[NOVA] In the Gray (M/K 1.2)

WPTunes

You've transitioned into FTL. Into the Gray. You know that if you could see through the bulkhead, you would be looking at an undistinguished blur of white streaks blending into the absolute blackness of space.

Mei, you've finally got a moment to review your "Eyes Only" orders. Director Church implied that there might be some explanation in these, some reason why the military cares about this anomalous emitter, what these "auditory hallucinations" have to do with Space Corps interests. Instead, the orders are simple to the point of terseness. You are to find the source, determine its nature, and eliminate it. You suspect the last bit is not precisely what Melzer-Togawa has in mind.

As you digest this, the Captain's voice comes over the intercom. "Welcome to FTL. We have a tradition about the Stalker Jane that the first evening meal after entering FTL is shared by passengers and crew. I'll be cooking." You hear Lourdes in the background, barely carrying through the mike, "It'll be good! She rocks a galley!" "Ahem. We will be eating at 1900 hours. If you have any allergies or dietary restrictions, please feel free to keep them to yourselves. Thank you." A few seconds later, the intercom crackles to life once more. "And, folks? We dress for dinner around here."

Rich

[Ksenia]

Great. Eating. What used to be such a pleasant way to bond with people - friends, family, my unit, lovers, now is a chore. An exercise in being uncomfortable. I'm always left with the choice.

Do I consume my bland paste, which actually accomplishes the goal of food in that it provides nutrients to my biological parts? Someone will comment how it looks like gray oatmeal, which is one hundred percent correct. I'll make some crack about it, then sit and nibble at it feeling like some ass for the rest of the meal.

Do I eat nothing at all, just try to have conversation with everyone? That accomplishes the goal of the meal, which is social, the meet and greet part of the deal. Interaction. But then the host might be offended that I'm not eating, or they might even come at me about not asking for something I could eat (answer is - the paste). Invariably someone will exclaim how awesome something tastes, ask me to "just try a bite", which then does taste amazing, and makes me feel depressed after. I miss food, real food. I miss meat, chewing, sweets, ice tea. I miss iced tea.

Which leads me to the last option - just eat up. I can eat food, my mouth works, I have a storage container in my midsection that will hold a small amount of material. But without fail, I will get ill, violently ill, because my body no longer knows what to do with actual food. So I'll spend half an hour in the bathroom dry heaving and then I'll feel nauseous for an hour after.

I hate making this decision. It really irritates me. I fret over it all the way up to sitting down, like I always do. I'm sure I look pissed off. I can't help it, it's just not fair. All the choices suck!

Mischa

[Mei]

I review the orders four times. I check, verify, and recheck the authorizations. Investigate and eliminate. No ambiguity that I can see. I chew on my lip for a while, staring at my terrarium, watching the little shrimp move about in their little shrimp lives.

I brighten at Dai's message. I knew she was the cook. Her crack about keeping allergies quiet relaxes me. She's not all business.

This will be the first real social test of our little group- can we share a meal together and remain civilized?

WPTunes

The common area has been off-limits for a few hours, as has the galley. When you enter at the appointed hour, it has been transformed. The lights are low, with small groupings of electric candles on many of the surfaces. The ping-pong table is in the center of the room, dressed with a white tablecloth and actual china and silverware (a full set: knife, spoon, two forks, a dessert spoon above the plate). White cloth napkins with subtle pastel gray flowers embroidered on them are folded in fans atop the stacked salad and dinner plates. Each setting has both a wine glass and a water glass. In lieu of flowers, there is a small orrery as a centerpiece, clockwork whirring slightly as the brass models of the planets of your ancestral star system turn around the gleaming central sun in their stately Keplerian motion. To top it off, there are placecards. Assigned seating.



There are two large turned-wood bowls of actual salad on either side of the centerpiece. Greens, crushed nuts, halved pickled grapes, thin slices of apple, crumbled blue cheese. The serving forks are wood as well, a matched set. Two carafes of chilled honey-lemon colored wine. The water glasses are full, condensation beading on their sides even in the dry ship air.

Dai, resplendent in a full-length silver-on-gray dashiki that complements her headgear, gestures for you to take your places at the table, and Lourdes leads the way, grinning. She clears her throat. "A few hours ago, we transitioned into FTL. Despite all the math and the science, what that really means is that there is no way to rationally explain where we are right now. Combined with the visual sensations of the streaking blurred starfields around, that lack of knowledge led early FTL pioneers to call this state the Gray. We are in a literal gray area, neither here nor there. God and a very sophisticated nav computer willing, we will eventually be somewhere again, but for now, well, here we are. Most ships have some sort of ritual to commemorate that strange fact. This is ours. Thank you for joining us."

She sits and starts serving salad, first to Church and then to Mei.

Lourdes has been smiling the whole time, enjoying the wide eyes of the grunts and even the lack of surprise on Church's controlled face. She starts serving, as well. Ksenia, she gives you a wink.

What do you do? What are you wearing?

Rich

[Ksenia]

We dress for dinner around here?

What the frak? I don't. I don't even have nice clothes. I mean, shit, the best I did was buy some new underwear for the trip, and no, not because Mei's on board. My shit was ratty as hell, alright? And it's the opposite of sexy, all sarong leisure bras and basic boy short panties. See what I mean?

I don't panic, but I do wonder how to pull off a t-shirt and slacks for a bit. That is, until Mei heads over to the 3-D printer to make her dress. I feel like a complete idiot when she does that. I wonder if she sensed my quiet freaking out? I hope not.

I print out a simple black dress. It's got shoulders, but no sleeves. I decide at the last minute to remove my milspec arm. It just doesn't "fit". Well, I don't know. I just take it off. The dress comes just above the knee. It's nice, but pretty simple. I don't even want to deal with heels, so I have flats. Luckily my cybernetic leg isn't nearly the ugly robotic thing my arm is. I mean, it's fake as hell, no way I could pass, but at least it doesn't scream "super robo arm"!

I spend an inordinate amount of time reacquainting myself with makeup. I borrowed it from Lourdes, which is why she winked at me.

In my head, I look like this:


Of course, that's a lie. I have the scar on my forehead, just over the left of my eye, cuts through my brow. And the piece of flesh on my right cheek, where they had to replace my cheekbone, which was pulverized in the blast. They did some decent skin grafts, but the red scar is still ugly as all hell.

And, you know, no right arm.

The dress is nice, though. Here's how it looked in the catalog I hastily found:


I have no idea why I went to all this trouble. Why did I do this? I should have gone with the t-shirt and slacks. I feel like I'm at my first dance. It was sixth grade, and the boys were scared of me. I didn't blame them. I was faster than all of them and tougher than most. Comes with the territory when you're a street rat. None of them asked me to dance, of course.

Lilly Pandergrass took pity on me at the end. Brought me some punch, asked me to dance with her. I did. Not "close dancing", just, you know, girls on the dance floor. It was really fun. She was a good kid. She never made it off Mars. Had a kid. Killed in a mugging gone wrong. I frakking hate Mars.

