Page 10 of Experimental Voyage
Shaking his head, the Veloc went into the galley and brought another dish with him, which he set beside my bowl. “This should be more comfortable for you.”
I investigated the plate to discover a roasted bird of some sort, smaller than anything I’d eaten before. After freeing more of the carrots from the various tentacles attacking them and giving everything else a try, I went for the grand prize of themeal, although I took the time to investigate to make certain there were no surprises lurking within the cavity.
Following hooted laughter, Herserael said, “There are no traps or tentacles, I promise. This is quail, another Earth bird that adapted well to our world. We raise them in massive flocks, wild and domesticated, to take into space with us. The birds are small and make excellent treats for the deserving. We made certain to bring a large supply of frozen stock for you. We have shelf-stable rations for ourselves, and while nutritious, we have found that pleasurable foods enhance healing. Of course, we are testing your tolerances at the same time. You did better than young Waldren.”
A snort behind me revealed the man had come calling. “You took it easy on her. I had the entire animal, and you’d decided to merge dinner with a science experiment to determine how long the tentacles would keep moving after confirmed death. The answer to that was longer than anyone felt comfortable with. I found the experiment to be useful, however. I learned to cook so I would never be exposed to your evils again. Camellia, do not take him too seriously. If he shoves you far beyond your comfort zone, I can cook for you. Veloc have opinions when it comes to what they’re willing to eat. You do not have to eat those things. The quail is good, though.”
I grinned at Waldren’s general attitude, which blended irritation and gratitude. His words implied he resented the Veloc, but the fond exasperation in his tone hinted at another story.
Just to see what he would do, I mustered my courage, took up my weapon of choice, the noble spoon, and scooped up one of the singular tentacles, braced for the worst, and shoved it into my mouth.
The broth, which was on the spicy side, did a good job of masking whatever flavor the tentacle had, although the texturehad me wrinkling my nose. I chewed, and once certain I wouldn’t gag, I swallowed. As that piece went down without attempting to murder me, I vanquished my foe, nose wrinkled the entire time. As I was wise, I saved one of the carrots for last, as I liked its almost sweet flavor. “I would like to pass on any other dishes containing tentacles. If I wanted to consume rubber, I would chew on a spaceship.”
The Veloc trilled before hooting his laughter. “Did you know rubber comes from plants? Across the known universe, there are over thirty thousand species of rubber producing plants. Veloci Minor, my home world, has a thousand common species of rubber producing plants, and we’re considered to have a less diverse stock. Earth had well over two thousand different species, and one of the generational ships had a seedbank with their variants. Many consider Earth to be of little significance in many ways; beyond its status as a premier evolvulite producer and target for planet busters, it offers little on the universal stage beyond interesting sentients. Rubber is one of the few resources valued, and Earth’s stock was completely diverse from other stocks. Earth also has a reputation for interesting culinary choices, for which we’re grateful for. We Veloc do appreciate variety. Whilehomo sapiensare interesting enough, they’re a little like fleas. If left to their own devices and permitted to do as they wish, they become an infestation.”
I snickered; even on my world, which was predominantlyhomo sapienswith little interaction with other species, we had a similar joke we tossed around with glee. “It’s been well over a thousand years now, but people still tiehomo sapienswith the world we cannot return to. Why?”
“It is always important to remember where you came from, and that is the birthplace of your species.” Herserael regarded Waldren, who joined me at the table. Palta hopped up onto the chair beside me and began purring.
I fell prey to the cat’s charms and put aside my meal long enough to pet her and assure her she ruled over the ship and its denizens, most of whom I had yet to meet. Once satisfied she wouldn’t feel completely neglected, I returned to my meal. “Can she have a piece of the quail?”
Waldren scowled, grunted, but nodded. “She loves hunting them on Veloci Minor. I usually buy or catch a few for her and set her loose in one of the storage rooms with a course set up to challenge her. If opportunity allows, I’ll take her to a rocky area and set loose a bird with clipped feathers so she can practice hunting.”
I pulled off a piece for her and offered it to her. To my amusement, she bared her teeth and moved with slow and deliberate care, accepting the treat.
The instant I released the meat, she jumped off the chair and ran off with it to feast.
“She’s like a larger version of a house cat.”
