by Opal Carew
“Well, no. But…I am Vorn. Half Vorn anyway,” he said, as though that was supposed to make a difference.
“So? I’m human. Now let me try the cheesecake.” I held out my hand for the spork and he reluctantly surrendered it. (For those of you who are squeamish about eating after someone else, I’m sorry—it just doesn’t bother me.) Besides, I really wanted to try that cheesecake. I hadn’t even been gone from Earth a whole day yet and already I was having chocolate withdrawal.
I took a big bite of the chocolate cherry cheesecake, making sure to get one of the plump, gooey cherries too. I popped it in my mouth and chewed…then nearly spit it out.
“Wrong again? Is it not supposed to taste like that?” Sarden guessed, apparently reading the expression on my face.
“No,” I said swallowing with some difficulty. “Not at all.”
In fact, it tasted exactly like sushi. Not the mild California roll I’d tried to make earlier, either. The cheesecake tasted like the time I’d tried a piece of really strong salmon skin roll that Charlotte had ordered once. She’d gotten me to take a bite by telling me I wasn’t adventurous enough—I wondered what she would think if she could see me now.
Now, I know what you’re thinking—so what if they look wrong, you have something that tastes like cheesecake and something that tastes like sushi. Why not just close your eyes and eat them and enjoy?
Well, because it wasn’t just the taste I was dealing with. It was the texture and the smell. The smooth, creamy mouth-feel of the cheesecake and its rich, dark chocolate smell did not go well with the flavor of raw fish.
In fact, it was disgusting. So I was surprised when Sarden plucked the spork from my hand and ate another bite himself.
“Not bad,” he remarked thoughtfully. “At any rate, I’ve had worse. But I take it you want to try again?”
I sighed. “I’ll try something different this time—I think the food-sim thingy has sushi and cheesecake completely mixed up.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Go ahead. I have an entire drum of Nutrient Slime in the cargo hold—you can make as much shauckolat cakecheese as you want.”
This time I didn’t even try to correct him. Instead, I closed my eyes and pictured a cheeseburger. The biggest, juiciest cheeseburger ever, with pickles and onions, a deep red slice of tomato and a crispy piece of lettuce, all served on a big, fluffy sesame seed bun.
The food-sim dinged and out it came—exactly as I had pictured it. It smelled amazing.
Sarden eyed my creation with interest. “You Earthlings certainly have strange looking food.”
“Says the man who just ate a snake sandwich right in front of me,” I said, lifting the plate out of the food-sim’s big gold pot.
“Do you need a utensil to eat that?” he wanted to know. “What is it called, anyway?”
“A cheeseburger. And no utensils—this is finger food.”
“Finger food?” He frowned. “Is it made from the ground up digits of some animal?”
“Ugh, no!” I exclaimed. “Finger food just means it’s meant to be eaten with your fingers—with your hands. Don’t your people have any food like that? Aside from snake sandwiches, I mean.”
“The Eloim do not,” he said. “Even the churn wrap I ate was supposed to be carved into pieces with a vunnel knife and then consumed with the trillers.” He nodded at the cork-screw chopstick looking things. “The Vorn, however, are very fond of chabeth knuckles. We cover them in a type of sweet blood sauce and gnaw the meat from the bones. It’s a very messy affair.”
“It sounds like it,” I muttered. Actually, neither one of his cultures sounded like much fun. The Eloim sounded like overly fancy prigs and the Vorn appeared to be the galaxy’s equivalent of thuggish ex-cons with the table manners of a hillbilly. I wondered again how in the world his parents had gotten together. Maybe his mom had a thing for bad boys.
“Well? Are you going to try it?” Sarden asked, nodding at my plate.
“Absolutely.” I eyed my creation reverently. This time I was completely certain the food-sim had gotten it right. It looked so perfect—like a cheeseburger out of a commercial. I mean, it really was a thing of beauty. Closing my eyes, I took a big bite and tasted…
Chocolate éclair.
“Oh, no,” I moaned, putting the cheeseburger down.