Okay, that's some perspective. This is way better than Mars.

Mischa

[Mei]

I'm glad for the warning for dress; I only packed two sets of travelling clothes, two sets of flight uniforms, and some boots. They're just grubby things meant for shuttles and comfort. Something about Lourdes' emphasis makes me spend more time than usual with the catalog. I've got a few designs on file that flatter me, and I'm suddenly very very glad that I checked for updates to my media before we left. One of the designs has a few tweaks I can easily make in order to better suit the company.

I can pull off a simple little black dress; this one covers one shoulder, leaving the other exposed. I loosen it below the waist so I can move easier, but it gives enough hint to my trim body, and yes, I do try to show off my bottom a little with this cut. The system suggests a chic edit to bring up the neckline to cover my throat; I take it and hit print.

The preview looks like this:

I wear my titanium earrings and let my hair down. I fuss with it in the mirror, trying it up. Maybe Ksenia has an opinion. If she doesn't, my instinct it to let it loose. I spend too much time brushing it, getting out some nervous energy. On a whim, I don't wear shoes in Spacer tradition. Legs are sometimes almost useless in space. Clàudia, a girl I knew in Academy, got her toes augmented to be more prehensile, a very sensible thing for zerogee. I look at my legs, scrunching up my face with imagination. I'm not sure it would suit me.

I feel a little uncomfortable sitting next to Gaumata and I start running through psi exercises to remain calm and closed. I may have scored higher than ze, but has a lion ever tried to sleep in a room with a mosquito? I feel a hint of something from zer. The orrery is captivating, and my eyes keep going to the motion. Dai looks amazing, ravishing, the color is perfect for her skin and her cyber. I bow my head in honest gratitude and the state of being pleasantly surprised and impressed. (I'm sure there's a German word for that.) I look at Lourdes, too. I want to make sure they both receive the compliment. "Your home is beautiful. I'm grateful that you are sharing it with us." I smile politely at Church, a little more warmly to Sung.

My fingers want to trace the wood on the salad bowl, the coolness of the water glasses. I've never eaten from ceramic plates before. I wonder what the forks feel like, too.

Ksenia looks totally different in casual gear. I never imagined her in a dress before. Or makeup! I try not to watch her too much, but my eyes drift. And she's causally not wearing her arm. Just like that, like it's no thing. A small part of me wishes I could be as brave as she.

What's Sanchez wearing? Lourdes?

WPTunes

Apparently Sanchez and Sung both packed their dress blues, because they're all dolled up for the parade ground, brass polished and shoes spit-shined. No lids, of course, because you're inside. Sanchez's medals contrast sharply with the PFC stripes on his shoulder. Sung's Order of Valor medal shines brightly, but seems to exert gravity on his left side, pulling him off center.

Lourdes, on the other hand, is extravagant. She's wearing a sleeveless, form-fitting green dress that compliments both her red hair and her tattoos, elevating them from decoration to art. Her hair is up in an elaborate fall, and she is (for the first time you've seen) wearing subtle makeup to even out the freckles. Around her neck is a chain with an ancient, tarnished key.

Gaumata is dressed much as usual, which seems more appropriate in this setting, but Church is simply spectacular in a neatly tailored evening suit that shimmers slightly in the light from the electric candles. It emphasizes the definition of his upper body and seems to reflect light into his dark eyes, giving them an unaccustomed gleam.

After filling the glasses of Sung, Dai and Mei (as well as his own), and waiting for the rest of the wine glasses to be filled, Ezekiel Church raises his glass. "To our gracious and lovely hosts. May they fly far, and without turbulence or mishap."

Mischa

[Mei]

I raise my glass. I'm in total agreement. "To our hosts," I murmur. I take a sip of the wine. It's sweeter than I expected, somehow smoky and light, and I find myself blinking appreciatively at Gaumata, sharing the moment. Or trying to.

There's a complex aftertaste, too! I take another sip to make sure.

Rich

[Ksenia]

I raise my glass with the others, and with nothing witty to add, I simply say "Hear. Hear." Then I put the glass to my lips, take a small sip. Enough for show. I could drain the whole bottle and my system would filter out the toxins before I got a buzz. But then I'd have to empty my pouch. Plus, my system keeps a log of all the alcohol I imbibe. Yeah, guess how I found that out? Frakking fine print.

I look over at Lourdes, lean over and tell her, "You look smoking, Dinah." I give her a grin. Not leering. I'm just being nice.

Mischa

[Mei]

Lourdes does look smoking.

I look at the salad. It's clear that Dai put a lot of time into it. Look at those apples. I wonder what the cheese tastes like. I spend a blink or two regarding the salad.

Funny, the cheese doesn't look blue.

WPTunes

Toast accomplished, everyone starts to dig in to the salad. "Fresh" greens are unusual for most of you, and the bitter bite makes Sung scowl for a moment until he gets to one of the pickled grape halves. His eyes light up, and he swings his head to Dai. "Ma'am, this is simply amazing. The... combination... the sweet and... this is amazing!" He seems truly humbled and grateful.

How does the salad taste?

Mischa

[Mei]

"Ummm," I say, chewing with my eyes closed for a moment. The bitter and the sweet, the crunch and the smooth. I take another bite. It's very balanced. The fresh vegetables are indeed a rare treat, and I wonder if there's a hydroponics rig on board.

After a moment of savoring, I look at Gaumata, and clear my throat with a small sound. I take a sip of water — not wine again so soon, and inquire, "What do you think of the salad, Doctor?"

Rich

[Ksenia]

In for a penny...

I take a small forkful to my lips, one with a slice of apple, some greens, one of the grapes, even some blue cheese.

In for a pound.

I'm going to be paying for this soon, but man, this is good stuff. On Mars, there were no salads. In the Corps, the veggies were few and far between, and never this fresh. I've had salads like this a handful of times, always on furlough on some far-flung pleasure planet or in a posh restaurant that me and my squaddies crashed in our dress blues.

Like how these frakkin' jarheads are dressed tonight. I miss my dress blues.

Mei's chatting with Gaumata about the salad. I want to hear this.

WPTunes

Mei, Gaumata glances at you, considering your question. Ze is full on femme tonight, zir jacket low-cut and barely concealing zir nipples. Ze chews, slowly, thoughtfully, then turns to PFC Sanchez. "Are you enjoying the meal so far, Boots?"

Mischa

[Mei]

"Well, I am." I quietly say to another bite of salad. My eyes meet Ksenia's for a moment. Mine dip down first, then quickly back to her. "Much better than the galley on the Dauntless, right, Cribbage?" My smile is back in place, remembering the boxed premade crap food on that boat.

Ksenia, please stop ignoring me.

Rich

[Ksenia]

Mei asks me about the Dauntless, drawing me out of my food-induced haze. It's been months since I ate something that had an actual taste.

"That galley was nothing more than a pair of vending machines and storage crates for K Rations. This place kicks its gigantic ass." I answer her with gusto. I also cursed like a sailor. Damn me and my foul mouth.

