The Galactic Gourmet

by James White

  "...Remrath has been kind enough to adopt many of my suggestions," he went on smoothly, "and they have proved popu­lar not only with the teachers and the young but among a few of your returned hunters who say that—"

  "No!" Creethar protested. "Have you given them the poison­ous off-world food from your machine?"

  "I have not,'' said Gurronsevas reassuringly. "The ship's food dispenser is intended for crew use and it lacks the capacity to feed an entire community, so our off-world food was not offered to them. Only you have been offered it because of your gravely weak­ened and starving condition, and you have refused it.

  "Your friends in the mine," he went on quickly, "are eating and, most of them have told me, enjoying the local edible vegeta­tion which was thought to be suitable only for children. They eat it because I have shown Remrath many new ways to vary the taste of your vegetable meals, and present them more attractively, and add contrasts of taste with sauces made from herbs and spices which grow all over the valley.

  "For example..."

  Creethar neither moved nor spoke while Gurronsevas, with growing enthusiasm, went on to describe the many changes he had wrought in the mine-dwellers' eating habits. The new ways he had shaped and added spices or soft berries to their coarse-ground flour before baking had met with general approval. He said that his words and Creethar's imagination were a poor substitute for the taste sen­sations he was describing. When he repeated the compliments paid to his cooking by Remrath, and even the arch-traditionalist Tawsar, there was still no response. He was fast running out of things to say.

  Trying hard to control his impatience, he said, "Creethar, are you feeling hungry?"

  "I am feeling hungry," Creethar replied without hesitation.

  "It is feeling hungrier," Prilicla joined in, "with every word you speak."

  "Then let me give you food," said Gurronsevas. "Wem, not off-worlder machine food. Surely you can find no fault with that?"

  Creethar hesitated, then said, "I am unsure. The Wem food served to the young is well remembered, and it is not a pleasant memory. If you have somehow improved the taste, it may be because you have added off-world substances to it. I cannot take that risk."

  In the past Gurronsevas had dealt with his share of overly fas­tidious diners, and the diet and natural-food fanatics had been par­ticularly difficult, but Creethar was making some of their demands easy by comparison.

  "Creethar, you must eat," he said very seriously. "I am not my­self a preserver and cannot give a precise estimate, but if you begin taking food regularly you will soon be returned to your people. If you prefer Wem food to that from our machine, I can prepare the simple vegetable stew you remember as a child and, as flavoring, I shall ask Remrath for a little of the meat brought back by your hunting party. Your people are anxious to have you back, and I'm sure they wouldn't mind..."

  "No!" said Creethar sharply, its body moving weakly against the restraints. "You must not ask my people for meat, or speak to Remrath about me. This you must promise."

  "The patient," said Prilicla, "is feeling increasing distress."

  I can see that for myself, Gurronsevas thought. But why was it distressed? Had it suffered undiagnosed head injuries and was no longer rational? Or was it simply behaving like a Wem?

  Quickly, he said, "Very well, Creethar, I promise. But there is another possibility. Suppose I were to gather edible vegetation from your valley, and show it to you before and during every stage of its preparation and cooking. I will not promise to serve it up in the way that you remember, but I am sure that you will approve of the re­sults. I will not even use the heating system of the food dispenser for cooking, since you might fear contamination, but will person­ally gather your own natural combustibles and kindle a cooking fire on the deck beside you where you can watch me at work. What do you say now, Creethar? I foresee no difficulty in meeting all of your objections."

  "I am very hungry," said Creethar again.

  "And you, friend Gurronsevas," said Prilicla warningly, "are being very optimistic."

  Chapter 31

  Naydrad, with the characteristic Charge Nurse's concern for the proper ordering and cleanliness of its medical empire, ob­jected strongly to fires being lit on its aseptically clean casualty deck and wood smoke polluting the atmosphere. Pathologist Murchison said that it was bad enough to be forced back into the medical dark ages of treatment by herbs and poultices without being asked to be­come smoke-filled-cave dwellers. Doctor Danalta, who could adapt to any environment capable of harboring life, remained aloof but disapproving, and Senior Physician Prilicla tried to keep the peace and reduce the unpleasant emotional radiation in the area. But there were times, as now, when Gurronsevas did nothing to smooth their feelings.

