Reel

The mess hall buzzed with excited conversation, like an unstable reactor core pumping too much energy. Captain Arcturus had ordered the crew members working on the translation to keep what they found quiet until they had a better idea of what was going on, but even his iron discipline couldn’t keep it all contained. In the days and weeks following the first translations, tidbits slipped out, filtering through the crew and permeating the whole ship, like appetizing smells from the autokitchen through the mess hall. The latter set stomachs rumbling, while the former set tongues to wagging. Denied the satisfaction of knowing everything, the crew contented themselves with snacking on rumors and speculation, much of it wilder than the truth.

Reel kept her head down as she took up a tray and lined up for her meal from the autokitchen. Since she was already in the thick of it, Arcturus had let her keep working on the reports, listening in and gathering information. He’d made it clear that if she blabbed, she’d be off the project. She’d sooner jump nose-first into the recycler than be shut out of the translations, so she made herself small as she worked through the line, trying to avoid questions. The dispenser spat a dark green bar onto her tray with a thunk, followed by a vitamin tablet that rattled and skittered over the smooth metal. A pouch of water completed the meal. It didn’t look like much, but her mouth watered. The technical name for this was “Meal 8”, but everyone just called it “green slab”. Tomorrow would be Meal 9, red slab. A few days after that, they’d be back around to Meal 1, orange slab. She looked forward to that; orange slab was her favorite.

“Hey, Reel! Over here!”

She turned to find Hark and Roddel sitting in a corner, waving to her. Beaming at them, she made her way over to join their table. She hadn’t seen them since…well, since her own Strickening. She took a stool across from the other two engineers and clanked her tray down on the table, grateful to be off her feet.

That feeling lasted only a moment. The other two looked at her, expectant, neither of them saying a word or touching their food.

She groaned. “Not you guys, too.”

Roddel assumed an air of confused innocence. “Not us what? We’re just two poor engineers left out in the Black, wanting to know what’s going on.” He spread his hands, palms up.

Reel grabbed her slab and stuffed half of it into her mouth. “Ag dunna?” she mumbled around it.

Roddel chuckled. “Small bites, Reel. If I have to haul you back to the medbay for choking on your food, your mother will kill me.”

She swallowed, and chased the food with a big gulp of water to give herself a moment to think before repeating herself. “I don’t know?”

“Is that a question, or a statement?” Roddel quipped, nibbling at his own bar of green slab.

“Crack that,” Hark snapped. He jabbed a thick, blunt claw at Reel. “You’ve barely left the bridge since you got out of the sickbay. While the rest of us have been nursing headaches, you’ve been in there day and night. I’ll bet you know more about the people on that planet than anyone at this point!”

She took another, smaller bite to occupy her mouth and shrugged. She didn’t want to lie to Hark and Roddel; they were the best friends she had. At the same time, Captain Arcturus' grim words echoed in her mind. For a moment, the only sound was her chewing.

Roddel leaned back in his stool. “Well, I guess it wouldn’t be fair to demand that you tell us.”

Hark drew himself up in his shell. It made him look more silly than outraged. “To the black with that! We’ve been working double time to make up for the Strickening and Reel being on the bridge. We deserve to know what’s going on!”

Roddel rolled his eyes. “Eat your green, Hark. You can tell she’s been ordered not to talk about it, same as all the others.”

Hark grunted and pulled his tray in front of him. “So has everyone else, but we still hear things.” He leaned down under the table and started to rummage in the bag at his feet. “It’d be nice to know what’s really going on.”

Reel chewed another bite of green slab, thinking about all the strange things she’d learned. The truth was that she wanted to share what she knew. What would Roddel say when she told him that there were at least fifteen different languages used on that planet? How would Hark react when he learned that the people down there built ships that floated on water? Huge ones, nearly as long as Old Bug itself! They’d love that.

Surely those weren’t the kind of secrets the Captain wanted to keep. She opened her mouth to tell them about the ships, but hesitated. They’d want to know what the ships were for, why they spoke so many different languages. What would the two of them say when they learned that the members of this High Race were killing themselves by the millions?

Roddel caught the expression on her face. “It’s fine, Reel,” he said to her with a reassuring smile. ‘We’re just teasing you.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Speak for yourself,” Hark grumbled. He came up from under the table, pulling a welding laser and a set of goggles out of the bag at his feet. Reel and Roddel stared at him as he fussed with the settings. “You might want to look away,” he said, snapping the goggles into place.

Reel put a hand up into front of her face, blocking the glare as Hark ignited the welder. It was the smallest type they had, usually used only for delicate patchwork. Around the corners of her fingers, Reel saw smoke curling up from the surface of Hark’s green slab, lit by the blinding light of the laser as he brushed it over the top of his meal.