WPTunes

Sanchez chews and seems lost in the sensations for a moment. He looks at you, Mei, and says, "Shit. That's some... this tastes almost as good as you look, Ensign Mei."

Ksenia, Boots has that look. You've seen it before a hundred times.

What do you do?

Rich

[Ksenia]

What do I do? Nothing. Not right now, at least. It's just Sanchez being Sanchez. Still a slut, I see. I am curious how Mei responds. She better keep her shit together, he's enlisted, she's an officer. That could go sideways.

In the Corps, there's a saying. "Frak left or right, if ya gotta. But never up or down. NEVER up or down." It means, simply, the brass will generally look the other way is you're banging a squaddie. But if it's your CO, you are both up shit creek.

So I look over at Mei, watch her reaction. My face is still a little happy from the blue cheese and grape flavors, they mixed so nicely. But I'm watching this like it's a prize fight and I got a grand on the underdog. Mei, knock his ass out.

Mischa

[Mei]

I finish my bite of salad. I feel a lot of people looking at me, but maybe it's the wine. "Thank you, Private Sanchez. But I'm off the menu." I grin to take the sting out of the rebuff. It's just a compliment, right? He is cute. But stop it, Mei! You're an officer now. ...and we're due another transition in a few days.

I'll bet Dai would enjoy him doing the KP work, but I don't want to bust his chops until I need to. I look at her out of the corner of my eye with a conspiratorial twinkle.

Rich

[Ksenia]

Good call, girl.

Mei's looking over at Dai with a self-satisfied grin, which is cool. I look back down at my salad, thinking about another bite. I want to save room for other food, but the grapes and blue cheese call my name. I can hear it, "Ksenia... please eat us. We don't want to go to waste. Hundreds of kids in H-B block back home are starving tonight."

Damn you grape and blue cheese, you convinced me. One more tiny bite, with some greens for color.

WPTunes

Church is a remarkably precise eater. Every bite of salad contains just a bit of each element, although it seems to happen without any noticeable effort on his part. Between bites, he chats amiably with Dai, complimenting her on the exact things about her ship and its operations that will please her the most. He looks across the table at you, Mei, with those dark appraising eyes, and says, "Ensign Mei, you are simply lovely tonight. Do you get a chance to dress up out of uniform often? You wear it well."

Ksenia, down at your end of the table, Lourdes and Gaumata turn to Sanchez at the same time, both adjusting their posture to show their breasts off to full advantage. They speak simultaneously, words tumbling over each other. As Gaumata is saying, "Tell me about your decorations, Private Sanchez, they're fascinating," Lourdes is saying, "Boots, they do call you Boots? You fill out your dress blues very well. Is there a secret to your workout regimen?"

Sung, focused on his food up to this point, looks over to this sudden Sanchez sandwich and nudges you in amusement. Sanchez seems a bit bewildered, but game.

Rich

[Ksenia]

I take the opportunity to watch Sanchez squirm, but I'm not staring at him. I glance over at Sung, smirk with him for a second. I'm really trying to enjoy this salad, pushing out the thought of it coming back up. Trying to figure out what food is next, how to save room for it. I'm glad Sanchez and Mei are taking up the attention, I'm awful at this shit. Polite conversation, all that.

WPTunes

Ksenia, Sanchez is squirming, yeah, but he's a natural. He's polite with Gaumata, but Lourdes clearly has more of his attention. Certainly not the ham-handed compliment and question, but maybe the dress, or the hair, or the tattoos, or the fact that he's pretty sure that she won't be a dude tomorrow? One hand on Lourdes' forearm as if to promise he'll be back to her soon, he addresses the doctor. "These here are for Combat Action. That's Meritorious Service - funny, the guy that first pinned that on me is the one that busted me down to private." He looks over at you with that. He's pretty modest with the next few ribbons, which you recognize as Valorous Conduct awards. "These I got for being more stubborn than smart. And this one was for winning the three-legged race at the Space Marine picnic. Thank you for asking a poor ol' grunt, Doctor!"

"K, I bet your chest was a lot janglier than this before you..." He stutters to a stop, realizing it's probably not a topic for company.

Sung is clearly uncomfortable now. You realize he's looking down at the Medal of Honor ribbon on his own chest. The one that the world sees as a recognition for ending the rebellion on Jamie's Triumph. The one he probably sees as an albatross around his neck, a reminder that he killed his friend and lover.

Rich

[Ksenia]

Sanchez was looking for a lifeline, throwing that my way. I mean, yeah, poor choice of words, but he's doing what he can. I throw up a hand, "They didn't take them away, Boots. I've got them up in a nice display case, and now my chest doesn't jangle. Which is fine for me," I look down at my dress, "Wouldn't look as good on me as it does you and Sung."

I elbow Sung, not rough, just a "checking in" thing. I'm not giving him any pity, but I'm not going to mock the guy's loss, either. I feel you, man. Buck up.

"Dr. Gaumata, have you ever been as far out as we're going on this trip?" There, that's a nice neutral question.

Mischa

[Mei]

I'm drawn to Church's manners. He's so exact, very balanced. It's like a ballet of vegetables. I try to mirror, to learn the right way to hold a salad fork, how far to place a glass, to keep the napkin off the table. I feel out of my depth- the cost of his shirt alone, to say nothing of the culture needed to support it. I feel positively feudal. "Thank you, Mister Church. Your suit is remarkable, is it from spider silk?" I take a sip of wine, break from that deep gaze briefly, remembering the lonely progression from the arcology to the lively dinners at the Academy. It was usually BDUs. At graduation, it was full dress uniforms. "But no, my last formal occasion was before Psi Corps, shortly after we got back from the Dauntless missions." I look to Sung, he's familiar with the ticker tape parades. I was well coached.

I keep my gaze level, but I can feel my pulse moving in my neck.

I'm lightly aware of Lourdes and Gaumata all over Sanchez. Sanchez isn't off Lourdes' menu. The three of them make quite a set.

I've never seen Ksenia's medals. I bet she jangles.

WPTunes

Lourdes continues to flirt with Sanchez, apparently forgetting that she ever asked a question. Boots responds with that smooth way he has, that way that was already getting him in trouble back when you were out on weekend passes together tearing up the bars in the shit town outside your training base. He keeps the doctor on the line, too. It's almost like watching one of those zero-g acrobatics divas, swinging and looping and connecting...

Mei, Church thanks you for the compliment and confirms that the suit is indeed spider-silk. "You have a fine eye, Ensign Mei. I suspect you hold many other surprises in store, as well." You taste copper, and when you look up, there's the faintest shimmer of gold some distance behind Church. You shiver a little in your sleeveless dress.

Ksenia, Gaumata answers with zir usual condescending tone, so different from what ze is adopting with your old buddy. Though talking to you, ze is looking at Church with an unreadable expression. "I am generally considered to be too valuable an asset to send into the field." Church raises an eyebrow and Gaumata stops speaking, turning back to Sanchez.