“Wrong again?” Sarden picked it up, sniffed it, and took a bite. He frowned, putting it down. “That is much too sweet.”
“It’s not supposed to be sweet at all,” I said sadly. “It’s supposed to be salty and crunchy and chewy and delicious.” Not that chocolate éclairs aren’t delicious—but that taste just doesn’t go with the smell and texture of a cheeseburger.
“Possibly A.L.—Al—did something wrong when adding the new Earth cuisine to the food-sim’s program,” Sarden remarked. “Maybe you should wait and let him tinker with it some before you try again.”
“No.” I frowned. “I’m not giving up.”
He gave me a surprised look. “For such a small female, you certainly have a lot of determination.”
“I’m not a quitter,” I said grimly. “And I’m not that small—it’s just that you’re so freaking huge. Does that come from the Eloim side or the Vorn side?”
“Vorn,” he said. “The Eloim are only a little larger than you Earthlings.” He sighed. “I was much feared growing up for my size. Only Sellah—” He frowned and stopped himself abruptly. “Keep trying if you want to. I have to see if A.L. has finished the diagnostic on the Hydrogen scoop’s panels yet.”
He started to leave but just then Al came gliding into the room.
“Master Sarden, diagnostics complete,” he said in that proper voice of his. “But I’m afraid you will not like the results.”
“What?” Sarden growled. “All I want to hear is that we can get to Giedi Prime.”
“Not immediately, I’m afraid,” Al said apologetically. “One of the panels is fatally flawed and must be replaced. The repairs you made will only hold for a little while—long enough to get us to the nearest spaceport—Gallana—which orbits Proxima Centauri.”
Sarden groaned. “Not Gallana! It’s run by the Gods’ damned Majorans.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have better news, Master.” Al sounded genuinely sorry, too. “I know that speed is of the essence. But once the panel is replaced we should be able to use the Hyperdrive to make up time and still get to Giedi Prime at the appointed hour.”
“We’ll be cutting it awfully Gods’ damned close though,” Sarden growled. “But I guess if that’s our only option, you’d better set a course to Gallana.”
“At once, Master.” Al glided away again.
“What’s wrong with going to, uh, Gallana?” I asked, thinking it sounded like a super-expensive and ritzy shopping mall.
“Besides the delay? The fucking Majorans. They have…strange ideas about their females.”
“What kinds of ideas?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Never mind. The point is, whenever you visit a Majoran base, you have to follow their rules. Of the twelve overlord races—the Twelve Peoples, we call them—that the Ancient Ones left behind, the Majorans are in ascendancy right now. So their empress rules our galaxy.”
“Huh?” I stared at him, my chocolate-éclair cheeseburger completely forgotten now. “Our galaxy has an empress?”
“Of course. Who do you think rules us all? Her throne is located on Femme One, on the edge of the super-massive black hole in the center of the galaxy.”
“Okay, wow. That’s a lot to take in,” I murmured.
“You’d know all this if you hadn’t been locked away by the Ancient Ones,” he remarked.
“But we’ve been searching for extraterrestrial life for years,” I protested. “We’ve been sending out signals and scanning the stars… How is it we never came across anything at all?”
He snorted. “With the primitive instruments you have? You couldn’t find a black kalk in the white sands of Quendor with Earth
ling tech.”
“Hey, that tech got us to our moon and back—more than once,” I said stiffly.
He snorted again. “Oh yes—the journey of a single light-second. A mighty achievement.”
“It was for us,” I pointed out. “Everyone has to start somewhere.”
“That’s the point—you’re just starting out. Which means you’re far, far behind even the more primitive peoples of the universe. Besides,” he added more kindly. “Your planet is located in an out-of-the-way arm of the galaxy. It’s not like you’re close to any of the major space hubs. You’re just a forgotten little world the Ancient Ones put off limits.” His face grew dark. “And if you’re lucky, you’ll stay that way. Although I doubt it now that the Commercians have sunk their blue claws into you.”
