by Cari Z.
Jason stopped at the door, astonished by the transformation. The elegant tables, normally spaced well apart, had been clustered together in the center of the room. The Perels were, for lack of a better word, holding court, and every single person there was in their thrall. Each of the twins was in someone’s lap, and people were laughing and generally being far more relaxed than the formal dining room was accustomed to. The third Perel, Ferran, was standing and speaking with Florence, but as soon as he saw Jason, his attention shifted. He excused himself and moved toward Jason. Florence threw him an amused look that made him want to shout at her, but now wasn’t the time for emoting.
“Good evening, sir,” the Perel said, his tone warm and inviting. Very inviting…. Jason ruthlessly shifted his brain back into captain mode.
“Good evening.”
The Perel held out his hand and Jason shook it briefly, resisting the gentle slide of fingers against his wrist.
“It’s Ferran, yes?” As if you didn’t already know.
“Yes, Captain,” Ferran said with a smile. He paused for a moment, as though expecting a first name back, but Jason didn’t say anything else. “Will you join me for dinner?”
“It looks as though there isn’t any other choice,” Jason said with a glance at the conglomeration of tables. One of the twins was doing some sort of contortion now, in another passenger’s lap, and everyone seemed to be enjoying it.
“We could pull something aside for ourselves,” Ferran offered. “I would prefer it.” Huge amber eyes gazed at Jason, apparently finding him… finding him what, exactly? Whatever the Perel was seeing, he seemed to be fascinated.
“Fine,” Jason found himself agreeing. “I’ll speak to the staff.”
“I can do that,” Ferran said quickly. “There are several with the main group now.” Sure enough, his diligent wait staff was as taken with the impromptu show as everyone else was. Jason sighed internally. Discipline always suffered when Perels were on board. Ferran slipped away, and Jason quickly walked over to where his first officer was sipping a glass of champagne.
“Did you know this was happening?”
“Just because it’s happened every night out so far didn’t necessarily mean tonight was going to be the same,” Florence said primly.
“I don’t appreciate being set up.”
“I’m setting you up for fun!” she encouraged. “Ferran is a great conversationalist. You might enjoy yourself. If you don’t, you can leave. One of the perks of being the captain.” She leaned in a little closer. “He really wants to know more about you. He’s asked me about you every evening since he boarded.”
“Why?”
Florence was saved from having to answer by the return of the person in question. Ferran didn’t touch Jason, although from the way he extended his hand toward him, he seemed to want to. Instead, he turned to indicate the table beside the wall, about twenty feet away from the other diners. Jason accepted the invitation and joined him at the table, where a waiter who wouldn’t quite meet his captain’s eyes poured them fresh glasses of water. Jason picked his up and sipped a little, watching Ferran do the same. “No champagne for you?”
“I’ve had a glass,” the Perel explained. “My cousins are fonder of it than I am. But you, Captain, would you care for some?”
“I’ll be back on shift in an hour. I don’t want any alcohol in my system.”
“One hour?” Ferran seemed disappointed. “You can spare no more time?”
“One hour should be sufficient for dinner,” Jason said. He felt like an asshole when he saw his companion’s face fall further. “But please, call me Jason while I’m off duty.”
“Jason.” Ferran immediately brightened. “Thank you for your name.”
“My pleasure,” he replied, trying not to stare too openly into his companion’s eyes. He looked over at the waiter. “Whatever Elise has fresh is fine.”
“Another of the dinner salads, please,” Ferran requested.
The third wheel vanished, and Jason was left in semialoneness with the Perel. Fortunately, he wasn’t expected to start the conversation.
“You are very reserved.”
Jason set his water glass down with a thump. “Only by comparison.” Ouch, harsh, he thought with an inward wince.
Ferran didn’t seem bothered, however. “Yes,” he agreed. “More dignified. More… aloof. We are not accustomed to aloof.”
“I can’t imagine you would be.”
Ferran shrugged elegantly. “We are empaths. If the surrounding mood isn’t comfortable for us, then we do our best to adapt it to better suit our needs.”
“Is that what you’re doing with me?” Jason asked, his jaw tight. He really didn’t need to be some Perel’s pet project right now.
“No,” Ferran said quietly. “The Silver Star is large enough that we could avoid your presence if we wished, and you seem inclined towards privacy. You are not uncomfortable, Jason. You’re just different. Your emotions run very deep. I find you quite interesting.” He tilted his head slightly. “You do not care for us, however.”
“It’s not you specifically,” Jason assured him, flushing slightly at being called on his attitude. “I’ve never really known a Perel before.” Damned if that statement didn’t have a double meaning too.
“Most humans seek us out. We are considered enjoyable company.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“I would be more than happy to better acquaint you with our ways.”
“I’m not interested in sex,” Jason said bluntly. Ferran’s ears flattened a little.
“We are more than our sexuality, Captain,” he replied, a little less fluidly than before. “I would never presume to ask for more than you wish to give. I simply thought you might find our culture interesting. Most humans never bother to inquire.”
