly, the door slides open. With my hearts racing a combined 1000bpm, I step into the gloom and am immediately forced to shut my main spectrum eyes and open my low spectrum eyes in order to see. This reveals an enormous mass, radiating copious quantities of infrared, located where any other room would have a bed. I march to the glowing heap and, directing my words at the cooler patch, issue a commanding “Get up!”
The cool patch doesn’t stir but the enveloping warmth shifts. Silently, a head resolves itself with eyes, the diameter of kwarat eggs, turned towards me. The creature then emits a deep rumbling growl.
“None of that!” I say with a gentle *fwap* of my flight feathers against her nose, causing her to chuff and shake her head.
“I’m not here for you, it’s your daddy who needs to wake up! You can stay sleeping in here forever, as far as I’m concerned!”
The cool patch protests “Don’… listen to her… Fluff… she loves you *yawn* really!”
“Ah, you’re awake, good! Now get up! We’re making port in [43 minutes] and you have to be presentable for all your prospective new Terran friends!” groaning only a little further my Security Specialist stands and reveals himself to be entirely nude.
I cock a browtuft and ask “Isn’t modesty a Terran concept?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t, y’know, apply in a locked bedroom… plus it’s too hot for clothes with Fluffy snuggled around me!” he retorts.
“Why do you let her ‘snuggle’ you if you find her heat so stifling?”
He turns a bemused expression on me “Do you wanna tell a 300kg deathworld predator what she is and is not allowed to snuggle?”
“That… is a fair point.”
After Taylor has thrown on a passable outfit, brushed his oral bone outcrops (for some reason), worked a comb through his curly copper hair and has given his pet mirkbeast a ‘playful’ goodbye (involving him being repeatedly slammed to the deck with force that would have dented a full body impression into the floor of a non-deathworlder-certified cabin) we are finally able to vacate that room.
The moment the door closes I slump, gasping, against a wall and give the Terran a venomous look. “I will never forgive you for bringing that thing onto my ship, Taylor!”
Returning an amused expression, he asks “Why d’you insist on exposin’ yourself to her when it affects you like this? All my neighbours transferred to other decks when fluffy moved in and I literally hafta run an evacuation followed by a lockout on the gym to let her get her exercise. No one would hold it against you if you steered clear of her, too.”
I hold up a talon and say “One word, my young Terran friend: Pecking order!”
the Terran frowns “That’s two words…” he says, perplexed.
I give an amused *chirrup* “Not in R’qali, it isn’t!”
He thinks for a moment before shrugging “I guess, that’s the language of space secretary birds for you! Whaddya mean, anyway?”
“I cannot allow there to be a creature on this ship that is not aware of who’s ultimately in charge! I need only manage her the same way I manage you: confidence!” I preen, only partly in jest.
“Confidence…?” Taylor echoes, skeptically.
“Oh, my dear boy, yes! Both you and she outmass me, outmuscle me and are more ferocious than me by orders of magnitude. The trick is to pretend that that doesn’t matter, I’m the Captain, and acting it so makes it so! ”
Clearly still unconvinced, he feigns woundedness “And here, I thought we were friends(!) Turns out you’ve been usin’ antideathworlder mindtricks on me this whole time(!?)” he places a hand over his single heart as if it had been mortally pierced. I shake my head in a Terran expression of mild disapproval.
Then, Taylor steps in front of me and says “Listen, Cap…” in a way which still makes my instincts scream and probably always will, no matter how many more years I know him.
“What is it, Taylor?” I ask, voice permeated with concern.
“Could I ask that you perhaps don’t telegraph to the hires exactly why we need Terrans?” his cheeks are flush with IR. My translator trips a little over ‘telegraph’ but I get the gist.
“Taylor there’s no need to be embarrassed, you Humanities are a social and highly gregarious species. Looking after that need is nothing to be ashamed of!”
“‘Humans’, Cap, y’know it’s ‘Humans’ and it’s not that I’m embarrassed…” he cuts me off before I can point out that, in the IR spectrum, his face is lit up like the skyline of Ra’wakqal “…it’s not.. just that I’m embarrassed! It’s for their sake, too.”
I narrow all four of my eyes “Explain…?”
He thinks for a moment before coming up with an analogy, Terrans do so love their analogies. “It’s like… imagine you were datin’ a R’qali guy and he admitted to you that he wasn’t even a little interested in your personality? It was literally only the fact that you were Captain of the Bright Plume that interested him!”
Not really understanding at all I say “Taylor, I’m already life bonded to a ‘R’qali guy’, our cultures share the concept of monogamy!”