“Earth’s contribution of cats and dogs to the universe is truly cherished,” the Veloc stated. “And the breeds enjoyed a great deal of genetic manipulations to diversify them and improve their chances of survival among the stars. Except for one species we worked with, which had no genetic diversity and did not appear to suffer from the lack of diversity. The species still struggles, but as they have so limited genetic diversity, we experimented with them. We have successfully cloned and bred hundreds of the animals with great success and minimal genetic therapy required to keep them happy and healthy. A breed of spotted cat, quite lovely. Much larger than Palta here, but a delightfully cunning and fast predator.”
Waldren’s surly expression eased to something close to amusement. “The Veloc like any predator capable of keeping up with them at a run, and these cats can. But the animals are alsonot much smaller thanhomo sapiens, and they require a great deal of care.”
“He is trying to state they are not pets, and you would be wise to avoid petting them should you encounter them unless the animal happens to be leashed and you’re invited,” Herserael translated.
“I see. Pet a Veloc once, and I’m branded for life as an irresponsible petter of the furred and feathered among us.” I considered my statement, shrugged, and added, “It’s not an incorrect judgment. Had you corrected me with a bit of violence, I probably wouldn’t have been inclined to continue testing my luck. And because youdidn’tprotest, I’m going to test my luck. You should pet him, Waldren. He’s really soft.”
“As I have been dragged, while struggling and screaming, into a nest of Veloc to give my sister a hug and participate in their evening displays of affection, I’m aware Veloc feathers are soft. As I’m aware Veloc feathers can be quite plush and enjoyable, I don’t judge you for your drugged inclination to continue to pet him. Had he wanted you to stop petting him, he would have stopped you one way or another.”
“At some point, when I can comm with my family, I’m going to tell them I petted a Veloc and did not die.”
The Veloc’s whistle reminded me of a giggle. “We have muzzles for my clan we wear when distressed or ill to keep incidents at a minimum. If you wish to impress, I would be willing to wear one for you so you can show me, your new pet, off. My mate will find my behavior most entertaining. When I entertain her, she entertains the idea of new chicks. Ours are fledged and have gone to nests of their own.”
I eyed the Veloc with interest. “How do you teach them to fly? Throw them off something and see how hard they hit the ground? You don’t have wings.”
Herserael hooted, fluffed his feathers, and replied, “The younglings go on a short venture into space, use a glider, or otherwise engage in some form of activity that mimics flight. We complain early and often that we are most marvelous predators stuck on the ground.”
Waldren snorted. “Don’t listen to him. Most Veloc are horrified of traveling into space, so it’s a rite of passage for them, proving they are brave and strong enough to go to the stars. The misfortune of preparing the young Veloc for their first flight tends to be mine. I suspect that Herserael’s mother threw his egg around in early development—he is one of the few Veloc who truly enjoys going to space. The rest of the crew is one part insane, one part driven to help others. They are not quite as enthused about space travel.”
The Veloc’s crest lifted, and he mock swiped a claw in Waldren’s direction. The man ignored the feathered predator, his focus remaining on me. Later, I would take some time to think about their strange relationship. I took a small bite of the quail to determine the Veloc worked magic with food, as the skin was crisp, the meat was juicy, and the flavor enticed me enough I planned on sucking at the tiny bones until the bird had nothing left to give. “Thank you for the meal,” I said before digging in.
“It seems she likes quail,” Waldren stated, not bothering to hide his amusement over my behavior. “I was sacrificed to inquire when we can schedule our departure.”
“After the meal, so she can take some time to view her world. Please plan for a comm so she can speak with her family prior to our departure. It will be quite some time until she can return.”
“I’ll see it done. Enjoy your meal, Camellia,” Waldren replied before retrieving Palta, scooping the cat up so she wouldn’t be able to delay him, and leaving the galley.
The Veloc waited until certain the man had departed before sighing, giving himself a shake, and saying, “Please do not mindhis behavior. Palta was gifted to him when it became clear to us that he struggled after his sister became part of our clan. Your situation has reminded him of the mortality of all things, and while we have taken great care to extend Palta’s lifespan through genetic manipulation, I suspect that he gets reminders he would rather not have when he sees you with her tail and ears. And he is much like you—such an injury would render him unable to cope with his life’s circumstances. He will adapt to those fears in time, I’m sure. His bubble of security has been popped. We can accomplish so much, but your situation is a reminder that we cannot truly control life and death.”
