by C. V. Walter
When she took one out that had been put in upside down, her heart leapt in excitement. There were instructions on the bottom. Since she'd actually seen him prepare one, she could get a decent idea of what the instructions were referring to. She could make lunch, at least, if she was awake for it. Armed with that knowledge, she turned to the other doors in the room.
The kitchen in her first apartment had been about the same size. Enough room for one person to move around comfortably as long as they were aware of where they were stepping so as not to hit a door knob or drawer handle with a thigh. It had been laid out similarly, as well, she thought. The storage for the ship rations was about where the refrigerator had been. There was a cabinet next to it that she opened to find what she assumed were spices and foods that didn't need special storage.
The next one she opened to find metal and ceramic with instructions just inside the door. She recognized some of the symbols indicating yes and no and it gave her some idea of what it was for. A space ship version of a mix between an oven and a microwave, she guessed, though it was definitely for the preparation of food that wasn't in the rations boxes.
Next to the food preparation thing was a wall of cabinets that were only slightly inconvenient if you had to open them while working at the stove. It held cups and plates in the upper ones and heavier pots, pans and bowls in the bottom ones. There were some half-full bottles of liquids on the very top shelf, high enough she'd need to find a step stool to get to them but which she suspected were just at the top of Mintonar's comfortable range to reach.
The counter behind her was just a counter, as far as she could tell, though there was a depression that looked like it was shaped for two fingers. Biting her lip, she thought about it then put two of the fingers from her left hand in it. Part of the counter separated from the rest and lifted, going as far back as she pushed it with her fingers. It revealed what had to be a sink, complete with running water once she put her hands under the faucet.
"Oh, goody," she said and went to grab her bowl from the table. When she got there, the screen wasn't blank anymore. She could see Mintonar bent over a desk, reading something.
"Mintonar?" she asked, confused.
He looked up and smiled at her. "Maw-lee, I see that you have figured out how to use my desk. That is excellent. I am told Captain Cretus attempted to contact me there and made your acquaintance."
"That was the captain?" Her eyes widened in surprise then she looked down at the pajamas she was wearing. They belonged to Mintonar and were far too big to be flattering on her, though she loved the thought that they'd been on his body and were now holding her.
"Yes, he said he interrupted your breakfast and wanted to apologize for doing so."
"Um, right, I was eating, wasn't I? I was just trying to figure out how to do the dishes. Did you take something with you for lunch?"
His smile widened. "I had intended to show you how all the things worked before I left but it slipped my mind. There is food in my office and I am not far from the mess if I want to eat something fresh when it comes time for that."
"Do you always eat at your desk? Cause that's probably not a great idea for work-life balance."
"I will occasionally be dragged out of my office by colleagues," he told her. "Do not worry over much about my work habits. I'm far more inclined to socialize when necessary than might have been indicated over the last few days."
"Alright," she said. "Did you need something? I don't think I made the table call you."
"I called you this time. As it has been suggested that you might need to learn how to speak my language in addition to being able to understand it being spoken, I was asked to give you some kind of learning program. It's been loaded to the table in front of you but I need to walk you through using it. Are you willing to do that today?"
Molly nodded, stunned that he was asking her permission to teach her something. "Of course. I'm assuming it has to be done at the table? Will I be able to get up and walk around while the program is running or does it have to be done all at once."
"It's," he started then grinned. "I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by how intuitive it is, once you get started. Are you ready?"
She sat at the table and pulled the chair closer. "I'm ready."
He walked her through finding the program and starting it, mentioning the process was similar on the padd once she'd set up the program on the table if she wanted to move to a different position while she was using it. By the time he was finished walking her through setting it up, she was glaring at him in suspicion.
With a smile and a wish for luck, he ended the call. She started the program and figured out why very quickly. Somebody had loaded bad text translations into a children's reading program. In their defense, she thought to herself, they can't know that the text translations are that bad, can they? I'm the only person on board who reads in an alien language.
Biting back her curses at the people who wouldn't be able to hear them anyway, she started following the program. It would read to her in its original language and she could sound out the words as she attempted to follow along. While it started with the strange alphabet, she was a quick study and had gotten to basic, one syllable words by the time she was nodding off in the chair.
Looking around for a clock, she realized she hadn't ever seen anything that could be doing anything so mundane as keeping time. Then again, she thought, there weren't a lot of clocks on the space station, either. They were either part of the display on her suit or her wrist comm, which had a docking port on the suit that could integrate all its functions into the heads-up display.
Thinking about the wrist comm made her look down at her hands and really see them for the first time. They were strong hands, she thought, with long fingers that had gone from doing nothing more strenuous than typing with fake nails to wrestling pieces of metal into place on a space station. She frowned when she looked closer. The scar tissue on a couple of her knuckles, earned the first week of high school by punching the side of the building on accident, was gone. As was the scar from where she'd lost a chunk of skin slicing cucumbers and not paying attention.