At some unspoken signal from Dai, Lourdes disengages and begins to clear the salad plates. Ksenia and Mei, your plates both still have some food on them. How do you react when Lourdes reaches for them?

Dai stands. "Please continue chatting. I'll be back with the soup in just a moment."

Rich

[Ksenia]

I hand Dinah my bowl, "It was delicious." I mean it, too.

I'm pretty sure Gaumata's answer is supposed to sound snide, but there's something about it that sounds a little sad, too. "I've read your dossier, Doctor. Lots of letters after your name. I'm sure you'll be an excellent peer." Yeah, frak you, Gaumata, I said you're my peer. Hear me? I'm the doctor of shooting people in the face.

"You're more than just an asset, though. Right?" I ask zir. "Do you travel?"

WPTunes

Ksenia, Gaumata considers your question. "I do, although not normally in a professional capacity. It is said, and I believe it true, that travel broadens the mind. Have you ever seen the triptychs in the abandoned alien structure they call the Cathedral, on San Dismas? The balletic mating dance of the Cloud Whales in the upper atmosphere of the gas giant Heraclius? Wondrous, indeed."

Lourdes leaves the room with the dishes just as Dai reenters with a large tray holding eight bowls of steaming soup. She sets the tray on a nearby table and serves the soup, two bowls at a time. Dinah returns with two baskets of bread and places them at either end of the table. This accomplished, Stalker Jane's owners both sit. The whole process was well-choreographed, with a hint of ritual.

The soup smells delicious. Looks to be crumbled sausage, sliced potatoes and some hearty green (kale? you've seen pictures, but only had it freeze-dried) in a creamy broth. The steam carries just a hint of spiciness.

Lourdes says, "This is one of my favorites. Dai insists she has some Tuscan connection, generations and generations back. Tasting this, you'd almost believe it. Dig in!"

Mischa

[Mei]

Cora's trying to tell me something, but the wine feels like it's interceding with the psionic matrix. I can't have a second glass. Who knows what might leak out. I can't also keep saying thank you to Church like a trained ape. "What about you, Mister Church? What surprises do you have? Er, skills?" I reach for the wineglass, hesitate. Go for water.

I grab the last salad bite, then the really last bite of grape, as Lourdes takes the plate. I overreach and almost knock over my water glass. I look up at her, a little humbled by her transformation from grub to glam. I feel like I look good, hot even, but Lourdes clearly has a few points over me.

I wonder what the next course Dai has for us?

WPTunes

Mei, Church begins to respond, then pauses politely as the Captain enters with the soup. Once everyone has been served, he gives you a soft smile. "As a project manager, Ensign, being prone to surprises would be something of a hindrance. As to skills, you might say that I am a synthesizer. I am given a problem and a pool of elements and individuals to choose from to solve that problem. I bring those elements and individuals together, provide appropriate guidance (although not usually first-hand), and follow up to be certain the problem is solved. Gesturing at his as-yet untouched bowl, he continues, "You might say that, given a hunger and a pantry, I make... soup."

Church and Sung, accidentally in unison, taste the soup at the same time. As Church compliments Dai again, Sung simply says, "Wow."

Rich

[Ksenia]

Oh shit. I'm going to be paying for this, big time. But I don't care. I've only ever had the packaged variety of this soup. Or the vat grown version handed down for hundreds of years through a particular restaurant franchise. But this? This is the real deal.

Zuppa Toscana.

I'm sipping at first. Then slurping. Shit, I'm tempted to turn the damn thing up. Conversation for me is listening-mode only for a bit. Periscope down. Soup time.

WPTunes

Ksenia, the new course seems to have temporarily put the tug-of-war over Boots to a halt. Lourdes sips at her soup and looks over at you just before you get to the "plant your face in it and inhale" stage. "I was wondering if you'd be able to enjoy this. I haven't seen you eat anything but that paste... I even talked to Dai about it, but we decided to go ahead as normal and just make you as welcome and included as we could. I see you like the soup?"

Ksenia, when was the last time someone asked if you liked the food you were eating and seemed to really care about the answer?

Rich

[Ksenia]

I pause, looking up at Dinah with obvious surprise on my face. They talked about my eating needs? I'm caught between embarrassment and elation at the tiniest bit of understanding. Not a medical evaluation, someone being concerned. My face is cold for a moment like all the blood ran out of my head.

For a moment, I almost put my spoon down. It crosses my mind I could just excuse myself. I feel like I'm on the spot, though. Oddly enough, I don't feel like a freak.

After a bit of consideration, I answer, "This tastes incredible." That seems insufficient, so I add, "I'm not supposed to eat actual food. It doesn't, well, agree with me. But, I thought it was worth the discomfort to. Well, to enjoy a meal with this fine crew." I offer up a bit of a helpless smile. And man, I feel tiny right now.

Last time anyone truly gave a shit about the food I was eating was Jermaine. We met when I was only six months in the Corps. I was still pretty back then: no scars, even had curves still. He was a fantastic cook. An even better lay. We spent the whole week living together, out of the blue, I just up and moved in to his flat for the rest of my furlough. I had to go back to base eventually, though. Ended up on a year long tour before I swung back to Ganymede. By then, he'd moved on.

Mischa

[Mei]

Church actually seems like a good manager. I take mental notes, but I suspect the Melzer-Togawa C-Level handbook covers a few grey and black areas when it comes to the Space Corps regulations. But Tylar told me to never discount the wisdom of those whose life experience is better than an integer multiple of your own. So I take it with a shaker of salt.

Gaumata's obvious pleasure at recollecting the sights across the systems holds my attention. I'm hungry for space travel again, and I know it shows down to my bones. I'm a Spacer. After the Dauntless, I want to know more about the alien artifacts of San Dismas. And space whales! I must go to Heraclius, and I keep nursing my wine as I daydream a little. Flying.

The smell of the bread hits me, and my eyes widen with surprise and delight. "Captain Dai... I.. I just have no words!" And I promptly catch myself before I shove an entire roll in my mouth. I shoot a sheepish look to Sung, hoping nobody else caught my near-gaffe.

I dip the bread in the soup. I meet Ksenia's eyes as I take my first taste. I like it! Listening to her touch on her eating, my eye bounces to her cybersocket and scars. I never thought about it before, and I race through my memory, seeing if I offended her with some casual comment or unthinking remark.

"Cribbage," I call. I raise my wineglass, beaming and remembering to swallow. "To this fine crew." I even remember to toast everyone, though I start and stop with her.

WPTunes

Mei, When was the last time you had fresh, hot bread?

The soup delivers on the promise made by the salad, of course, and you can't help but wonder what's next. Does every independent ship live like this? It seems extravagant.

Sung catches your look, Mei, and returns it. He's overwhelmed by the generosity and luxury, despite having no doubt been in attendance at many "conquering hero" dinners over the last six years. Those were certainly institutional affairs, not this sort of hand-crafted gift.

