Comfort

© 2017 by Walter Reimer


Thursday Prompt: cozy



Poets tend to get very wordy and flowery about space. They’ll spend entire books talking about how grand, how starkly beautiful and how full of wonders it all is.

Those who actually serve in space, who work and live there, will tell you that it can be mind-numbingly boring. They tend to disagree with poets on that point.

The ship was called a patrol cruiser by its builders, but the Terrans dignified it as a light cruiser. The AZB Kith and the CSS Rani Anitra were part of a military exchange program, with the Terran Confederacy and the Kashlan Empire trading junior officers in a rather forced display of interspecies amity.

Both of the starships had some things in common in terms of design; form must follow function, after all, but where the Anitra had a smooth and streamlined shape reminiscent of a Terran bird or fish, the Kith could best be described as “a brick equipped with hyperdrive motors.” It was strictly utilitarian, because Kashlanin designers had better things to do.

Those better things were the interiors of Imperial ships, which were geared toward comfort. The control station, rather than being set forward or ‘on top’ of the ship, was inside the hull and comprised seven well-padded seats set in a circle, facing inward. On the ship’s night cycle, only two seats were occupied.

The palomino-patterned mare at the pilot’s station poked listlessly at a few keys, using the ship’s tactical projector to navigate her character through an idealized medieval fantasy game. The only other member of the crew on the bridge, the Duty Officer, sat in the captain’s chair and watched with a bemused expression on her dark gray-furred, somewhat canine face as the CGI character made its way through a dungeon and fought various beasts. “Meredith?” she said.

“Yes, Varan?” the mare asked. She saved the game, the armored half-dragon paladin freezing in mid-stride, before glancing across the room at the shlan seated opposite her. They were both dressed in identical dark gray single-piece uniforms, with the shlan wearing flexible metal-soled boots. Being equine, Meredith didn’t need covers on her hooves.

The vir’s long, prehensile tail gestured, pointing at the 3-D display in the center of the bridge. “You do know that the tactical display is not your private game console.”

Meredith d’Estcourt grinned, remembering to frown as she bared her teeth. The Kashlani had different musculatures and a happy smile to a Terran would be misinterpreted as a very unpleasant frown. It had caused a few arguments and fights among mixed crews before Terrans learned. A shlan’s tail, twice their body length and tipped with a bony spur, was also capable of making a number of gestures as well as grasping objects. “I know it isn’t, Varan,” the mare said, “and the navigation and tactical functions are all running in background. This level’s been running for at least an hour with no objection from you.”

Varan’s honey-brown feline eyes closed and she laughed, a distinctive two-tone wheezing sound as she smiled Terran-style for the equine’s benefit. “I’ve been watching. The game’s AI is . . . unusually heuristic.” The tip of the tail rose and wagged back and forth as she added, “Very unusual.”

“It’s not self-aware, trust me on that. Your techs took it apart and put it back together – twice – before I was allowed to bring it on board.” Kashlani didn’t allow sophont-level AIs in their space, or on their ships. They weren’t very forthcoming with specific reasons why. “It’s a good game, though, really popular. Which is why it’s taken me a year just to get to this level.”

“I can see why,” Varan said. “It looks very complex. How many levels are there?”

“Twenty, and I’m only on nine.”

“Aka, that sounds like an interesting game.” The vir looked a bit uncertain before asking, “Could you . . . teach me how to play?”

Meredith smiled, her tail swishing. “Of course. There’s a multiplayer mode – “ The holographic game vanished, replaced by a blue-tinted display of local space with a small set of axes picked out in white. “Nav sensors picked up an object, Lieutenant,” the mare said. “Mostly carbon and silicon, vector shows that it’ll be crossing our path.”

Varan leaned forward in her chair. “How close will it come?”

“We might hit it – if we run the engines to maximum thrust. The computer agrees with me.” Meredith glanced at her console and nodded, tapping a hoof on the carpeted deck as she said, “It’s recommending no action.”

“Ernh.” Varan consulted the repeater screen at her station as the main display showed the object’s position and course relative to the Kith. As the Duty Officer, she spoke with the commanding officer’s voice until relieved by a higher-ranking officer. “I concur,” she said finally, “but I think that you should stop your game. The morning shift will be on soon.”

“No problem. I’d already saved it.” Meredith closed the display at her repeater and returned the navigation and tactical displays to the foreground. The equine also resolved that she would crack that level.

The starboard bridge door opened and six shlani came in, three males and three females. They gestured or offered greetings to Meredith and Varan before four of them took seats at their stations. The Weapons Officer took her seat and smiled at Meredith. “Pilot, I have Weapons.”

