The Galactic Gourmet

by James White

  "...So you can see," Braithwaite ended apologetically, "that any information that we can give you will be incomplete."

  "But helpful," said Gurronsevas. "Especially if you will agree to keep me informed regarding the Chief Psychologist's words and reactions during and subsequent to the consumption of its meals. For the reasons already explained, I would be most grateful if your observation were of a covert nature and any behavioral changes, no matter how small, associated with the menu modifications I shall be making, were relayed to me without delay."

  "How long is the project likely to last?" asked Braithwaite. "A month? Indefinitely?"

  "Oh, no," he replied firmly. "There are over sixty different food-consuming life-forms in the hospital requiring my attention. Ten, or at most fifteen days."

  "Very well," said the Lieutenant, nodding. "The observation of minor changes in personality or behavior, which can sometimes be an early indication of a major psychological problem develop­ing, is what we in this department are trained to do. Is there any­thing else we can do for you?"

  "Thank you, no," said Gurronsevas.

  As he was turning to leave, Lioren said, "Speaking of per­sonality changes, we are hearing rumors about Charge Nurse Hredlichli. Over the past few days it has been behaving very oddly, showing sympathy and consideration for its junior ward staff and showing early signs of becoming almost a likable personality. Had your PVSJ menu changes anything to do with that, Chief Dietitian?"

  They were all making the quiet, untranslatable sounds which indicated that the question was not a serious one. Gurronsevas laughed softly in return.

  "I hope so," he said. "But I cannot guarantee a similar result with Major O'Mara."

  With the small part of his mind that was not concentrating on collision avoidance in the busy corridors between Psychology and the level housing Food Synthesis Control, Gurronsevas thought about Hredlichli. He had spent much more time than he had in­tended on the PVSJ exercise, but that was because the chlorine-breather had wanted to talk more than eat, and he knew that, how­ever pleasantly, much of the time had been wasted. But in a few hours' time Hredlichli and himself would be ending this phase of professional contact, and he was almost sorry.

  He was not surprised to see Murchison and Timmins already there when he arrived. The pathologist waved a hand at him and said that it had deserted its department for the rest of the day be­cause this was where the action was. The words sounded like a shameful admission of professional negligence and irresponsibility, but he had learned not to take everything the pathologist said seriously.

  Because of Gurronsevas' anxiety in case anything went wrong, Timmins had been asked to advise on the Maintenance Department support regarding the final program changes that were going into the synthesizer serving the PVSJ dining compartment, and hence was too busy to notice his arrival or even the presence of Murchison. Food Technicians Dremon and Kledath were making it clear by the impatient ruffling of their fur that they did not require advice.

  Murchison moved closer to him and said briskly, "We com­pleted our analysis of the sample of protective film used on that item of furniture in the exercise lounge adjoining the chlorine-breathers' dining area. The material has already been passed as safe, and it still is, but the film applied to that particular exerciser contained a small quantity of foreign matter that was probably introduced acciden­tally during manufacture. When exposed to the ambient chlorine atmosphere over a long period the material dissolves out, releasing trace quantities of a gas which, although completely foreign to their environment and metabolism, is harmless to chlorine-breathers even in high concentrations. The Illensan in Pathology describes the odor as appetizing. That was a nice piece of observation and de­duction on your part."

  "Thank you," said Gurronsevas. "But most of the credit should go to Hredlichli. It was the Charge Nurse who pointed out to me in the first place that a number of its colleagues who used that piece of equipment before meals—apparently Illensans suffer digestive upsets if they exercise after meals—insisted that it helped them work up an appetite. When one is pointed in the right direction it is much easier to reach one's destination."

  "You are too modest," said Murchison. "But what are you planning to do next, and to whom?"

  Gurronsevas was thinking that this was the first time in his life that he had ever been accused of modesty, when Timmins, whose head had been bent over the control console display, turned to say, "I can't wait to hear the answer to that question, too."

  They were all watching him. Even the Kelgians were silent, their fur standing up in tight motionless tufts of curiosity. Gurronsevas knew that he would have to speak very carefully if he was to tell them what but not who.