Ksenia, after your statement about the meal, Lourdes puts a hand on your shoulder. Your right shoulder, which currently has no arm attached to it. She squeezes a bit, up close to your neck where it's all flesh. "I'm glad you're here, Ksenia Cribbage. It's nice to have someone to challenge my gameplay aside from the AI."

It's at that moment when Mei calls you out in her toast. What do you do?

Mei, as the table responds to your toast, someone draws your attention. Who is it, and why?

Rich

[Ksenia]

I offer Dinah a thankful look, hint of a smile. I don't want to make this into a thing, but Dinah's really getting to me. I haven't had a real friend in a long, long time. From secondary school to the Corps, it was all about my career, with a few stops along the way for fun. Then the accident and the aftermath broke me into a hundred pieces, and I built back up just doing work for MT.

Don't get me wrong, I've had comrades, and in many ways, they're more important than friends. But this meal right here has already paid off more than I hoped. I really dig Dinah. Dai, too. I could work on this crew after the job, maybe. Especially if they can afford a spread like this.

When Mei calls on me the first time, I look over at her. It's just an acknowledgement, really. She's giving me respect, and I let her know it's appreciated. Then she goes round the table, and it feels good, like a brotherhood (pardon the gender-laden term, I cut my teeth in the Corps).

That second time, though. She calls on me the second time, and it sounds different. More special. I meet her eyes, and hold it. It feels like forever. I haven't looked at her this long since... since I thought she was going to die in the middle of nowhere on a forgotten alien ship.

I'm still here.

Mischa

[Mei]

Not since I was a girl, maybe six? One of the fostering mothers in the arcology could actually bake; this was almost a scandalous display of, of, of humanity. Of non-arcology behavior. Of individuality. I have no idea how she screened into a living slot. But this woman, Eileen, she insisted... And once you smelled it, tasted it, you dide argue... You asked for more. They asked Eileen to leave, and she moved to the farm.

You know there's a little section in your brain, the amygdala? It's tightly integrated into memory. It's also physically right by the smell center. The two areas have some crosstalk, so smells are a strong trigger for memory.

The amygdala also controls and dispenses fear.

I can't think about poor dead Eileen any more. This bread is too good to dishonor her. It's been a long time since I felt such mixed things about the arcology orphanage.



I'm glad for the shared moment with Sung. I won't let him down.


But Dai, she has a deep look in her eyes. This meal means something. It's beyond food, beyond crew, it's the ship. In that second, we have a click of understanding. These ephemeral moments, this meal, this sharing, this is the Stalker Jane.

WPTunes

Mei, Dai sees you seeing that look in her eyes, understands that you get it. She meets your gaze and there's a moment where she holds it, then she gives you the very slightest of nods, just a tilt of the chin. Eileen's ghost floats on the scent of the bread and Cora hovers indistinct in the corners of your eyes. It's a melancholy moment laden with hope for an uncertain future. You get one of your rare flashes. Dai. She's younger, prettier, probably a better pilot. What the hell, though, she understands. You've broken the code. What do you say next?

Ksenia, Mei meets your eyes for a long moment, then drifts over to consider Zoo Dai. What did you see in that moment of connection? Or, what do you think you saw? How does it feel when Dinah takes her hand from your shoulder to raise the toast?

Rich

[Ksenia]

I saw a wonderfully strong and hopeful person. She's the same plucky girl I met on the Dauntless, but now she's growing into a leader. She may falter a step along the way, but I've got her back. I hope she knows that.

You'd think it would feel odd when she removes her hand, but it doesn't. It feels pretty great. She doesn't feel stuck, like "oh hey, I'm nice to the frakking cyborg, so now I gotta keep touching her". It feels more genuine, like she meant it.

I'm really looking forward to kicking her ass again.

Mischa

[Mei]

The moment is heady, topped off by Ksenia's look to me, and I think I will take that last sip of my wine. I blink rapidly when I get the flash off Dai, holding it together, trying to play the psi vibe as just emotion, maintaining my warm smile. I open my mouth, and my tongue touches my teeth for a brief moment as I playfully consider my words. But the light strikes just so, and I consider sketching Dai like this. The moment is back, solid.

Instead I cross my legs under the table and brush a stray hair behind my ear. Happily, not too eagerly, I offer, "Captain Dai, Ms. Lourdes, I can't wait to see what you've got in store for us next." The food and the voyage, I mean.

WPTunes

Soup course is done. Ksenia, you know you've compromised your capacity for whatever awaits by slurping up the last of the Zuppa, but you're still okay for the moment.

The same dance happens as before, Dai excusing herself while Lourdes clears the soup bowls. During the pause, Doctor Gaumata speaks. "Ezekiel, have you ever experienced such hospitality or..." Sanchez flinches a little as the doctor's hand moves beneath the table. "...company on a chartered ship? Delightful."

Dai enters again, with a frakking roast of some sort of beast, on a platter, surrounded by small potatoes and carrots and onions. Lourdes comes back in, as well, and gathers up the large plates from each setting, bringing them to the table where Zoo has laid the platter. The smell fills the common room, savory and redolent with the scent of herbs that you've never smelled like this.

Sung's eyes nearly roll back in his head, and Gaumata might actually be drooling a little as you wait for the thick slices that Dai is carving to arrive at the table, accompanied by a rich pan gravy from a boat that Lourdes carried in. Church smiles, but Gaumata asks despite zir obvious reaction, "Is this pork?"

Mischa

[Mei]

My eyes get big. My nostrils flare. I've never had anything like this before. My tongue licks my lips in anticipation, and I feel my mouth watering.

"Oh," It's almost a sigh.

I might need a shower after this.

Rich

[Ksenia]

Frak, I'm almost full already? Damn you, zuppa toscana, for stealing away my tiny capacity for holding food. I have to throw in the towel soon, which sucks. Such is life. At least I got salad and zuppa. I think I can sneak in a few bites of this.

"It's the rare Who-Roast beast, Gaumata." I quip in response to zir. It comes off a bit more bitchy than I meant, probably because my body is already starting to begin it's revolt over my food. My delicious, wondrous food. I wish I could keep it longer.

Look to Dai and Lourdes, then down to the roast. I should probably excuse myself now, see if I can puke up all this goodness before the spices tear me a new one.

But I don't. Not yet. I want to enjoy this. It's rare and beautiful. Friendships could be made here. It feels special. No small amount of it stems from Mei, I think. I want to watch her eat this. I feel like I could enjoy the food through her. And I will steal a couple bites of my own.

WPTunes

Dai smiles and addresses Gaumata directly. "This, Doctor, is lamb from New Aotearoa. When we stopped there on a run five years ago, I bought a dozen lambs and had them broken down." Lourdes grins as she sees the group process "five years ago." "We have an external storage compartment, radiation-shielded but otherwise open to the cold and vacuum unless we're heading in-atmosphere. Flash-frozen, vacuum-stored, no bacteria."

Ksenia, your storage isn't full yet. You've got a little room left, and you know you're going to pay for this regardless. The roast smells delicious.