Meredith’s fingers traced a small coded command. The tactical display faded from her repeater to appear on the Weapons console. “Transfer concluded,” she said, and repeated the ritual with Sensors and Communications. The kam who was to relieve her as Pilot stood beside her chair, tail twitching, as the Captain entered the Bridge. Varan stood and stepped aside as he took his seat, then said, “Gartabin k’Jen, I report that all systems are operating normally. There was a sensor contact a short while ago” - the Sensor Officer obligingly brought up the asteroid’s track on the main display - “but no contacts otherwise. Standard reports were transmitted to Fleet Command as required.”

“Good.” Yezhef K’Jen looked like the sort of being who missed few opportunities for physical exercise. His physique and his glossy brown fur made him look rather attractive, at least to other shlani. “The night shift is relieved.”

Meredith got out of her chair and moved aside as her relief wordlessly took the vacated place. As she started to walk away her ears swiveled, catching him muttering to himself. The translator tucked into one ear whispered in Basic, “Smelly Terran.”

Smelly? At least I bathe, the mare thought tartly, but she felt bad almost immediately after she thought it. Kashlanin biochemistry was different from Terran, of course, with one early contact report describing the aliens as smelling like a “month-old jockstrap.” She couldn’t recall how she smelled to a shlan, but she was fairly certain it wasn’t pleasant. She took the time and care to stay clean, though, so she wouldn’t be too objectionable.

Meredith headed for her quarters. A bite to eat, a shower and her bed were what she wanted now.

A short while later, the mare stepped out of her cabin’s bathroom, wrapped in a robe and vigorously rubbing the last of the water from her mane with a towel. The remnants of her dinner sat on a table, and she slid it into the recycler before selecting a hot cup of herbal tea from the menu of Terran dishes available. She sat on her bed, sipping at her tea before switching on her datapad and accessing the news and mail from home.

While she read, a small prompt blinked in one corner, alerting her to an incoming message from Varan. It was text-only and read, Sorry about Kirian. He’s a lout.

So, she had heard.

“I’m sorry that you heard it,” Meredith said aloud, the text appearing on the screen. A tap of her finger, and the message was sent.

We normally have better manners than that, Varan replied. We’ve been instructed not to bring it up.

“I was told the same thing, not to bring it up. But now I’m curious,” Meredith said, and asked, “What do I smell like? To you, I mean.”

There was a long pause; so long, in fact, that Meredith started to think that the vir had closed the message. After about a minute came the response: You smell . . . my mother used to garden when I was young. You smell like fresh-tilled soil.

“Really? I’m flattered,” Meredith said, grateful that Varan couldn’t see her blush.

Another long pause. We’re off shift tomorrow. Could you show me how that game of yours works? Will you have dinner with me?

Meredith paused, the lip of her tea cup poised at her lips. She was glad that she hadn’t been drinking at the time, or she might have spit the beverage out. She’d been aboard the Kith for nearly three months, and no one had ever asked that question. Rumor had it that shlani were promiscuous, but she’d seen very little evidence of it.

The text was still there, and she said quickly, “I’d like to have dinner with you, Varan. Would hour eighteen, ship’s time, be acceptable?”

Yes, that will be fine. The window closed, leaving the mare staring at the display for a moment. Her ears swiveled nervously as she recalled the text and read the exchange again while drinking her tea. Did Varan actually sound nervous?

The herbal tea did its job, as it always did, and Meredith found her eyelids drooping. She set the datapad and the cup aside, cleaned her teeth and got into bed. She’d been amazed at how comfortable the bed had been when she’d first come aboard the ship, and between it, the gentle harmonic vibration imparted by the engines through the hull, and her own weariness, she was soon fast asleep.

After breakfast, she spent a few hours in the ship’s gymnasium, the room’s gravity set to Earth standard. Kashlani were more comfortable at their own gravity, about 0.76 standard; Meredith had felt a bit lightheaded at first. At 1.0g, she could get a proper workout. The remainder of the day was spent in her room, studying a few tutorials and her game manual, before taking a nap.

Freshly bathed and wearing casual clothes, she arrived at Varan’s cabin door, cleared her throat and tapped the annunciator. “Meredith gash, Varan; nara’ da’ zorin i’?”

The door opened and framed Varan, wearing a loose-fitting robe patterned in a fractal kaleidoscope of clashing colors. She was smiling and her tail-tip tapped on the floor in a gesture meant to intensify her delight. “You’ve learned our language!” she said, stepping back to allow the mare to enter.