  "The PVSJ was a challenging but almost theoretical exercise for me," he said, "in that it involved the preparation and presenta­tion of edible materials which I myself could not taste and which would have been instantly lethal had I tried. My next project will be more challenging but less dangerous to all concerned because, although the taste and presentation may be personally obnoxious, the food will not poison me or any other warm-blooded oxygen-breather.

  "The test subject this time will be an Earth-human DBDG," he went on, "a member of the species which makes up more than one-fifth of the hospital's medical and maintenance staff and whose food preferences, as I know from my long experience in the Cromingan-Shesk, are very difficult to satisfy. Subsequently I hope to deal with the Kelgian, Melfan and Nallajim species, although not necessarily in that order."

  The Kelgians' fur was eddying about their bodies with a mo­tion too irregular for Gurronsevas to read their feelings with accu­racy. Murchison was smiling and Timmins said quickly, "I would be pleased to volunteer, sir."

  "Lieutenant," said the pathologist firmly. "Join the end of the line."

  He was about to tell them that he no longer needed Earth-human volunteers when the lab communicator lit up with the image of Hredlichli. He saw at once that the Charge Nurse was call­ing from its private quarters because its features were clearly visi­ble rather than being softened by a pressure envelope.

  "Chief Dietitian," it said, "I would greatly appreciate having another progress report on your latest attempt to synthesize gree in yursil jelly, to which I was looking forward with great eagerness. The sample has not reached me. What happened to it?"

  Food Technician Liresschi happened to it, thought Gurronsevas. Aloud, he said, "Progress has been very good since we talked yes­terday. In fact, I have finalized for synthesis five additions to the PVSJ menu: two main courses, and the three other complementary or contrasting sauces that we devised for use with existing dishes. By main meal time tomorrow your Illensan friends will be able to test the results. But be sure to remind them that all of the dishes have been synthesized and that the characteristic, lifeless taste of synthesized food about which you have complained is disguised, not removed, by the new material.

  "One of the ingredients in the fryelli sauce does not occur naturally on your home world," he went on, "but Pathology assures me that it is metabolically harmless to you. Its appeal lies in the appetite-enhancing effect of the odor and appearance. The sauce itself is tasteless, but you will have difficulty in believing that any­thing that looks and smells so pleasant to you does not also taste good.

  "Where the gree is concerned," he continued, "the changes are minor and for the most part visual. The surface of the translucent yursil jelly contains small, irregular convolutions which, when the diner is leaning forward to eat or talk, make it appear that the em­bedded synthetic gree beetles are in motion and therefore still alive. The weight of visible evidence overwhelms the diner's taste sensors so that—"

  "No doubt it looks and tastes wonderful," Hredlichli broke in. "But what happened to the sample?"

  Choosing his words carefully, Gurronsevas said, "Because it was due shortly to go into production, I sent it to you by way of Food Technician Liresschi for synthesis scanning and additional taste evaluation. Lire
sschi gave the sample full approval, but said that there were subtleties of taste that required repeated sampling before it was entirely satisfied. Regrettably, there was insufficient sample remaining for it to be worth passing on to you. But I shall be pleased to send you another—"

  "But, but you said that the sample would be enough for four helpings!"

  "Yes," said Gurronsevas.

  "Food Technician Liresschi is a culinary barbarian," said Hredlichli angrily, "and a greedy slob!"

  "Yes," said Gurronsevas again.

  The charge nurse made a sound which did not translate, but before it could go on Gurronsevas said quickly, "I want to thank you for the help you have given me during our long talks together. Because of them, significant improvements have been made in the present Illensan menu, and in time more will follow. This project has therefore achieved its initial purpose and now I must begin an­other involving the dietary requirements of a different life-form. Again, Hredlichli, my thanks."

