Chapter 13

“Body functions appear nominal,” Doctor Cairns noted. “And you’re sure you feel no adverse effects? Dizziness, nausea?”

“I feel as normal as a Cashi in the sand,” Mezul said, the humans looking at her quizzically. “Sorry. It’s an animal from my homeworld. Means I’m fine.”

“Can we proceed with Shaliyya’s operation?” Captain Anders asked. He’d returned as soon as Cairns informed him of Mezul’s fluent English, and the two had spoken at length about the Kith going next.

“Captain, I wish I could share your enthusiasm,” Cairns began. “but what if there are long-term effects we are not yet aware of?

Machine and alien flesh could have disastrous results we won’t be aware of until years from now. If we broaden our tests to more than one individual, we’d be putting another life at risk.”

“I understand your hesitance Doctor, but Mezul tells me Shaliyya is their leader, their Kith. As Captain it is my duty to speak with her.”

“Perhaps Mezul could play the intermediary?” Cairns suggested. “Translate for the one called Shaliyya?”

“My Kith wishes to be as direct as possible with your leader,” Mezul replied, her hands clasped over her stomach. “She is worried I may mistranslate, and would rather appeal to your Captain through her own words.”

Lambert perked up at the word appeal, wondering why simply acting as the translator was such a big deal to the aliens.

“I concur,” Anders replied. “if there’s even a chance we can avoid mistranslation, we should take it. I’d rather things didn’t end up the same way it did with us and the Suvelians.”

Doctor Cairns sighed, clearly not convinced but knowing she couldn’t persuade them. “Very well Captain, I’ll prepare the lab.”

She and the Kith moved into the surgery theatre, followed by the guard who shouldered their strange rifle as they followed.

Lambert guessed they didn’t want the Kith left unguarded at any time.

“I’ll leave the Balokarids in your hands while Cairns is away, Lieutenant,” Captain Anders said. “Since you brought them here in the first place, you’re as responsible for their safety as I am.”

Lambert asked if he could show them around, and after considering the Captain nodded. “As long as you accompany them at all times, and keep them on this deck. If anything happens I’ll hold you accountable, Lieutenant.”

“Understood sir.”

“Excellent. Return them here once Shaliyya is up and about.”

Lambert nodded, the Captain turning away, the medical bay door sliding shut automatically behind him. That left just Ruvaara, Mezul and Lambert together. The scientists seemed comfortable staying with all the medical equipment, so Lambert left them alone, grinning at the two aliens.

“Well ladies, who’s hungry?”

He led them through the synthetic halls of the ship, groups of engineers and soldiers walking back and forth, giving the aliens friendly, if curious glances as they moved through the ship.

“Ship inside no,” the alien called Ruvaara said, Lambert giving her a questioning glance.

“She means your ship interiors are curiously designed,” Mezul explained, the contrast between her smooth voice and Ruvaara’s broken one a striking difference.

“How so?” Lambert asked, leading them down the left branch at an intersection.

“Everything is so ... level,” Mezul replied. “Sharp turns everywhere, no difference in height at any point, everything looks the same. We would be quite lost without you guiding us.”

“Your ships were the confusing ones. All those slopes and turns, nothing was even or symmetrical, I couldn’t make much sense of anything.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t to an alien,” Mezul wondered. “Designing vehicles not built for the ground is a new and vexing problem for my people. We’ve only been spacefaring for a few dozen orbits.”

He didn’t know how long an orbit was, but he guessed as much that the Balokarids were new to space exploration, relative to humanity, that was.

There were coloured lines painted along the walls, each one labelled as to where they led and branching off the many different side passages. Lambert followed the green line, ushering the aliens to the side as a pair of guards marched past, their heavy armour clunking loudly. The aliens watched their black, combat-armoured forms stomp by, even the disciplined soldiers unable to stop themselves from gawking.

“Lambert boots no,” Ruvaara said as they got going. “Human boots no.”

“I haven’t turned my mag-boots on, no,” he said. “Lambert stand how?” she asked. “Ruvaara stand how?”

That’s right, she was probably wondering how they were all walking around without magnetic boots on. “That’s cause our gravity drives are on. See, the inside of the ship is built kind of like a skyscraper. Do you know what that is?”

“A tall building?” Mezul wondered.

“Right. So the inside of the Gallipoli is built like that, just flipped onto its side. The reactors gently spin the whole thing round and round and create centrifugal force. You remember that big rumble when we first boarded? That was the drives turning back on. We leave them off when a ship docks so it’s easier for us to line up. We’ve got lockers full of boots and emergency straps in every room so we won’t be caught without our boots on if the drives have to switch off.”

With the help of Mezul to translate, Ruvaara got the idea, and to say the aliens were amazed would be an understatement. “How can a rotating radius create gravity?” Mezul asked. “How did you discover this?”

“Well I didn’t, someone else did hundreds and hundreds of years ago. Our own little way of creating artificial gravity, at least until someone figures out a better way.”

“Humans are so advanced,” Mezul muttered. “Your ships, so compact and efficient, your technology ... your worlds must look amazing.”

They arrived at the mess hall before very long, the square- shaped interior packed with a hundred tables and an equal amount of people, easily the biggest space on the whole ship except for the repair hangar, the rumble of conversation overwhelming as they entered. The kitchen was built along one side, Lambert leading the aliens over to the counter.

“Hey Mack,” Lambert greeted, leaning on the glass display case and giving the chef a nod. “what’s the special?”

“Bacon and eggs, same old same old,” the man replied, wiping his hands on his apron. He did a double take when the Balokarids walked up on Lambert’s flanks, the gentle sizzling of meat catching their combined attention. “Oh shit, these are the aliens?” Mack asked. “I mean, obviously they are but ... still. Woah.”

“That’s Mezul, and this is Ruvaara.” Lambert pointed a thumb at each one in turn. “Mack’s in charge of rationing out our meals,” he explained to them.

“It is nice to meet you, cook,” Mezul said, nodding politely.

The man hadn’t been expecting Mezul to talk, his jaw almost hitting the floor in astonishment. “I-I-It’s ... nice to meet you, too. Mezul? Huh. Well, uh ... what’ll it be?” He directed his question to Lambert.

Chastising himself for just realising he had no idea whether they could eat human food, Lambert turned to his alien companions. “Do Balokarids eat meat? I don’t know if our food might be dangerous to you.”

“We are omnivores,” Mezul explained. “and we have a way of telling if something is safe to consume.”

“Oh, good. I’ll, uhm, get you a sample then,” Mack said, hurrying over to one of the other cooks tending to a stove. He returned with a cut of meat, placing it on a plate and sliding it over the counter, Lambert offering it to Mezul. “It’s pork,” Lambert explained. “comes from a pink animal native to Earth. Do you have a scanner or something you can-”

After taking a curious sniff, Mezul devoured the whole thing in two bites. She snapped her beak like one would smack their lips after a tasty dish, a noticeable bulge sliding down her throat. “Tastes ... funky, if that is the right word. You should try some, Ruvaara.”