Dai carves, placing generous portions of lamb and roasted vegetables on each plate, and Lourdes carries them to the table two by two. The gravy boat gets passed around and there's a pause, as if everyone is waiting for some signal or permission to dig in to this (for you and the grunts, at least) once-in-a-lifetime treat. Lamb roast in the Gray? The moment is like the transition itself, seeming to stretch and take on its own weight until Church picks up his knife and fork and slices off a neat bite from his lamb. He swipes it through the gravy, spears a carrot on the end of the fork, and puts it in his mouth. His eyes widen. "Captain Dai, it seems surprises abound on the Stalker Jane. I've never had better."

Sung and Sanchez are clearly relying on their Marine discipline to avoid just shoveling the food in their mouths, and Gaumata seems to have entered a state of satori. For a long minute, the food holds all the focus and no one speaks.

Finally, as your companions settle in to the main course, the Captain addresses you, Mei. "I know it's rude to talk business during a meal, Ensign Mei, but I've been wondering if there was anything in your orders that Dinah and I should be aware of, anything that might affect the Stalker Jane?" Her look is intense.

Rich

[Ksenia]

I fastidiously cut at the delicate lamb to make myself tiny squares of the stuff. This isn't easy one-handed, but I pull it off because the meat is so tender. I pour a dollop of gravy out, then scoop enough in a spoon to ladle a bit on each square. Then I switch to my fork and try to slowly bring each square up for a single bite. I want to make this last.

It's a shame that the wine's already been de-toxed out of my system. It takes some serious whallop to have even a hint of an effect on me. It did taste excellent, though. I mean, I'm no wino, er, wine-taster expert, but I've drunk enough in my day to know what's rotgut and what's tasty. That qualified as tasty.

Dai hits Mei with questions about the mission, and I'm quite interested as well, but also curious if she's even allowed to say. Stupid Psi Corps and they're need-to-knows.

Mischa

[Mei]

You can eat a lamb? I sure as hell want to. This smells heavenly. Even though we're drifting in the nigh-unknowable Grey, the animal human in the cage still wants to feast on flesh. It's a little unsettling. But I can't deny my urges here. I cut a bite — it still bleeds! — and raise a mouthful on my fork. Across the table, my eyes lock on Ksenia. Her dark eyes are looking at me intently as I place a shamelessly large hunk of lamb in my mouth. She's a study in differences, about to eat a practically dainty bite the size of a fingernail. I watch her as she watches me, and I close my lips on my fork, and an explosion of umami and heat and cool and juice and flavor and a smoky aroma overwhelms me. I feel a rush as I chew, eyes closing with pleasure, treasuring this; I'm not even thinking about psi leakage right now, this is almost overwhelmingly good. I feel myself breathing faster as I chew, and the flavors intensify with the rush of fresh oxygen and scents. Shush, Mei, don't overthink it. After swallowing, I open my eyes and Ksenia's still watching me. I bite my lip and think about another glass of wine.

Dai snaps me out of it and I gather myself up to answer. "Captain Dai, it would be rude if I didn't stop complimenting your cooking! I've never had a lamb before and you have spoiled me forever." My smile is easy. I lean back from her, when did I lean forward? and sit up straight to answer as an officer. "Ma'am, no, ma'am, the Stalker Jane should be fine. Any effects would be as a result of the emitter, not our orders." Technically true. I worry about any psychic backlash from eliminating it, or if the hallucinations would disrupt normal ship ops.

WPTunes

"And are you free to share any of what you've learned from your orders, Ensign Mei?" Church asks, seemingly casual, "Anything that might affect Melzer-Togawa's interests, for example?"

Ksenia, as you chew your third tiny bite of lamb (how is it, by the way?), something about Church's question and demeanor catches your attention, your instincts. His tone is mild, but his posture has subtly changed. Despite being seated and apparently at ease, your brain suddenly evaluates him as a threat. You recognized a subtle tension in his muscles that he may not even be aware of. He may not know it, but his body is ready for a fight.

Rich

[Ksenia]

The lamb? It is slightly sweet and delicate. The spices add some interesting complexity. That's how food-lovers talk, right? It's amazing, more than I could ever cook myself, better than any meat that's touched my lips. I'm in sensory overload, really.

Zoo and Dinah are incredible hosts. If this were my last mission, if this were my last meal? I think it wouldn't be so bad. Not that I'm looking to go out, but this is better than death row inmates get.

Church is feeling touchy about what Mei knows? Welcome to the club. Thing is, I trust Mei. So I'll give her the space she needs, and I'll back her play here. No way Church is a serious threat. I mean, two marines who will protect Mei, not to mention me. What's he got? A bunch of expensive gear and a sex-swapping science officer. Yeah, I wouldn't bet on him. I'll keep an eye on him, though.

Mei keeps looking at me. Does she need to talk? Is she having trouble? I'll watch her a little more closely. Not staring into her eyes, since she might be freaked out by me. Not that I blame her, I can come off a little intense sometimes.

WPTunes

Ksenia, Lourdes is intensely focused on what's going on at the other end of the table, but she takes a moment to turn to you, put a hand on your shoulder again. In a low tone, "Be sure to save a little room for dessert, Cribbage. It will be worth it." Despite her interest in Mei's response, this seems... important to her. "It's my little contribution."

Rich

[Ksenia]

Dinah breaks my concentration, and the way she tempts me with dessert is, well, really damn effective. This girl's really touchy. I mean, she likes touching. It's not bad, but it's different. Reminds me of Lana, a childhood friend. We were thick as thieves, literally, from ages twelve to fourteen.

It's a little weird, and I don't share this with people because they will get the wrong idea. But Lana was my first kiss. We were "practicing". For boys, of course. She had a boy she really liked, his name was Jun. She wanted to be a great kisser. So we practiced. We would sneak off into her closet, turn on her little music player, and in the dark, we would "practice". In the end, she was most definitely a great kisser. Jun didn't complain.

Oh, back to Dinah. I reach up and put my left hand over hers, give her a little smirk, "I will. Just don't be offended when it, ah, comes back on me." Wow, that didn't come out how I meant it.

Mischa

[Mei]

I shift in my chair, once. I think about what Dai said a second ago, You're right. It is rude to talk work in front of this dinner. No matter. I take a sip of water and proceed to cut another delectably large chunk of lamb meat."Mister Church, I will know more once I've been able to review the nature of the emitter." I stab my piece of meat, and look at it, dripping with liquids, blood and sauce and juice. I turn it perhaps a quarter turn so I can look at it from a different angle. My nostrils flare as I get ready.

My foot accidentally bumps Dai's. I pull it back without thinking. Officers don't fidget, Mei!

I haven't reviewed the hallucination logs yet. I ask him directly. "What are Melzer-Togawa's interests here? I'll need to know for my analysis... after dinner, of course!"

I bite into my lamb, chewing happily. I definitely want to captain my own ship.

WPTunes

Mei, Church nods at your verbal parry. He seems to approve. "Of course, Ensign Mei, I'm sure we will have the opportunity for a more thorough discussion while we are in the Gray. It is best if we understand each other."