  For what seemed like a long time Hredlichli did not reply, and Gurronsevas wondered whether his words had been lacking sensi­tivity. Over the years the Illensans had earned the highest profes­sional respect but not the liking of their other-species medical col­leagues, due largely to the difficulty of making easy social contact with them or having those opportunities to air their mutual non-medical thoughts, opinions and complaints which the oxygen-breathing species took for granted. Rightly or wrongly, they felt themselves to be a small, underprivileged, chlorine-breathing minority to whom nobody listened, so that individually and as a group their disposi­tions had suffered. There had been a marked change in Hredlichli's manner towards him during his work on the Illensan menu im­provements, but whether that was due to him winning the Charge Nurse's heart through its stomach, or that the other had at last found someone who found what it had to say of value, or simply that it had made an other-species friend, Gurronsevas did not know.

  He wished suddenly that one of the Psychology staff, Padre Lioren preferably, had been there to tell him what he had said wrong, and how best to unsay it. Then suddenly Hredlichli spoke.

  "I may have a compliment as well as a complaint for you," it said hesitantly, "but I am not sure because, until recently, our ig­norance regarding the eating habits and formalities of warm­blooded oxygen-breathers was complete."

  Gurronsevas maintained a polite silence, and Hredlichli went on, "I have been discussing our work together with my Illensan friends and they are as pleased as I am about your menu changes. We have questioned the non-medical library computer and dis­covered that on Earth, which is one of the many worlds where the preparation and presentation of food has evolved into a major art form, there is a custom originating among a racial group called the French which appeals to us. At the end of a particularly pleasant meal the diners ask what they call the Chef du Cuisine to join them so that they can express their appreciation in person.

  "We were hoping," the Charge Nurse ended, "that you will visit us in the Illensan dining-room during main meal tomorrow so that we can do the same."

  For a moment Gurronsevas was unable to speak. Finally he said, "I am aware of that Earth custom and I am, indeed, greatly complimented. But..."

  "You will be in no danger, Gurronsevas," Hredlichli said re­assuringly. "Wear whatever type of environmental protection you choose. Only your presence will be required. We do not expect you to eat anything."

  Chapter 9

  When there were over ten thousand members of the medical and maintenance staff plus a few thousand patients that he would ultimately have to please, it was neither sensible, efficient nor even fair that he concentrate all his efforts towards the satisfaction of one being, even though it was probably the most influential en­tity in the hospital. The O'Mara project, Gurronsevas had decided, must be allowed to progress concurrently with those of others which were likely to present fewer problems.

  The decision had been influenced by his spies from the Psy­chology Department who, after five days during which he had en­gaged in some subtle tinkering with the Chief Psychologist's food intake, had reported no discernable change in Major O'Mara's tem­per, behavior following meals, or manner towards subordinates or anyone else.

  During one of their daily meetings in the dining hall, Cha Thrat suggested that the Major might be one of those rare people with the ability to ignore their sensoria while engaged in serious professional mentation during meals, and was therefore unaware of the changes. Braithwaite agreed, saying that it had smelled the difference the Chief Dietitian had made to O'Mara's meals, and that it would gladly offer itself as a more appreciative and responsive subject. Gurronsevas had replied by saying that data obtained from an objective and even hostile source was more valuable than that from an appreciative volunteer.

  "However," he ended, "as there was no strong negative re­sponse from O'Mara, I have assumed that the changes are accept­able and have already introduced my Earth-human menu changes into the main dining hall's synthesizer. You, Lieutenant, and prob­ably every other Earth-human in the hospital, will let me know what they think."

  "We will," said Braithwaite, smiling as it called up the menu. "Which meals?"

  "I need decent food, too," said Cha Thrat, "as much and as often as Earth-human DBDGs."

  "I am aware of that," Gurronsevas replied, "and the hospital's single Sommaradvan DCNF has not been forgotten. But your species joined the Federation comparatively recently and, during my time at the Cromingan-Shesk, we did not have the opportunity of catering for Sommaradvans. Data on your eating habits and preferences is therefore scarce. If you wish to discuss them with me now I would gladly listen, if only to take my mind off the taste of this unappetizing mush that resembles only visually a truncated creggilon in uxt syrup. But my own favorite other-species dish is the Nallajim strill millipede, a beautifully-marked crawler with black and green hair about so long, and served live, of course, in an edible cage of cruulan pastry."