I thought of other girls just like me being sucked through their mirrors or toasters or spoons or any shiny, reflective surface in their house and winding up on Bambi’s ship, just as I had. Not just one or two—hundreds, thousands, millions maybe, depending on how popular Earth brides turned out to be with alien men. If the Alien Mate Index really took off, we could be looking at the end of the human race.
The thought made me sick and a cold finger of dread skittered down my spine. I wrapped my arms around myself and shivered.
Sarden frowned. “Are you chilly? Char’noth said you came from a very warm region of your planet. I’m…sorry I didn’t give you more protective clothing. Although you do look tempting in just my shirt.”
His golden eyes roamed over me, making me shiver for a different reason. For some reason while we’d been using the food-prep machine, I’d managed to forget how very huge and imposing and shirtless he was. Now, as he took a step closer, I was faced with the broad planes of his muscular chest and I could smell his scent again—that warm, spicy, campfire aroma that made my knees turn to jelly for some reason.
“I’m fine,” I lied, keeping my chin up and trying not to let him affect me. “Just…just trying to decide what to ask the food-sim to make next.”
“So you’re determined to try again?” Sarden sounded surprised.
“I told you—I’m not a quitter.” There was nothing I could do about the situation with Earth—not now. If I could ever get back there, maybe I could warn my home planet. Although I was pretty sure everyone would think I was just plain crazy if I tried. Still, I would have to get home first to test that theory and right now, plan A was all I had to get there. Reverse Stockholm, I reminded myself.
Looking at Sarden, I gave him what I hoped was a flirtatious smile.
“How would you like to try another rare Earth delicacy? We call this one bacon and eggs.”
Sarden
The little Pure One never ceased to amaze me. She was determined to force the food-sim to get the food of her home world correct and she refused to stop trying.
She made me the Earth food called bacunandeggz—which consisted of long, crispy strips and fluffy, pale yellow chunks. But they tasted sweet, as the cheezburger had. Zoe said they had the flavor of pankakes which are apparently flat, spongy disks soaked in the sweet sap of a tree indigenous to Earth.
Rather than being discouraged by yet another failure, she was happy.
“I’m getting close,” she remarked, eating a bite of the crispy bacun. “At least these are all breakfast foods. And this pancake-tasting-bacon isn’t half bad.”
She tried several other things too but none of them came out the way she wanted. There was a thick piece of grilled meat which was supposed to be salty and tender but which Zoe said tasted like a sweet confection made of red berries and cake. Then she tried two slices of plain white Earth bread, much like the blue crust of my churn wrap, with a small amount of yellow Earth cheese melted between them. Again, it was supposed to be salty but Zoe said it tasted like something she called shauckolat pudding.
Though none of her Earth recipes came out to her satisfaction, she kept trying anyway. I don’t know why, but I stayed with her, tasting the strange Earth concoctions she coaxed from the food-sim and laughing with her as each came out worse than the last. We shared utensils and at one point, she asked me for a drink to wash the various tastes out of her mouth.
I got her a squeeze bulb of purified water but before giving it to her, I took a sip myself. Zoe didn’t hesitate to put her lips where mine had been—she took the water and drank it thankfully, apparently not bothered that her mouth had touched that which had also touched the mouth of a Vorn.
Watching her do that roused a powerful sensation in my chest—more powerful than I liked to admit. The Vorn are hated and feared through most of the universe and especially here in our home galaxy. We are considered an unclean species, especially by the fastidious Eloim. I could still remember the pain in my childhood of the other children refusing to touch me—washing their hands after even the slightest and most incidental contact. Only Sellah stood by me, refusing to act like the others. She never saw me as a half-breed or a Vorn—only as her beloved big brother, and nothing anyone said could shake her love or her loyalty.
I tried to push the thoughts of my lost sister away and thought of the days ahead instead. Stopping by Gallana to get a panel replaced was going to put a serious crimp in my schedule. And that was if I could find someone to fix the panel right away—a mechanic willing to deal with a male alone who didn’t have a female companion with him.
Just thinking of it made me grind my teeth. The damned Majorans are sexist and it irritates the piss out of me to have to deal with them. Not that I mind them worshiping their females—a male can worship any damn thing he chooses, as far as I’m concerned. But the fact that they make everyone conform to their ways or refuse to do business with them is damned irritating.