Brows furrowed in concern, she walked to the facilities and pulled down the front of her pajama bottoms to check for her c-section scar in the mirror. It was gone.
She stalked to the table and called Mintonar. He answered with a smile, something clever obviously on his lips.
"My scars are gone," she told him.
Whatever he had been about to say died on his lips. "Yes, your scars are gone," he said. "I told you, the bio-nanos were hard at work fixing breaks and removing scar tissue. Were any of them of any personal significance? Part of a ritual that needs to be back for cultural purposes?"
"No," she said slowly. "At least, not that way. They were all important to me in some way but not really like that. Marks of things I'd lived through, trials that came out better than I could have hoped. That kind of thing."
"I'm sorry if you would have preferred if they remained, Maw-lee," he said, his look understanding.
"No, it's fine," she told him, something in the back of her mind still troubling her. "I just didn't realize you meant imperfections on my skin as well as on the insides. It feels weird to know they can change parts of my appearance."
"But they can never change who you are," he told her. "All the things you learned, the things you lived through, are still a part of you even if the marks of their passing are removed from your skin."
"That's a really good point," she said. "Thank you."
"You look tired," Mintonar said. "I will be a while longer, why don't you get some sleep and I will wake you with food when I get home."
"Alright," she said with a smile. Love you, almost fell from her lips but she stopped herself just in time.
She didn't love him, she told herself. She couldn't possibly. It was Florence Nightingale syndrome, if anything. Well, that, and amazing sex. She couldn't actually love him.
Chapter 24
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Mintonar returned to his suite with food in hand and found Maw-lee asleep in his bed. He was later returning than he'd hoped and had brought one of the desserts the people in his territory on his home planet were known for. The fact that most of the rest of the planet considered it a delicacy to be served at joining ceremonies wasn't something he was going to tell her.
There was a lot of food from his territory on the ship. It had been part of his payment to get aboard and he'd felt no compunction raiding the warehouses he owned partial shares in to provision the expedition. It was a onetime looting of storage units that were routinely over-filled during harvests so they could control supply, for a price, of the traditional foods necessary for a legal joining. Wild tarro, while exceedingly rare everywhere else and difficult to breed in captivity, were considered a pest in the lands where he'd grown up. They could send a dozen to every family on the continent and a half-dozen to the all the families on the rest of the planet, and still have more than enough to keep supplying them.
It was the Emperor who had declared them a delicacy and ordered them to be part of the celebrations required to mark a legal joining. When people had contacted the meat brokers in his territories, they'd been given the prices they'd be given for buying other nuisance animals. Many families were pleasantly surprised by the prices and had no problems ordering what they wanted. Others were unhappy at the price, convinced they were being given an inferior product, and shopped around until they found someone willing to charge more.
The whole thing had created a strange market around the pests and his family had found a way to profit off the whole thing by creating different places to get the wild tarro from that varied based on price. The most expensive ones were always in the most demand but the storage facilities for those had to be shown as less full than the cheapest ones so there were backup storage facilities to fill from. It wouldn't have worked if they didn't have the ability to preserve the meat indefinitely with no loss of quality but as it was, the storage units were always close to overflowing with meat to the point where they'd have to turn it away for lack of space.
He'd been doing them a favor, really, and he'd sent some money to cover paying for the extra that would have to be paid for that year. It was his absence on the planet that was going to cause his family the most problems and, while he regretted the problems, he didn't regret the absence. The Emperor's increasingly oppressive requirements for everything had begun to weigh on the people but it had been the last one that had driven him, and everybody else on the ship, away from his home world.
The Orvax were having fertility problems. There were a lot of theories as to why but the weakening of recognition seemed to be part of it. People his age longed for the connections their grandparents had and there were legends of great love started by recognition that not only worked on the physical but the spiritual plane, as well. Instead, they had matchmaking parties thrown by hopeful parents to encourage some spark between families that would create better political or financial alliances.
At least, those in his social circle did. They'd been given permission from the crown to search for their spark amongst their peers. Those as far removed from his class as his cousin had been, the brief description Bow-sie had given had been enough, were assigned a match. Recognition had been dismissed as so much superstition and a scientific method of solving their planet's fertility problems had been enforced.
The algorithm took into account not only genetic compatibility but also social and economic backgrounds. No more would a chance meeting between a beggar and a Prince of the Blood put an unsuitable creature near the throne. No more shop-girls mated to the sons of nobility, strong stable lads to the daughters of diplomats. Instead, everybody would mate with who they were assigned.
Except, of course, the upper houses of the nobility. Who had just had removed from them ninety-nine percent of their possible matches. Forced to choose among themselves for their future mates, even the most ostracized were sought after, including one of them who had the bad taste to go into a profession rather than manage his family’s lands.
Mintonar had gotten very good at hiding his reaction to a spark of recognition. They were only ever a brief tingle on his fingertips when greeting a female his mother insisted on introducing him to so it was barely a struggle. He couldn't have hidden his reaction to Maw-lee if he'd wanted to, and not just because he had been so surprised by it. He'd felt it in his soul.