Ah. That’s what jumping to conclusions gets me. “Excuse me. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Oh, what the hell. “I’d be very interested to learn more about your culture.”
Ferran smiled, his ears perking back up and the quills along his head settling to softness again. “Do you have any specific questions?”
Now that he thought about it, Jason did. “What is the climate like on your world?” Perels didn’t seem overly fond of clothing.
“It varies depending on the region, but overall warm and moist,” Ferran said. Their plates arrived: Ferran’s small with a colorful display of fresh vegetables and a delicate citrus dressing, and Jason’s with a filet of what looked like salmon, but probably wasn’t, given their distance from the home system. There was a salad for him as well, and a small side of long-grained rice. It was a meal reminiscent of home, and Jason found himself enjoying it.
Much to his surprise, he enjoyed the company even more. Florence was right; Ferran was an excellent conversationalist. He moved easily from topic to topic, answering Jason’s questions about Perelan fully, but not going overboard, and asking his own questions about Jason’s home. Before he knew it, he found himself describing the Jacksonville colony and his family’s home there.
“It’s a challenging place to live,” he admitted, “with the storms and the rapid shifts in temperature. The entire planet is closed to further development, mostly because homesteaders don’t take the warnings seriously enough and settle in places that can’t be tamed. Jacksonville and Buquetti are the only colonies of any size left, and more people choose to leave than stay.”
“Do you miss your family?”
“I’m the last member of my family to live there,” Jason said. “We were among the original colonizers, but after the first few generations, most of them chose to move on. My parents died long ago, and I am their only child. I don’t spend as much time in the house there as I’d like to.”
“Tell me about your home,” Ferran requested softly. Jason opened his mouth to begin, but then his chrono chimed.
“Oh.” Time had completely gotten away from him. “Excuse me. I have to be on the bridge in five minutes. Thank you for
dining with me.” He folded his napkin precisely and pushed his chair back.
Ferran stood with him. “Will you join me tomorrow evening?” he asked.
“I had planned on eating in tomorrow.” Jason saw the sparkle in Ferran’s amber eyes dull a little and shocked the hell out of himself by continuing, “Would you care to dine with me?”
“I would be very pleased to join you,” Ferran said, his lips curving into a sweet smile.
“I’ll send a crew member to escort you. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Jason turned and walked away, wondering what he was getting himself into by inviting a Perel to his rooms. Probably nothing more than a comfortable evening together. He had no doubt now that it would be comfortable, and perhaps another presence would help to exorcise some of the bad memories he had of his own space.
He wouldn’t tell Florence about it, though. Her head was big enough as it was.
JASON WAS sure the following morning that Florence knew exactly what was going on, but she graciously spared him the third degree and focused on running the cruiser instead. They were five days out from Ishtar but had plenty to do: managing ship functions, overseeing the health and well-being of their passengers, and keeping an eye on their course. Cruisers like this practically flew themselves, but unexpected gravity waves could shift the most meticulous plans, and Jason thoroughly rechecked their course every shift.
The only indication Florence gave that she knew about her captain’s dinner guest was a cheerful “Enjoy your evening!” as she took over for him on the bridge. The closest Jason came to commending her for being a busybody was his quiet “Thank you” before leaving. As he reached his rooms, he paged Kayle and asked him to send an escort for Ferran.
“Certainly, Captain.” All of Kayle’s voices registered satisfaction. For the first time, Jason wondered how concerned his closest crewmembers had been about him that they were suddenly all smug over a simple dinner invitation. He took off his jacket and stood uncertainly outside his bedroom door, wondering if the occasion called for changing into more casual clothes. Jason eventually decided against it. He didn’t want to seem too welcoming. On the other hand….
Jason realized what he was doing and frowned. This was not a date. There was no reason for him to change, or for him to be hesitant over what to wear, or for him to be nervous at all. This evening was nothing more than cultural exchange, the chance for him to learn more about an alien race. When he was in the fleet, he’d loved having the opportunities to visit new worlds and new peoples. The war had changed that, though, and now he was content to run his routes and return to his isolated home whenever he could. That sort of reclusive life hadn’t appealed to Blake for long, although he’d hidden it well. Still, Jason should have seen it coming. He should have seen more.
Jason left his formal shirt on, undoing the top button and pushing the sleeves a little ways up his arms. The kimchi was ready to go. He’d had it fermenting for a while and didn’t want to stain the shirt. Apart from that, he’d prepared japchae, a noodle and vegetable dish that could be eaten cold, and there was hot water for tea. After a moment’s consideration, Jason brought out his celadon-glazed cups instead of mugs. He set them on the formal dining table, considered the lonely effect, and then moved the cups and plates to the bar separating his kitchen from the living room instead. There were stools to sit on; it was formal enough. He slipped a reed place mat under each plate, and then consciously made himself stop fussing. Ferran would arrive any minute now.
The door chimed, and Jason felt himself relax a little. He walked over, and the door slid open, revealing Ferran and a concierge. “Thank you, Nori.”
“My pleasure, sir,” the concierge replied, and then he was off down the hall.