“What in the black are you doing?” Reel asked, bemused. The smoke stung her nose, and she waved her other hand in front of her face to clear it.

“Brenra gave me the idea,” he answered, setting the torch on the table with a thunk. “She said the autokitchen burned her green slab last cycle, and that it actually tasted better. So I thought I’d burn it myself and see.” He clicked the torch off again before stowing it under his seat, and tapped at the top of the blackened slab with a claw. The burnt layer cracked, and he peeled a chunk off with two fingers. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed with a thoughtful expression.

“Well?” Roddel said after a moment. “Is it any good?”

In response, Hark pushed the tray over to the lead engineer. Roddel broke a chunk off for himself and chewed. He made a sound deep in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and closed his eyes. “Oh,” he said, licking his lips. “That’s nice.”

“Well let me have a bit, then,” Reel said, and reached for the tray. Hark yanked it back out of reach, and her claws clacked on the table, short by inches. She glared at him.

He just grinned back. “Maybe you’d be interested in a trade?”

“No. Just give me the torch and I’ll do it myself.”

“No can do. I have the torch checked out in my name until tonight.”

Roddel’s shell shook up and down with repressed laughter at her stare, and Hark’s grin widened. “Come on, I’m easy. Answer three questions for us, and I’ll let you have the torch.”

Her stomach rumbled. “One question, and I can veto it if it’s something I’ve been specifically forbidden to speak about.”

“Two, but with the same stipulation,” he countered.

She looked at the crispy green slab for a long moment, her nostrils full of the smell. “Done. Gimmie the torch.” She reached across the table for it, but he snatched it back, out of reach.

“Questions first!” He wagged a finger in her face.

She couldn’t help but laugh, throwing her hands up. “Fine! Ask, you Efreet-spawn.”

“Now that’s over the line!” He broke off another chunk of his bar, crumbling it in his claws. “Okay, how about this. Are they for sure a High Race? I’ve heard Argo grumbling that they can’t possibly be; they haven’t even escaped their gravity well, right?”

“That’s technically two questions,” she pointed out. “But yes, we’re sure. Their language doesn’t match anything in the database, and if they haven’t reached space yet they will soon. We overheard chatter that…” She stopped herself. That last bit was definitely in the category of “things she wasn’t supposed to share.”

“You could have just said “yes” and left it at that,” Roddel pointed out. “My turn.” He leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “What’s the captain going to do next? What’s the plan?”

She could answer that one easily enough. “I don’t know.”

Roddel looked at her, frowning. “That’s…not much of an answer.”

“I really don’t know, though. He hasn’t said.”

“Come on, Reel.” Hark leaned in again, conspiratorial. “He’s…you know, your father. He must have told you something.”

She shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. “He doesn’t talk to me about stuff like that much.” She shrugged. “Look, that’s all the answer I have, and that makes two questions. Hand over the welder.” With a sigh, Hark offered it to her.

As if summoned by the very mention of his name, Captain Arcturus’ deep voice broke into her thoughts. “Reel,” he said. She squeaked and jumped in her seat, losing the welder. Hark caught it, cursing her clumsiness. “Where are you right now?”

She focused her mind to answer, but had to speak aloud as she did so. She still hadn’t mastered the art of transmitting without speaking. “I’m in the mess, sir.”

Hark looked baffled, but Roddel’s gaze sharpened on her. He mouthed “The Captain?” and she nodded, pointing at her implant.

“I need you in the holo room. You didn’t submit your report on the…what are they called? Italians?”

She winced, hoping he wouldn’t ask for it right that second. She’d been so caught up in listening to the transmissions, now that they could translate them easily, that she hadn’t gotten around to writing up her findings. “Uh, very sorry, sir.”

“Never mind that. Just get up here, you can give it to us verbally so we can get on with this meeting.”

“Yessir. On my way, sir.” Silence answered her; the captain had already turned his attention elsewhere.

Hark and Roddel were looking at her, brows raised in question. “I’ve gotta go,” she said, and reached across the table to snag the biggest remaining chunk of Hark’s green slab.

“Hey!” He made a snatch for it, but she had the table between them. She yanked it backwards, spilling a few crumbs, and Hark’s wild swipe fell short by a handspan.

“Sorry guys, he needs my report.” She slid the remnants of her own meal across the table to Hark. He caught it just before it slipped off the edge, and broke into another spate of cursing.

Roddel nodded towards the door. “Better get going then.”

“Yah,” she sighed, clambering to her feet. “I suppose I should.”