  "Now that Creethar has been tempted into eating regularly and in satisfactory quantities for a convalescent patient..." he began.

  "For a convalescent glutton," said Naydrad.

  "...another and, you will be pleased to hear, non-medical idea has occurred to me," he went on. "During your last clinical dis­cussion, which I could not help overhearing, you stated that the pa­tient was making good progress, but that its recovery would be hastened if meat protein and certain minerals in trace quantities, all of which can be provided by our food dispenser, were added to its food intake.

  "My idea is this," he continued. "Since Creethar is afraid of everything produced by the dispenser, even though it has watched us use the casualty deck outlet many times, the patient would be greatly reassured if it were to see us eating Wem food prepared by myself as well as dispenser meals. Hopefully we should be able to convince it that dispenser food will not harm it because Wem food does not harm us. You will then be able to make the required di­etary change that will..."

  Gurronsevas broke off because Naydrad's fur was standing in angry spikes all over its body, Prilicla's fragile body was trembling in the emotional gale that was sweeping the casualty deck, and Murchison, its face turning a deeper pink, was holding up both hands.

  "Now just wait one minute!" it protested. "It was bad enough you cooking in here and choking us half to death, now you're ask­ing us to eat your disgustingly smelly Wem meals! Next you'll want us to sing Wem songs round the campfire so that it can feel even more at home."

  "With respect," said Gurronsevas in a voice that was not par­ticularly respectful, "the temporary pollution was not life-threatening, and on one occasion the Charge Nurse told me that the odor of some of the meals was not unpleasant..."

  "I said," Naydrad broke in, "that it killed the stink of wood smoke."

  "...You cannot know that a meal is smelly and disgusting until you have tried it," Gurronsevas continued, ignoring the in­terruption, "because anyone with a semblance of culinary educa­tion knows that taste and odor are complementary. I would have you know that some of the Wem vegetable sauces I have created, which I assure you are a taste well worth acquiring, are such that I shall introduce them into the Sector General menu on my return."

  "Fortunately," said Danalta, "I can eat anything."

  Impatiently, Gurronsevas went on, "I have never poisoned a diner in my life and I do not intend to start now. You all belong to a profession in which objectivity is a prime requirement, so why are you making purely subjective judgments now? My suggestion is that you eat one full Wem meal every day with the patient, always bear­ing in mind that any toying with food or other visible show of re­luctance while eating it would not be reassuring to the patient. After all, it is you people who wanted the patient to eat, and now to incorporate the additional material you consider necessary. I am simply trying to tell you how this can be done."

  Gurronsevas did not have to be an empath to sense that an­other emotional eruption was imminent from Pathologist Murchison and Charge Nurse Naydrad. But it was Senior Physician Prilicla with its firm but gentle authority who spoke first.

  "I feel that a spirited exchange of views is about to occur," it said, rising and flying slowly towards the exit,
"so I shall excuse my­self and retire to my compartment where the resultant emotional radiation will be diluted by distance. I also have the feeling, and my feelings are never wrong, that all of you will remember the purpose of Rhabwar and its medical team, and recall the many strange pa­tients and even stranger adaptations we were forced to make while treating them so that we could further that purpose. I will leave you to argue, and remember."

  The argument continued, but everyone knew that Gurron­sevas had already won it.

  During the next four days the Wem found and destroyed the last of the communicating and listening devices left in the mine, and the few words they were able to hear before contact was lost made it plain that the off-worlders had committed a most shameful crime and were worthy only of the deepest scorn. While gathering the early morning vegetation, Gurronsevas tried to speak to a teacher in charge of one of the working parties, but the elderly Wem closed its ear flaps and the young ones had obviously been instructed to ignore him. Since all contact had been severed, the team did not know what crime they had committed or how to apologize for it. But when Gurronsevas offered to enter the mine uninvited to ask Remrath for an explanation, Prilicla said that the Wem anger and disappointment was so strong that it could detect their feelings even on the quarter-mile distant Rhabwar, and it could not risk a further deterioration of the situation, if that was possible.

