Invitation

© 2019 by Walter Reimer


Thumbnail art by  rabbi-tom


“Your quarters?” Fuji asked. “Why?”

Meredith smiled and sipped at her coffee, her tail swishing slightly. “Because I just got the latest episode of Monsoon Poultry Hospital, and I thought you’d like to watch it with me.” The Komodo monitor looked a bit uncertain and she added, “You and I are the only two people on the ship that watch it.”

“You haven’t seen it yet?”

The mare shook her head. “No. I was hoping we could see it together.”

“All right. Should I bring anything with me?”

“Lube?” Ginny interjected, giggling as Meredith growled at her. The rabbit and her beagle boyfriend had boarded the freighter soon after the palomino and the rest of the crew had returned to the Kiss Me in the Dark at Sol Station after the mare’s encounter with Tariano and his companions. Ginny and Elroy were both sporting small gold rings in their right ears, and announced to the crew that they were planning on getting married in another year.

The party had been a good one, with even Mikhal joining in to wish the couple a happy life together.

“Quiet, Junior Engineer,” Meredith said, and the rabbit laughed. Turning back to Fuji, the mare said, “Any snacks you might like. I’ve got some beer left in my personal stores.”

The man grinned. “Sounds great. When?”

She glanced at the chronometer. “Maybe twenty minutes? I have to straighten things up a little.”

“See you there, then.” The monitor stood up and took his empty tray to the disposer before departing the wardroom.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Ginny asked Meredith, “Making friends, huh? What will Varan think?”

The mare chuckled, reached out and ruffled the rabbit doe’s headfur. “She’d be happy that I’m widening my circle of friends. Going to have Mikhal do your wedding service?”

“Elroy asked him.”

“And?”

“Mikhal punched him in the nose – not hard – and told him to not be a vacbrained fool.” The two women laughed at that. “I think when we get groundside again, we’ll just go to the public registry office.”

“Well, whatever you two decide, I’ll be there,” the mare said, and Meredith left the wardroom to straighten her quarters up for her guest.

Her room’s annunciator chimed a short time later. “Come in,” Meredith said, and she smiled as the monitor stepped in with a couple of bags in his paw. “Hi. What do you think of the place?”

Fuji looked around and stopped. He pointed at her bedside table.

She saw where he was pointing and her ears went back in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.” She folded a towel over it and shoved it into a drawer. “Kind of got used to having it out.”

“It’s all right. It’s modeled after a kam’s penis, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t say that it was modeled after Varan’s friend Kiran.

Fuji’s tongue flicked once, twice. “Looks sort of . . . utilitarian.”

Meredith shrugged. “Evolution. What can you do?”

“True. Some Terrans think Kashlani are perverse.”

“Some Kashlani think Terrans aren’t entirely sophont.” The two chuckled, and Meredith waved a paw at the two chairs she’d placed in front of the holoprojector. “What’d you bring?”

“Jerky and pickles. You?”

“Chips.”

“What flavor?”

“Parsnip-wasabi.” The mare glanced at her quarters’ small refrigerator. “I have three lagers and two ales.”

Fuji grinned. “An ale, please,” and after he’d opened the beer Meredith took her seat and turned on the projector, which displayed an image of a space station as the theme music began to play.

Monsoon Poultry Hospital had been running almost continuously for three-quarters of a century. It was set in a hospital station owned by a private corporation. It had a large cast of characters headed by the station’s head nurse. In the current series, Nurse Dara was played by a wolf, a kindly, personable fellow with a ready smile. The stories may have been older than the universe, but it prided itself on using live actors and it was an almost comforting diversion.

As the show unfolded, Fuji glanced at a plaque on the wall. The plaque bore an inscription in Kashlanin glyphs:

Amag lir demef
Zitēfin hremin laschmori.

“Leave my beloved / Asleep between bedclothes,” the Komodo monitor translated aloud. “That’s very nice.”

Meredith smiled, taking a sip of her lager to wash down her chips. “I thought so. I bought it at Downtime Station a while ago, when I was still on the officer exchange program.” Her ears swiveled slightly.

“Miss being in the Navy?” he asked.

“Not at all,” the palomino mare said, “but there’s always that whisper in the back of your head – you know, ‘What if?’” She shrugged. “I’m making more being with Transcosm, and I might end up with a ship of my own someday. As a Colonial, I couldn’t expect to rise very far – ooh,” and she started watching the show more intently as an interpersonal crisis between three characters started to be revealed.

The episode ended on a cliffhanger, as most of them did, and the projector shut off. “Huh,” Fuji said. “Nurse Dara will have a mess to sort out in the next episode.” He glanced at the mare. “What do you have in your library?”

“Well, let’s see,” and Meredith took out her padd, unfolded and activated it, and her fingers started dancing over the interface. “Hmm . . . ever seen a Kashlanin comedy? I have Tell Me What You’re Doing.”

Fuji’s eyes lit up as he smiled. “No, I haven’t. Is it in Kashlanin, or translated?”

“Options for both. Care to see it?”

“Sure. You can help me with my language skills,” and they settled back to watch.

Between them, they drank all the beer Meredith had, sharing the last one.