  "Please," said Braithwaite, "I am about to eat."

  "I, too," Cha Thrat said, "am suffering increasing abdominal discomfort. In a moment I shall probably turn myself inside out."

  "Suffering is good for the soul, Cha Thrat," Padre Lioren joined in, "and if you do that we will find out whether or not you've got one."

  Gurronsevas was trying to devise a reply that was both culi­nary and theological when a Hudlar wearing the insignia of a junior intern approached the table and vibrated its speaking mem­brane.

  "Chief Dietitian Gurronsevas?" it said shyly, and waited.

  The Hudlars had the thickest and most impervious skin of any Federation species, Gurronsevas knew from long experience, and the most sensitive feelings. He said, "Doctor, may I help you?"

  "You may be able to help me, and my FROB colleagues," it said. "But is this an inconvenient time for you? Our problem is se­rious but non-urgent."

  Gurronsevas said, "I have a few minutes to spare before leav­ing for Loading Bay Twelve. If you need more time than that we can talk as we walk. What is the problem, Doctor?"

  While they had been speaking, all of Gurronsevas' eyes had been on the creature who, although not much greater in size, had a body mass at least four times that of his own. It had six tentacu­lar limbs which served both as locomotor and manipulatory ap­pendages and, like many immensely strong beings forced to live among entities many times weaker than itself, it was careful and gentle in its movements.

  The FROB physiological classification, Gurronsevas reminded himself, had evolved on a heavy-gravity world with an ultra-dense atmosphere that resembled nothing so much as a thick, high-pressure soup. It was covered by a body tegument, transparent where it enclosed the eyes, that was as tough as flexible armor plat­ing. As well as protecting them against the savage external pressure of their native environment, it enabled them to work comfortably in any atmospheric pressure down to and including the vacuum of space. Their skin was completely without seam or body orifice, the speaking membrane served also as its sound
sensor, and they did not breathe. Food was ingested through organs of absorption that covered both flanks and the wastes were eliminated by a similar mechanism on the underside, both systems under voluntary con­trol. When off-planet their food had to be sprayed on at frequent intervals because they were an energy-hungry species.

  The most common problem with Hudlars was periodic star­vation. When their minds were concentrating on their duties or an interesting conversation, and often while they were hurrying to the dining hall sprayers, they collapsed helplessly onto a ward or cor­ridor floor whenever their food ran out, and they could not be re­vived until they were repainted. If the coating of food was applied without delay, there were no ill-effects, so the condition was con­sidered to be a nuisance rather than a medical emergency. To re­duce the incidence of Hudlars collapsing from malnutrition at the wrong times and places, every oxygen-breathing ward in the hos­pital stocked a supply of Hudlar paint for use in these non-emergencies. But this one's organs of absorption were thickly cov­ered by nutrient paint, Gurronsevas saw, so its problem could not be food.

  It is always wrong, Gurronsevas told himself as soon as the Hudlar began to speak, to jump to conclusions.

  "Sir," it said, "everyone is talking about the alterations you have made to the Chalder, Illensan and Earth-human menus. I, we Hudlars, that is, would not want you to think that we are compli­menting you simply for the purpose of influencing your future ac­tions, because the compliment is deserved whether or not you...Oh, are you leaving for Bay Twelve now? I, too, have business there. Shall I walk in front of you, Chief Dietitian? We would make bet­ter time because the other entities using the corridors will try to avoid colliding with a Hudlar, regardless of any differences in med­ical rank."

  "Thank you, Doctor," said Gurronsevas. "But I'm not sure that I can do anything for you. Hudlars are, well, Hudlars. My ex­perience of serving patrons of your species was similar to what happens here, except that a light screen was placed around their dining area to protect nearby patrons from misdirected nutrient. The food tanks were taken from stores, and the only function of my kitchen staff was to ensure that the spraying equipment was arranged on a suitably decorated floater. What changes had you in mind, Doctor?"