The other worry, besides our time constraints, was how I could pay for the new panel and the work to replace it. With the exception of a few hundred credits I had kept back for fuel, buying Zoe from the Commercians had me all tapped out. It looked like I would have to search a little harder for someone who wanted to buy the Assimilation medical equipment in the storage area of The Celesta.
But could I do all that and still get back to Giedi Prime and Tazaxx before the auction? I didn’t know. I sent a swift prayer to the Goddess of Mercy—hoping she’d hear me, despite what a bastard I am. And I tried to concentrate on Zoe instead.
It wasn’t hard—she had a bubbly personality that reminded me of Sellah, though she was more outgoing than my shy, bookish little sister. She kept talking and laughing, drawing me into conversation while she continued to work with the food-sim.
I wondered at her apparent ease around me. I was her captor—her kidnapper—and I had already told her I was trading her to Tazaxx. But she didn’t cry with fear or sulk or try to get away. She just kept giving me new things to eat and laughing at her failures.
I couldn’t help watching the way she moved—this close to her, the hidden spectrum of colors erupted across my vision, showing me her true beauty despite the inhibitor she wore. Her pale skin with its many dots of light pigment seemed to glow in the dim illumination of the food-prep area. Her hair was a long, silky tangle of auburn curls and her curves—those sweet, generous curves I’d admired so much when she’d first been brought aboard the Commercians’ base—were barely covered by the thin black temp-shirt I’d given her to wear.
I knew it was wrong but I couldn’t help wishing I could taste the merchandise, just a little, before I sent her on her way. If I kissed her or touched her it would likely be the last such contact she’d ever receive.
That was because Tazaxx was a Gord—a species sexually incompatible with the descendants of the Ancient Ones. He kept his “special collection” in a zoo-like exhibit area—for display purposes only. Zoe would be put into a beautifully built case with all the luxuries her heart could desire and there she would spend her days, behind a force-field, being lovely and innocent for Tazaxx and his friends to admire.
It was where I hoped and prayed Sellah was now. Knowing that
Tazaxx didn’t physically abuse or sexually violate those in his “special collection” was the only thing that kept me sane. I imagined my little sister in that gilt cage, behind the force-field, and then I pictured Zoe there, in her place.
I didn’t like either image.
So though my palms itched to caress Zoe’s curves and cup her full breasts…though I wondered more than once what her soft pink lips would taste like, I kept my hands to myself. I am, as I said before, no rapist. No matter how much she tempted me, I was determined to trade her to Tazaxx untouched.
But I couldn’t help watching her—she shone so brightly in the dimness of my ship. Like a star I had stolen from the heavens, though I had no right to do it.
Zoe
I don’t know how long we spent trying to get the food-sim to make anything decent to eat—it might have been a couple of hours. I do know the level of green Nutrient Slime in the gold pot had gone down considerably by the time I finally gave up.
By that time I had made bacon and eggs that tasted like pancakes and syrup, a t-bone steak that tasted like strawberry shortcake, a grilled cheese sandwich that tasted like chocolate pudding, and too many other things to count.
The closest I got to something edible was the pancake flavored bacon, but mostly because you eat those two things together a lot anyway. At last, I had to stop. I was determined to try again after Al worked on the program some more, but I was afraid I would make myself sick if I ate any more mixed up food.
Sarden didn’t seem bothered by the strange taste and texture combinations. He gamely tried everything I made, even the awful banana cream pie that tasted like sauerkraut.
I noticed he kept watching me as we worked and he got quiet once or twice but I counted it as a victory anyway. We were getting to be friends—well, sort of. And it’s a hell of a lot harder to trade your friends to some oily alien salesman than it is to trade away some girl you don’t even know.
Reverse Stockholm—I was sure it was working. Pretty sure, anyway. And I tried not to notice how those glowing gold eyes watching me made me feel. How when his fingers brushed my skin, even by accident, it sent shivers down my spine and made my nipples turn into tight little points.