Waving a hand in frustration, he says “Yeah, so in the hypothetical world where you ain’t!”
“I wouldn’t care, Taylor. It’s natural that I would have a higher calibre of mate from the prestige of being a ship Captain. Qorak freely admits the prestige was a large part of what sealed the deal with him.”
At this, the Terran frowns. I decide to toss him an oklafruit “Though, I suppose, I would probably prefer a mate who was interested in my personality and prestige. Now tell me, oh wise Terran, crafter of allegory, how does this allegory pertain?”
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He smiles “It’s like, you wanna be considered worth it on your own, you know? I admit the comparison to R’qali datin’ was a little butchered…” such a violent language! “…but, like, you’d be making all the new hires feel like it’s not them you’re after, just company for me. That kinda feelin’ll fester. They might resent you, me, the ship but, most damagin’, themselves.”
I am momentarily speechless. Eventually, I managed to ask “What’s that Terran monster your always calling yourselves? Galaxy Goblins?”
“Space Orcs, Cap!”
“Yes, that’s it. For Space Orcs, you certainly have fragile little, spun glass egos!”
He chuckles at that “Yeah, we do.”
---later---
“WOW! That guy was a freak!” Taylor huffs, dejectedly.
“It’s really hard to tell with you Terrans. That was considered out of the ordinary even by your standards?” I query.
Taylor looks genuinely hurt that the question had to be asked “That guy, made 15 separate allusions to eating you, Cap. I counted. One allusion is really too many! Yes, that was abnormal, even for us. I’m not gonna be able to relax until I see him leave the ship.”
His eyes are glued to the security monitor and he gives a relieved sigh when the repulsive Terran steps off the ramp. He takes his finger away from the ‘neutralise’ button. Authoritatively, he commands the computer “Computer, blacklist Jax ‘the butcher’ Karvin from the ship, if he attempts to gain entry again, hit him with a double dose of Terran-certified, fast-actin’ tranquilisers, then notify me, do not wait to receive confirmation. Also, send a recordin’ of that interview to the local authorities, marked urgent, with the suggestion that he ought to be considered a person of interest in the recent spate of disappearances in local space.” This is why it’s nice to have competent subordinates. I give him a Terran nod that suggests I also thought of logging that series of commands with the computer and he just beat me to the flap rather than the truth, that I was just sitting here stewing in anxiety.
“So, who’s next?” I wonder aloud.
Sha’anza glances down the list, held in her trunk. “Uhhhhm… next it looks like… oh, oh dear… oh no!” her normal, healthy pink fades to an off white.
“Don’t leave us in the dark, Shan? Who’s next? And what’s gotcha this worked up?” Taylor asks. Wordlessly, Research Lead Sha’anza slides the holopad across my desk and I freeze when I see the words written there. ‘Jennie “Mouse” MacLeod: Engineer’.
Hysterical, Sha’anza blurts “We can’t hire a Terran engineer! We’d all be out on the street, or worse, by the end of the Cycle!”
“Somethin’ you guys want to enlighten me about?” Taylor quips.
Shaking more than when the (apparently) serial killer was sat across from me, I answer “Terran engineers have a… mixed reputation, Taylor.”
Sha’anza trumpets, derisively “Mixed?! That is the understatement of the aeon, Captain!” I glare at her, and she cautiously backs off.
“…an, admittedly, mostly negative reputation. Certainly, they get the job done and they’ll even take it upon themselves to ‘improve’ things that are working perfectly fine already. The problem is that the moment they leave your employ all the mad labyrinths they’ve piled up come crashing down for want of maintenance. No one else of any species is even remotely able to see how to maintain, let alone reverse all of the ‘improvements’ that Terran engineers make. They are generally thought to be a liability in the normal function of interstellar travel. The only time everyone admits you really want a Terran engineer is when you’re already in a dire predicament and everyone aboard will die without miraculous intervention. The popular expression to describe this phenomenon is that Terran engineers are ‘touched by the gods of madness and brilliance’.”
Taylor thinks for a moment before speaking “Well, we won’t know without meeting her… No group of Terrans is a monolith… Maybe she’s an exception to this stereotype?” thinking a moment more, he adds “Mind if I take the lead on this one?”
Unable to think of any suitable reason not to allow it and, not a little, anxious that every moment MacLeod sits in ship without a distraction might be the moment she find something to ‘improve’, I relent and wave an assent. Pressing the intercom I say “Qorak, sweetfruit. Would you send Ms. MacLeod in?”
My lifemate answers almost instantly “Sending her in now, my okla.”
Taylor gives me a bemused look. “Sweetfruit?”