Ksenia, just as you are about to take another carefully measured bite of lamb, with maybe a bit of potato this time, Sanchez lets out an enormous belch, then immediately blushes, the red contrasting sharply with his dress blues. "Excuse me..." Sung leans his face in his hands while Gaumata actually titters, and Lourdes pats Sanchez on the back as if he were a child. "There, there, Boots."

Mischa

[Mei]

I nod politely, but I don't trust him. I have command, regardless of Melzer-Togawa's interests, right? This is a Space Corps mission, and I'll have to watch my step. Between Dai and Church, this could be very rocky indeed. I try not to feel small, and I suddenly wish I would've printed out some heels.

I think I will take that second glass of wine. I still have more lamb meat, too. Oh, these carrots! I crunch with relish, distracting myself briefly from the power play I fear is coming.

Rich

[Ksenia]

I giggle-snort at Boots. I cover my mouth with my left hand (of course), and swallow my latest tiny bite.

"Some things never change, Boots." I look at the crew, figuring I should break the growing tension and push-pull between Mei and Church. "Boots and I went through Basic Training together. They shipped us out to New Camp Lejeune Base, out on Rhea. That was the longest trip a pack of jarhead-wannabe Martians like us had ever taken."

"Sanchez comes from a big family, six brothers and a couple sisters. He's a middle kid." I rattle this off without even thinking about it. "His mom cooked every meal, and the whole family is loud.: I hold up my hand to him, "No offense, man. Your words, not mine."

"First day of training we're sitting in the cafeteria, eating our first tray of good old Navy chow. We'd just finished a low grav fifteen K hump, and all of us were feeling it. Drill sergeant Frost was not happy with our effort, and everyone was angry and homesick."

I look over at Boots, "Boots here, he's tearing into this muck, eating it like it's five star stuff. Me? I'm pushing around food pellets and trying to pretend some of it used to be living or something. Then BAM, Boots lets out this titanic belch."

I pause, for effect, then lean forward, looking at everyone, "The whole table cracks up. Because hey, why not, right? There's Boots, swearing up and down that's how his mom knows the food's good, and we're like table manners, grunt."

Then I lean back, my expression a bit more serious. Here's the moral of the story, "But I tell you true, that laugh was just what we needed. We all started chatting back and forth, gave each other nicknames, finally started acting like a unit. Probably saved our cans."

WPTunes

Sung chuckles with understanding. "It's the funniest sh... stuff that builds unit cohesion, isn't it? Remind me to tell you about Mean Joe and the stuffed gorilla sometime. Not appropriate for this refined occasion.

Mei, after the wave of chuckles and apologies dies down, you take a sip of the second glass, which Dai has poured for you. The wine is perfect with the lamb, and you realize that, of course, that was the whole point.

Despite the occasional moments of tension, the probes from Dai and Church, the whole table seems relaxed, convivial. Even the Doctor has stopped trying to prove ze's the smartest person in the room. Conversation is casual and light as you finish the lamb. Sanchez and Sung readily agree when Lourdes offers seconds. Mei, do you eat more?

Eventually, you finish the main course. As Dai and Lourdes begin their ballet (Dai clearing this time), Ezekiel Church excuses himself and heads into "his" cabin for a moment.

Rich

[Ksenia]

I will definitely follow up with Sung about the gorilla story. Sounds like a classic. I've pushed back from the table at this point. I know I haven't eaten very much, but I feel it. It's a good feeling still, with hints of impending less-than-good forthcoming. Still worth it.

I notice Mei's on her second glass. Her posture is more relaxed, which is good. I wonder why Church has stepped out, but no alarm bells are going off. It's not like he's concocting some secret evil plans.

This is the best I've felt in a long time. I really like the Stalker Jane.

Mischa

[Mei]

I am not counting calories, I am not counting calories, I am not. Instead I am saving room for dessert. And perhaps a late-night snack while I'm reviewing mission data. I'm already planning to have a double workout. I watch Dai's smooth, practiced motions, taking care to ratchet down any hint of interest. Perhaps I shouldn't have more wine. I sip some anyway, watching everyone and thinking private thoughts. I hope they stay private.

I frown faintly when Church leaves, wary and a little suspicious. I wonder what he's up to.

I liked Ksenia's tale. I feel like she's telling me something wise and I promise I won't let her down.

This wine is good. I don't want to run on, so I keep to small talk. This is s good ship and I feel a pang of... Wistful jealousy? Future envy?

WPTunes

Dai reenters, holding the door for Lourdes, who walks in with something truly astonishing, on a large mirrored platter.



Dinah carefully places the platter on the table that was used to serve the lamb earlier. Church slips quietly back in with a bottle under his arm and eight small glasses, setting them carefully on the table in front of him.

Dai announces grandly, "Ladies and Gentleman, for the coup de grace, our lovely pastry chef has created something that is not only delicious, but scientific." Church and Gaumata clearly understand what's coming next, but their smiles are appreciative all the same.

Dai hands Lourdes a clear bottle filled with dark amber liquid, and the engineer deftly sprinkles some all around the... what's it called? ...meringue, maybe. As the Captain lowers the lights (lowers the lights?), Lourdes says severely. "If anyone other than me ever starts a fire on this ship, your body will never be found, because I will eject it through the airlock." Then she takes out an electronic spark lighter and sets the dessert on fire. The flames begin blue, then taper off to red as they consume all their fuel. A few seconds later, the flames are out, the meringue now lightly browned and a smell like marshmallows wafts toward you in the currents of the ship's ventilation.

Church applauds.

Rich

[Ksenia]

The gigantic whatever-it-is astonishes me. I've never seen anything so huge before in my life. I thought I was full, but the sight of this dessert has my mouth watering. Then Dai's giving her speech and I'm confused. She's going to burn it? Seriously? But, but, it looks divine! I want to eat it nao!

I look at Dai and Dinah in turn and I know my mouth is hanging open. I look like some backwater hick, but there is enough reserve for me to sit still and watch. Sure enough, the dessert burns in a flash that reminds me of willie-pete. Sung flinches, just a little, probably some PTSD, but I hold it together.

That smell, like roasted marshmallows over a campfire, brings back memories. We were out on bivouac on my second tour and Corporal Owmotowoje, who we called "Omo" for short, brought some marshmallows. It was funny, our unit out in the woods on Kepler-186f, roasting marshmallows like some pack of Rocket Scouts.

I pick up my fork and wait for my fish like a tiger would wait for the herd of antelope to come by. Any moment now, I'm going to pounce on that stuff.

WPTunes

Gaumata raises zir eyebrow elegantly. "Baked Alaska in space? I have now seen everything." As Lourdes begins to slice the confection, she speaks up. "Actually, Doctor, since it was served en flambé, it's technically a Bombe Alaska. It's a small point, I know." Gaumata's eyebrow goes down and the other one goes up, perhaps conceding the point.