  Creethar, it felt sure, was their only way back to full contact.

  Good progress was being made with their patient. Led by Pril­icla, who felt that it should set them an example, the medical team were using his Wem menu for their principal meal of the day. They had agreed not to criticize his cooking within the hearing of Creethar, and as he left the patient's side only to gather fresh veg­etation every morning, he was not aware of any adverse criticism.

  But when Creethar was finally enticed into eating a little dis­penser food containing the required medication, and its continu­ing increase in body mass necessitated easing of its restraining straps, compliments of a kind were forthcoming.

  "Today's meal wasn't bad, Gurronsevas," Murchison said grudgingly. "And the lutij and yant dessert could grow on me in time."

  "Like a fungus," said Naydrad. But its fur remained unruffled, he noticed, so the Kelgian's disapproval could not have been ex­treme.

  "I liked what you did with the main course," said Prilicla who, when it was unable to say anything complimentary, said nothing. "While the taste and texture were completely different, I would rate it close to my other favorite non-Cinrusskin dish, Earth-human spaghetti with cheese in tomato sauce. But I feel distended and have a need for some flying exercise outside the ship. Would one of you like to accompany me?"

  It was looking only at Gurronsevas.

  Prilicla did not say anything else to him until they were out­side and the ship's protection screen had blinked off to let them through. With the empath hovering close to his shoulder, he walked slowly away from the mine entrance and down into the valley. Their path would pass within one hundred yards of a Wem working party, but he knew that the teacher in charge would ignore them.

  "Friend Gurronsevas," the empath said suddenly, "we, but to a greater extent you, are gaining Creethar's trust, and the process would not be aided if we were to exclude it from our conversations by switching off its translator. That is why I wanted to talk to you alone.

  "You must already have guessed that Creethar is ready for dis­charge," it went on. "Apart from one immobilized lower limb, whose cast is timed to dissolve in two weeks' time when the frac­tured bones have knitted fully and will support its weight, it has healed well. It should be happy, relieved and pleased at the prospect of returning to its normal life, but it is not. I am far from happy with our patient's emotional state. Something is badly wrong, and I would like to know what it is before I send Creethar back to its friends. That will be no later than two days from now because there is no clinical reason for keeping it longer."

  Gurronsevas remained silent. The other was restating a prob­lem, not asking a question.

  Prilicla went on. "It may well be that returning Creethar to its people will solve all our problems. Hopefully, it will reduce their present hostility towards us, restore Remrath's personal friendship with you and enable us to resume friendly contact. But there is something about them that we do not fully understand, something that causes inexplicable emotional responses in our patient. Unless we completely understand the reasons for its unnatural feelings, sending it home could be another and even greater mistake. I can­not tell you what to say or ask, because the most general and su­perficial remarks about its parent Remrath, its hunter friends, and life in the mine are met with a disproportionately severe emotional reaction, which resembles that of a fearing person whose deeply held beliefs are under attack.

  "I know that you are not a trained psychologist, friend Gur­ronsevas," Prilicla continued, "but do you think that you could spend the next two days talking to Creethar? Talk about safe generalities while listening, as we all will be, for the specific items of in­formation which, in my own experience, many beings suffering emotional distress of this kind are secretly wanting to reveal. If, dur­ing the course of the dialogue there is anything that the team should do or refrain from doing, or an idea that might be helpful occurs to you, tell us. You will be in effective charge of the non-medical treatment.

  "Creethar trusts you," Prilicla ended. "It is more likely to tell its troubles to you than to any of us. Friend Gurronsevas, will you do this for me?"

  "Haven't I already been doing that," said Gurronsevas, "un­officially?"