He worried about her insistence on going home. She'd been subtle about it but he could tell she was planning on leaving at some point, probably soon. And, despite conversations to the contrary, the Captain wouldn't force her to stay. He would probably try to convince her that he would, though, and that thought warmed Mintonar. It wasn't just him who would be working on his Maw-lee's affections.
He'd set out dinner on the table and was just turning to go wake Maw-lee when he heard her shuffling about in the bedroom. He got to the door just in time to see her shuffle into the bathroom, her movements stiff as she ran her hands through her mass of tangled hair. His pajama bottoms hung low on her hips and the strip of flesh they showed was enough to make his mouth water. When she emerged, her face pink from being washed, the sleepy expression on her face had disappeared for her wide-awake and interested one.
"Did you have a good nap?" he asked, leaning down for a kiss. It was gratifying when she turned into him and made what he'd intended to be a quick peck of affection into a kiss to set his blood on fire. They were both gasping when he let her pull back and she smiled.
"I did. Did you have a good day at work?"
"A productive day," he said. "And I brought dinner again. Along with an apology for being so late getting home." When he gestured at the dessert, she went to inspect it, doing her best not to disturb it while she tried to figure out what it was.
"Dessert?" She asked, curling her fingers to keep from touching it.
"Indeed, a delicacy from my home that I thought you might like."
"All these delicacies," she said with a laugh. "I'm beginning to feel spoiled. Like a pampered pet."
Mintonar couldn't help but stroke his hands through her hair. "I like pampering you. There's little enough on the ship I can use to do so and these things are mine so why shouldn't I lavish them on you?"
She leaned into his petting and made an appreciative hum. "Quite right. It makes our time together feel special."
The implication of her words hit him in the gut. She was still treating their union like it was temporary. And why shouldn't she? According to her, even joining on her world could be dissolved, and she'd done so before. Even after having offspring. He'd just have to convince her she wanted to stay. And if that didn't work, well, he'd find something else.
"All my time with you feels special," he told her. He gripped her hair and turned her face towards him, using his grip to hold her still. Her breath caught and her cheeks flushed and he knew he had her attention. He bent and kissed her, softly at first, until he couldn't help but wrap her in his arms and lift her so she could wrap her legs around his waist.
"Why does it always feel like this with you?" she leaned back to gasp. Her kiss cut off his reply which was good because he didn't have much of one to give her.
His comm buzzed, breaking his concentration and reminding him they didn't have much time to indulge that night. He pulled back a bit and stroked her hair, resting his forehead against hers. "We don't have time to dally right now," he said. "I must feed you before our company arrives."
"Company?" she asked, her entire body perking up with interest. "We're having company?"
"Yes," Mintonar said, sliding her down his body until her feet rested solidly on the floor again. It was an exquisite torture to feel her against every part that ached for her and know he couldn't touch her for hours yet.
"Who is it? I'm assuming it's safe for them to visit, right? You've got everything in order so they won't be in danger around me?"
"It's Alvola, he was the first to get h
is nano's updated and since he's not able to bring you to the lab, he's going to bring the important parts here for you to identify."
"Why can't I go to the lab?" she asked, and flushed from the look he gave her. "Right, top secret or whatever, and I'd probably contaminate it. I knew that. I was just making sure you did."
"Ah, good for you making sure," Mintonar said with a smile. "Would you like to eat something before our company arrives?"
"He's not joining us for dinner?"
"No, it would not be..." he searched for the words. "It would not be appropriate for him to join us right now. It's stretching the bounds as it is having him visit so late at night but I did not think you would object too strenuously."
"Of course not," Maw-lee said. "But, why is it not appropriate for him to join us for dinner? What am I missing?"
"Oh, traditions about guests and strangers. It's not important right now, just that he would feel like he was imposing, and tradition would say he would be, no matter how welcome that imposition is."
"Alright," she nodded. "I won't pry if it's cultural and I'd hate to make him uncomfortable so let's eat so he can come over without guilt."
Maw-lee sat and Mintonar served her from the main dish. He explained what each thing was as he put it in front of her, though failed to mention why each dish was important. It didn't matter, he reminded himself. He'd joined the ship to break with tradition, it shouldn't matter that he was feeding her traditional Joining foods. Nor that her enjoyment of them would mean a long and happy pairing, according to ancient superstition.
If they were following traditions, she'd be bringing him plants or an animal she raised with her own hands to prove she was fruitful. She has a son, he reminded himself. She's already proven she's fruitful.
The thought of her child still made him uncomfortable. She was so young to have a child that had already reached adulthood. He should ask about that, he suspected, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to his questions. Anyway, he shouldn't ask tonight. There was too much to do and he wanted to do it when they had enough time to go over the answers. They both had expectations informed by their cultures and he needed to make sure he knew what hers were. He thought he knew but he wanted the battle lines laid out clearly.