Chirping in irritation, I say “Perks of having a lifemate-cum-secretary, you get to flirt on the job! And don’t you dare make the ‘secretary bird, secretary’ quip again, it wasn’t funny the first 140 times!”
He concedes, throwing up his hands.
As she enters I observe that the nickname ‘mouse’ is very apt. The resemblance this Terran bears to the Earth rodent is uncanny. Small, withdrawn with honeybrown hair and protruding ears. It’s almost enough to make me forget that she’s still a deathworlder with the strength to crush my ribcage in one hand.
Taylor stands and gives her an enthusiastic handshake. She winces, I’m glad to see that that can happen to Terrans as well.
“Ms. MacLeod, I’m Chief Security Specialist Victor Taylor” I let out a brief *chit* that my translator turns into a Terran throat clear. Pausing, Taylor amends “Chief Security Specialist, currently on disciplinary probation.”
“Oh” squeaks MacLeod, clearly not knowing what to make of that.
“This is Captain Tcakqaal, Head of the Bright Plume, 27th Daughter of Highspire Peak. Everyone calls her ‘Captain’… I call her ‘Cap’.” I give a single, exasperated flap of my crown feathers before extending my wingclaws for a Terran handshake. She takes them with both unexpected confidence (as Terrans usually find R’qali wingclaws offputting) but also supreme gentleness. She makes a good first impression.
“…and this is Research Lead Sha’anza, I call her ‘Shan’.” Sha’anza nervously raises her trunk in greeting.
“So, my compatriots here appear to have some… reservations about hiring a Terran engineer.”
MacLeod gives a knowing, slightly crestfallen smile. “I’m aware that we do have a bit of a… reputation but I can assure you that my experience should speak for itself. In fact, I wrote my Master’s thesis on the topic of bridging the gap between Terran and nonTerran design philosophies by means of compromising some of the performance demanded by Terran traditional thinking in exchange for a disproportionate return in the lastability and ease of maintenance favoured by gardenworlders.”
She produces a holopad and taps at it for a moment before turning it around to face me. “If you’ll look at these examples of my work, you’ll see I’ve taken great pains to make them approachable to nonTerrans. With detailed instructions largely absent of the dense jargon, so characteristic of Terran engineering.”
I look at the images, they are indeed impressively approachable. So much so that even I can somewhat understand them, with no engineering background.
The interview progresses for another 30 minutes with MacLeod making favourable impression after favourable impression.
At the end I am forced to ignore the pleading eyes of my Research Lead and tentatively offer her a position aboard my ship.
She’s clearly pleased but queries “Tentatively? Is there another stage to this interview?”
I do my best to keep an impassive expression “Yes, you and all of the others tentatively offered positions will face a final test of your suitability in Starboard Dorm, Deck 5 which, if you pass, will become your living quarters.” She flashes a nervous expression, briefly, but appears to have intuited that that will be all she finds out about the test, for now. “If you would please tell my secretary to show you to the nearest rec room. It’s just you at the moment but hopefully, soon, you’ll be joined by other successful applicants.” I smile. She nods before exiting.
---later---
Consulting my notes, I remark “That makes six; an engineer, a cook, a researcher and three security officers. That’s almost enough to fill the entire dorm!”
Taylor waves a hand in negation “Let’s not count our…species appropriate chicken equivalents. They’ve still got to pass the test. Also, I think there’s one more applicant, 23 right? We’ve only seen 22?”
Frowning at my holopad I realise that there was indeed an applicant that I had overlooked “Tuun, no last name given…” I turn to Taylor “Is that a Terran name? Do some Terran’s not have last names?”
Taylor shrugs “Could be. Can’t pretend to be familiar with every Terran culture. Let’s bring’em in and see!”
“Qorak, would you please send in the last applicant? Ms. Tuun 'Elf' no last name given: Auxilliary Security Officer?”
Taking a few moments longer than before, he responds uncertainly “Yes, she’s coming through, now.”
When the door opens I have to think extremely hard about whether the creature I’m looking at is a Terran or not. The midnight blue skin, white hair, pointed ears and luminescent eyes are certainly not typical of Terrans but on the other hand Terran’s do sometimes go in for somewhat extreme aesthetic body modifications.
It requires me glancing at Taylor to doublecheck that no, four arms with four fingers each is not a normal amount for a Terran. It’s two and five, two and five. Ms. Tuun is not Terran, I’ve concluded. Then she extends her arm in a very Terran greeting and says, in what my translator informs me is flawless English “Hello, my name is Tuun. I’m very pleased to meet all of you, thank you for giving me this opportunity!”