“Just a little, for now,” Meredith said as she came in. Varan’s quarters were decorated in bright colors, with actual paintings of flowers and trees on the walls. “I thought that we might learn to talk without translators – “

She froze in surprise as the taller vir suddenly wrapped her arms around the mare’s torso from behind, her tail joining her arms and hugging her tightly. “Thank you, Meredith.” Just as quickly as it happened, Varan released her and stepped away as the door closed. “You’re the first Terran I’ve encountered who wanted to learn our language.” Her feline eyes widened a bit. “Did – was I too forward just then? I apologize if you’re offended.”

The mare raised a paw. “No, I’m not offended, just surprised. Never had one of you hug me before.” She smiled reassuringly, and stepped up to hug the vir. “It was nice.” She released the vir and asked, “So, what should we do first? I warn you, gaming can take entire days out of your life, so it’s best if we eat first.”

“Then we’ll eat,” Varan said with a grin. “It wouldn’t do for it to get cold.”

Dinner illustrated their differences. Meredith had a salad with crumbled cheese and raspberry vinaigrette, served with a small, dense loaf of oat bread studded with nuts and raisins. Varan’s meal was half a roast bird with herbs. The only point of similarity sat in a carafe in the center of the table. A Terran colony on the border between the Confederacy and the Empire had managed to concoct a beverage that was compatible to both species. It was named ‘whisky’ despite its provenance, and Markellan whisky was eagerly traded on both sides of the border.

The two ate quietly, Meredith taking a sip of her drink from time to time. She studied the brown liquid in the glass for a moment before asking, “Varan?”

“Yes?”

“Is everything all right?” The vir set her tongs aside as the mare said, “I’ve been aboard the Kith for a while now, and we’ve both been on the same shift for most of that time – “

“I like you.”

The mare’s ears went up, and swiveled forward, her eyes going wide as she set the glass down. “You . . . like me?” she asked.

Varan nodded, Terran-fashion. “You’re competent, nothing really seems to bother you, and I think you’re a good person. I think . . . I think you’re a good person.” She picked up her glass and took a quick swallow of Markellan whisky before saying softly, “I’ve had news . . . from home.”

“Bad news.” Again, the nod, and Meredith carefully resisted reaching out and grasping Varan’s hand. Kashlani placed a lot of significance on clasping hands; to them it was a gesture so intimate that it was reserved for lovers and married people. She got up and moved her chair around the table before sitting down beside Varan. Despite being taller than the mare, Varan looked smaller, and the mare slipped an arm around her shoulders. “What?”

Varan placed a hand over her eyes and said quietly, “I got a letter, from my mother. My father has died.” She bared her teeth, the corners of her mouth pulling up in a rictus as she whispered, “Heart failure, too far away for care to reach him in time. He, he was only two hundred.” She began to cry, and continued to weep as Meredith pulled her close and hugged her, holding the canid head on her shoulder and filling her nose with the vir’s scent.

The scent, so close, wasn’t objectionable. It was musky, yes, as befitted a sulfur-heavy biochemistry, but there was also a certain fruity note to it.

Meredith found that she could get used to it.

She still held Varan until the vir pulled away, using her napkin to wipe her eyes. “I – I apologize,” she said softly, “I did not mean to burden you. I – I just – “

“You need a friend,” the mare said.

The vir looked at her wide-eyed, feline pupils dilated. “Yes.”

Meredith nodded. “It’s been lonely here, Varan, I admit that. I need a friend, too.” She met the shlan’s gaze. “Can we be friends?”

Varan embraced the mare again. “Yes,” she whispered. They held each other for a while before they both drew back a bit, and Meredith reached up to brush away a tear from Varan’s cheek with the pad of her thumb.

“Still hungry?” Varan gestured negation. “Good. I’m not hungry any more, either.” She looked around the room and spotted a small sofa, oriented to face the windows. Stars could be seen past the transparisteel. “Would it be forward of me to suggest that we sit over there, and just look at the stars like a pair of new friends?”

“Ernh, the game – “

Meredith shook her head. “The game can wait, lir renit,” and the vir brightened at the words ‘my friend.’ “You need to mourn, I think, and you need a friend to lean on while you do that. So, let’s look out at the stars, and you tell me about your father, and about yourself.”

“And you’ll tell me about yourself,” Varan said.

“Exactly.” It would be good to have a friend, among these aliens.

The two beings, mare and vir, settled down on the sofa, curled against each other and comfortable, and began to talk.



End.