Jason stepped back and motioned the Perel inside. His guest was dressed in a warm brown color, the fabric close and clinging like a jumpsuit would, but made from a far finer material. The neckline was high, but Jason could see that Ferran’s back was still bare. The quills seemed more sharply delineated that evening, less feathery and soft than before. He wondered about the body language of a Perel, and how close it was to a human’s. Was Ferran nervous? Jason felt his underused abilities as a host reappearing. “Thank you for coming.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” Ferran said just as formally.
Jason berated himself as a poor purveyor of small talk and tried again. “Are your cousins taken care of for the evening?”
“They undoubtedly will be,” Ferran assured him. “Your staff has been most attentive, and Neyarr and Garrell have made many friends here.”
Jason was a little curious as to whether “friend,” in this context, was a synonym for lover, but after his faux pas the night before, he didn’t feel comfortable asking. “I’m glad they’re enjoying themselves.” He motioned toward the kitchen. “The table felt too big for only two. Do you mind eating at the counter?”
“Not at all.” Ferran walked beside him to the other room, his lively eyes taking in all of his surroundings. “Your quarters are very elegant.”
Jason smiled. “Are you sure you don’t mean sparse?”
“Not at all. The openness makes one feel welcome, freer to move than in a place with clutter. The furnishings are simple, but very well-made.” He sat down on the stool at the counter and placed his hands on the blue-veined marble, smoothing over it lightly. “It suits you very well.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jason retrieved the hot water and poured it into the teapot. “Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please.” Ferran’s gaze fell on the plates of colorful kimchi. “Is this what we’re having for dinner?”
“Part of it.” Jason brought the plates over to the counter and sat down next to Ferran. “I was wondering, are you vegetarian?”
“That means I don’t eat meat?” Ferran waited for Jason’s nod. “No, although I rarely choose to eat animals. Did you make this vegetarian for me?”
“When I make kimchi, I usually prepare it without meat, but the rest of the meal is vegetarian as well, just in case,” Jason said. Ferran’s quills perked a little bit, and he smiled at the admission. “It is spicy, though.”
“That’s all right. Is this a popular food for humans?”
“For some humans. My ancestors came from Korea, and kimchi has been prepared there for thousands of years.”
Ferran took a small bite, just enough to taste. He smiled suddenly. “It’s sweet!”
“It’s not always prepared sweet, but I like it that way.”
“I like it too.” He took another bite. “Tell me more about Korea.”
“Oh no,” Jason refused, lightening his refusal with a smile of his own. “I want to learn more about Perelan. There’s very little information about your home world on the register. Fewer than a dozen Terrans have been allowed to visit your planet since we first made contact almost a century ago. The only times we ever see you are at the trading station in orbit or when Perels like you and your cousins leave to sightsee. By all accounts, you’re a very passionate people.”
“You’re very diplomatic,” Ferran said. “It’s true—when we get the chance to travel, we’re often… overzealous, especially at first. But you must understand, Perelan is a highly insular society. There aren’t many of us—fewer than a million now—and males outnumber females five to one.” He paused to take a bite while Jason poured the tea. “We were a patriarchal society until our civil war, almost a millennium ago. Over 80 percent of our population was destroyed, and our scientists were very… uninhibited with their biological attacks. Of those who survived, over half were left sterile. Genetic manipulation since then has improved the situation somewhat, but not much. We are now ruled by a council of matriarchs, and by law, all Perels who are capable of reproducing are kept on Perelan.”
Jason frowned slightly. “Does this mean….”
“Yes, Captain. I’m sterile. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”
Judging from Ferran’s tone of voice and f
ormality, Jason guessed he’d struck a nerve. “You’re my guest this evening, Ferran. Please, call me Jason.” That got him another small smile. “Have you enjoyed your time away from home?”
“Immensely!” The Perel’s tone and ears perked right up, and his quills seemed to soften. “There’s far too much to see, though. It was so hard to choose.”
“How long have you and your cousins been traveling?”
“Nearly one of your standard Terran years.”
“Where have you visited?”
“Many fascinating places.” Ferran began to describe their trip, starting with the departure from Perelan, and Jason felt mildly smug at putting his guest at ease. Ferran was interesting to listen to, his descriptions fresh and open. Perels who went off-planet were generally catered to, as they gave very freely of themselves and their money. Jason was glad to hear that Ferran hadn’t had any truly bad experiences.
The empty kimchi plates were exchanged for the japchae, and more tea was poured. Ferran ate with a good appetite and complimented Jason on his cooking. They compared notes on the places that both of them had visited, and after several hours, Jason had moved them down to his much-neglected, but very comfortable, couch for dessert, which consisted of small cups of chocolate mousse.
Ferran devoured his helping as politely as possible and scraped the cup thoroughly. “I like sweets,” he sheepishly explained.
“Next time, I’ll make more,” Jason said.
“Next time?” Ferran’s ears perked again, and his eyes widened farther.
“If you’re interested,” Jason amended, slightly surprised at himself.
“Very much,” Ferran assured him. “You’re wonderful company.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“Everyone seems to think so. Your crew speaks very highly of you.”