Here's what Dinah serves you. A layer of sponge cake topped with a checkerboard of strawberry and chocolate ice cream, encased in that newly toasted meringue. Your slice, Ksenia, is modest, but everyone else gets a quite ample portion. No way to save leftovers, you guess.

Rich

[Ksenia]

I softly murmur a "Thank you, Dinah," in the most earnest tone I can manage, then I wait for the slightest flinch of a fork moved to food by someone, anyone else. I'm starting to feel it now, and I want one last good taste on my lips and tongue before it all comes crashing back on me. Please, you idiots, stop prancing around and eat this frakking thing.

Outside, I appear calm. Well, calm-ish. But definitely ready to eat.

WPTunes

As Lourdes and Dai finish serving, Ezekiel Church begins to open the bottle he brought in. "Friends, I have a Gray tradition of my own, which I would like to share with you."

"On ancient Earth, during the first great Age of Exploration, there was an island in Portuguese territory called Madeira, which had a long history of wine making. As ships came and went from the island, on the way to the New World, they would take on barrels of wine to trade in the new, bustling colonies. To preserve the wine for the long journey, they added strong spirits. This, combined with the heat of the equatorial journey and the jostling of the ship, caused a strange and wondrous transformation within the barrel. By some chance, one ship made the return journey across the equator with their wine unsold, and when the winemakers opened a barrel to taste the product, they discovered this transformation. Those conditions, excessive heat and movement, normally undesirable, somehow turned the wine into an elixir. Sugar and acidity balanced, caramel and coffee flavors from oxidation allowed by the cheap barrels. Soon ships were carrying barrels of Madeira as ballast back and forth on the crossing, as the belief was that crossing the equator twice provided the magic of the final product."

He pauses, then bends his head down in a humble gesture. "Thank you for indulging me. There is a personal element to this. When I left the Amazonis Conurbation to enter University on a scholarship provided by Melzer-Togawa, my recruiter and mentor told me that story, about supposedly unfavorable conditions proving to be a catalyst for greatness. It was a challenge to me, and one I embraced. Six years later, when I first started working for the zaibatsu, he gave me a bottle of Malmsey Madeira. Now, decades on, whenever I travel on an FTL ship, I carry a few bottles of Malmsey as 'ballast'. This bottle has not crossed the equator of Earth even once, but it has transitioned to and from the Gray many times. I hope you enjoy it."

He pours into the small glasses, precisely equal portions in each. He moves around the table with his graceful stride and places one in front of each of you. Back at his chair, he raises his glass, still standing. "To the Stalker Jane, her owners and those who sail on her."

Mischa

[Mei]

Dai is right. The pastry chef is lovely. I really am starting to feel the effects of this wine! My eyelids feel a little heavy, my thoughts just shy of being muddled. I'm very curious about the whatever it is... and the swirls stir echos of memory from the alien ship, and of Cora. I have no idea what Lourdes means, she's the only redhead? I half-chuckle, not understanding, not wanting to go out the airlock.

Then... fire.

My eyes widen, I push back, I grab at the table by Dai and let out an choked off yelp that might've been embarrassing if it was much louder or longer. The smell of the flame, the heat, it kicks me in my fight-or-flight and I half-tense to dive for the flame suppression on the bulkhead. Gaumata and Dai can't help but notice. I hope Cribbage, Church, Sung, and Sanchez don't. I feel a hot bead of sweat on my cold flesh and I want to smash Lourdes' beautiful creation before we all burn.

I don't like unexpected fire. One of the cadets in my cohort, van Oosterman, died in a fire during a drill. It was horrible.

This takes a half-second, maybe a full second before I realize what's happening and I understand that this is all part of the pageantry of dinner. I feel foolish and green, kicking myself and fearful that I ruined the dinner with my fear. Dammit, Mei! But conversation goes on, Gaumata and Lourdes quipping, Ksenia and the men wanting to dive in. Church starts a story and I think I'm off the hook. Then I see Dai's deep eyes... we share a moment of understanding again, just two bucketheads in a tin can. I push on a little shrug of what-can-you-do. I try not to feel like I let everyone down like a stupid little girl... but as far as I can tell, Dai saw (which means Lourdes knows) and Gaumata saw (which means Church knows).

Church has a compelling tale about wine, and my mind drifts away to water-borne ships. When it comes around to the toast, I raise my glass and murmur, "To the Jane," with the rest. I take a deep breath, three glasses of wine is a lot for me. And this is more excellent wine, very complex. I aim to drink enough to be polite, but I leave the glass half full.

I try the dessert, but I have to eat around the burnt part. I don't finish it.

Rich

[Ksenia]

Church is Martian, too? That's three of us. Well hell, we could practically mutiny. Not that we would, but it's good to know. I'd never heard the story of Malmsey Madeira. It could just be a story, but that's not the point. I like it. Trials and tribulation make the sweeter and stronger spirit.

Sweat has started beading on my forehead now, and my stomach is audibly churning. I'm trying to hold on. just this one toast. Just let me hold this for a little bit longer.

"To the Jane" I follow Mei's toast. It's a simple one, but fitting. More words would spoil the magic of this dinner in the Gray. I bring the glass to my lips, open them slightly to let the aromatic wine our inside.

But no, it wasn't meant to be. My gorge rises, my eyes water and everything in me tries to expel all the food I've taken in. I put the glass back down quickly, but it tips and falls. Damnit! I scoot back the chair, my left hand to my mouth, and I'm walk-jogging to the head.

I'll be FUBARred for an hour now. Maybe longer.

WPTunes

Mei, you've never seen Ksenia react to food like this, but then you've always seen her eating some sort of paste and generally your rations weren't much better-looking. You notice that Dai and Lourdes share a concerned glance, but they don't seem embarrassed or angry. Gaumata seems torn between amusement and disdain.

Sanchez reaches across the table to grab Ksenia's barely-touched dessert. "Anyone mind? I'd hate to see this go to waste." Not waiting for an answer, he slides Ksenia's narrow slice on his own plate.

Mischa

[Mei]

I watch her, concerned. I thought I had too much wine. I just manage to keep from rising up to follow her. But she's a big girl and I sense she would hate the attention. I'll have to check on her later, in private.

Between the fire and Ksenia and the wine, I'm done eating. Sanchez can have the rest of mine, too.

I'm cotton headed, feeling happily buzzeddrunk, and ready to lie down. I'm glad got the bottom bunk... I don't feel like falling out of bed tonight!

WPTunes

It is so quiet without the sublight engines. There's the usual hum of a well-maintained ventilation and life support system, but the FTL drives don't add the basso hum. Everyone is asleep in their quarters except Lourdes, who has a cot in engineering and alerts set loud enough to wake her at the slightest deviation from optimal performance.

You know that, when you next enter the common area, it will be decorated only with your memories of that dinner, and your next meal is likely to be the same reconstituted nutritious "food" as your lunch the previous day.

But for now, the Stalker Jane slumbers in the Gray and like her, you are neither here nor there.

--END SCENE--