  "And now," the empath replied, "it is an official request by Rhabwar's medical team leader for specialist assistance in a crucial stage of the Wem contact. This must be done because, if you are unsuccessful, the responsibility will be entirely mine. You must not blame yourself for anything that may go wrong and, in this very un­usual situation, neither will the rest of the medical team. You are not an easy person to like, friend Gurronsevas. You too closely re­semble some of your recent Wem dishes in that you are an ac­quired taste. But you have gained our respect and gratitude for your assistance with Creethar, and none of us will blame you if you fail to resolve a problem that has already baffled us. How do you feel about this, friend Gurronsevas?"

  For a moment Gurronsevas was silent, then he said, "I feel complimented, encouraged, reassured, and anxious to do every­thing that I can possibly do to help. But, being an empath, you al­ready know my feelings, and I think it was your intention to make me feel this way."

  "You are right," said Prilicla, and gave a short trilling, un­translatable sound that might have been Cinrusskin laughter. "But I have not been tinkering with your emotional radiation. The feel­ing of wanting to help was already there. Now I feel you wanting to say more."

  "A few suggestions, yes," said Gurronsevas. "I think you should decide on the exact time and place of Creethar's return and inform Remrath and the others, in case there are preparations they may want to make. We know they are anxious to have Creethar back, and telling them when would be a politeness that might re­duce their hostility towards us. The best time would be in the early forenoon, I think, when the working parties and teachers are re­turning for their midday meal. That would ensure a large number of spectators and maximum effect, but whether the effect will be good or bad I cannot say."

  "Nor I," said Prilicla. Quickly it gave the time and circum­stances of Creethar's discharge, then went on, "But how will you tell them, when they close their ears whenever we try to speak? Have you forgotten that problem? Because I cannot feel you wor­rying about it."

  Gurronsevas had always tried to avoid waste, whether of time, material, or breath. Instead of answering the question he stopped, rotated his massive body slightly so as to bring his speaking mouth to bear on the Wem work-party which was less than two hundred yards away, and filled his lungs.

  "This is an announcement from the preservers on the off-world ship," he said, slowly
and distinctly and very loudly. "The hunter Creethar will be delivered to the mine entrance at one hour before noon on the day after tomorrow."

  He could see the Wem teacher's ear flaps close at the first words, and hear the anger in its voice as it tried to make the stu­dents do the same while Gurronsevas repeated the announcement. But it was not succeeding because the young ones were hopping around their instructor in small circles and shouting excitedly to each other. He knew that the Wem adults had closed their ears to the off-worlders, but there was no way that they could stop listen­ing to their own children.

  The news about Creethar's return would be all over the mine by nightfall.

  "Well done," said Prilicla, making a graceful, banking turn so that it again faced the ship. "But now you have a lot more talking to do. Let us return to our patient."

  It was almost as if Creethar had become Gurronsevas's patient. They were left alone on the casualty deck for long periods while the medical team stayed in their quarters or on Rhabwar's tiny dining and recreation deck. He knew that Williamson on Tremaar was recording everything that was said, but the other Captain's com­ments or criticisms were withheld so that he could talk to the pa­tient without distractions.

  He found it easy to talk to Creethar but difficult to remain on a topic which would not quickly cause it to stop talking back. Prilicla reported that its silences were invariably accompanied by se­vere emotional distress in which fear, anger and despair predomi­nated. And still Gurronsevas and the listening empath could find no reason for these sudden bouts of reticence.

  Talking about the Wem and their centuries-long fight for sur­vival on a world brought close to death by the uncontrolled pollu­tion of the distant past was a safe if not a pleasant subject, except when they disagreed about the importance of meat-eating for suc­cessful procreation. In the Old Times, Creethar said, the grass­lands and forests were filled with tremendous herds of animals. The herds and teeming jungle creatures had long since vanished, but the eating of meat, even the small and infrequent morsels available after an unsuccessful hunt, had become a kind of non-spiritual re­ligion.