Sir ChickenBurger
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Killer Kittens from Outer Space- Chapter Eighteen
🕑 Added 2024-02-29 20:39:41 +0000 UTC
Ana
“…Which is why you should be careful to include his wife in as much of the conversation as possible.” Vrina finished, and Ana’s eyelid twitched again. They’d just spent the better part of an hour going over the dos and don’ts of dining with a male from another household, and she’d been overwhelmed by minute five.
“So many rules… just to talk to one guy?”
“They’re more like courtesies; some lapses are more understandable than others,” Banta explained. “Vrina’s also a bit more hardcore than most women about the whole etiquette and chivalry thing.” She raised an eyebrow as the Ulu glared at her. “What? It’s true.”
“Anyway,” Vrina continued. “The main takeaways should be to just be polite, respect the man’s wives and do not touch him unless invited. I know you humans do the whole hand-grabbing thing, but don’t lead with that; explain it first and then ask permission if you must. You’ll do fine. I’m sure that given they accepted your request and offered to host you despite the… boldness of your letter, they’ll be just as understanding about any other missteps.”
“Okay, that will have to be enough,” Ana held up her hands. “If I die, I die. Now where did I stow my jewellery…”
She’d just changed into civilian clothes and was about to make ready to leave for her interview when a polite knock sounded at the door.
She shared a perplexed look with Vrina and Banta before a woman’s voice identified itself on the other side. “Specialist Cardoso? I have something here for you.”
Vrina was the first to move for the door, hopping up off the bed and over to the control panel. When the door slid open, they were greeted by a single soldier carrying a stack of two large trays, each covered by a lid.
“For your interview tonight,” she held out the trays. “The Admiralty has decided to provide human cuisine from your own culture for you to share.”
Banta’s nose twitched.
“Meat?” the ursinian asked, her eyes going wide, and she rose from the bed. The soldier took a half step back, pulling the trays back defensively.
“This is for Specialist Cardoso…” the soldier took another step back as she found herself surrounded.
“That smell…” Ana practically snatched at the trays, lifting the corner of the topmost one with glee. Steam billowed out, along with a heavenly scent that she’d never have expected to come across in space.
“Meat!” Banta exclaimed, licking her lips.
Within each tray was a veritable feast, plastic fast-food containers lying side by side, wrapped with clingfilm and bulging with food. There must have been five or six containers in each tray, easily enough to feed a large family gathering. One such container caught her eye.
“Is that… Picanha? Where did you get this?"
“The Admiralty requested it be brought up with the most recent shuttle,” the soldier explained. “Don’t ask me why; I don’t know. All I know is it’s been scanned for adulterants and cleared, and that I’m to deliver it to this room.”
“That’s… a lot of food,” Vrina commented, clearly trying not to look as interested as Banta, who was salivating and tapping her foot uncontrollably.
“There might have been a catering miscommunication,” admitted the soldier, who was also eying the tray’s contents with envy. She swallowed, heavily, and then regretfully handed them both over to Ana, who put them down on the bed. “The trays are heated, so it is best to leave the food inside until you are ready to eat.”
“There’s no way I’ll be finishing all this between just myself and two kespans…” Ana frowned.
“Wasted food is a sin,” Banta nodded solemnly, her jaws threatening to spill over with the sheer amount of saliva pooling at their corners. “Let it be known that I am, and always will be here to provide assistance in any form I can.”
“It would be a shame to waste such hard work,” Vrina agreed. She, at least, didn’t hover over the trays like Banta was doing, but she also hadn’t taken her eyes off them. All those months in deep space must have worked up an appetite. I suppose it’s the sisterly thing to do.
“Wait here a moment,” Ana asked the soldier, who nodded hesitantly. Cracking open a few of the containers, she swapped out some of their contents, until she had an assortment of several different meats in each, as well as some salad.
“Look at that, four meals to a tray. It’s a good thing they included cutlery,” she commented as she closed the last lid. “Wouldn’t want to have needed to do that with my hands.” She picked one container up and held it out to the soldier, whose eyes bugged out into comically large spheres at the offer. “Here, for your trouble.”
“I gratefully accept,” the soldier said immediately, swooping on the food greedily. She turned for the door then hesitated, looking between her prize and the open corridor with a pained expression.
“Stay and eat,” Ana said. “I’m guessing that what’s in that box will disappear pretty quick if you go back to the dorm with it. Bruiser and Singer will keep you… company.” The pair were already tearing into their own portions, Singer’s beak savaging at the plastic wrapping and disappearing into the tender meat within.
“Thank you!” the soldier exclaimed and followed suit, albeit with cutlery.
“Don’t eat Raker’s portion!” Ana warned as she scooped the remaining tray up and made for the door.
“Mmmph erghmph!” Banta rumbled back through a mouthful of food.
The executive suites were closer to the fore of the ship, separated from the soldier’s quarters by a complex maze of corridors and a brisk five-minute walk. Fortunately, her new communicator had come equipped with a function that allowed her to map a path to any location on the ship that she had access to, and soon enough she’d found herself standing outside a nondescript door marked ‘Suite 04’ in kespan. She double-checked her invitation.
Seems right, she thought, raising a hand to the buzzer next to the door and then hesitating, her heart pounding in her chest.
That’s odd. I wasn’t at all nervous on the way here. Seriously, this shouldn’t be more nerve-wracking than that press conference.
She moved her hand to press the buzzer, then blinked as the panel moved further away, her finger meeting nothing but air.
I… what?
The walls swam. The panel blurred together with the wall into a homogenized greyscape as the floors and ceiling lost their definition. Then she scrambled as her butt hit the ground, reaching out for purchase on the cold floor, her head spinning like she’d just downed half a dozen shots of hard liquor in a sitting.
This is… what was I doing?
Then, like a mortar shell exploding in her head, pain. A horrific, throbbing pounding that threatened to crack her skull wide open. She gasped, and not even a scream came out, just a wheeze of air and a low whimper.
Another throb of agony. In desperation, she threw her hand out.
---
Buzz!
“That will be her,” Jel smoothed one last wrinkle out from the hem of his vest and straightened up in the mirror, checking his eyelashes one more time. “Be a dear and let her in would you please love?”
“Only if you stop preening and accept that you’re gorgeous,” Skara called, and he heard her rise from her seat and step towards the door. “I wonder what kind of food she’s bringing. It’s been way too long since I had a proper meal that wasn’t fabbed.” There was a soft beep as she pressed the button to open the sliding door. “Hi there, wel- OH SHIT, SHIT! JELLI, COME QUICKLY!”
He rushed over.
The human was in a bad way. Several containers of delicious-smelling spiced meat were strewn about on the ship’s corridor. She lay among them, her head nodding back and forth, eyes wide and limbs trembling.
“It’s some kind of seizure,” Skara leaned back as the human retched and bile splashed across the floor. “Who do we call?”
“The med bay is close.” Jel had seen through the open door on their way to the suite. “Less than a minute. Faster to take her.”
Skara was already moving, grunting as she tried to hoist the human’s shoulder up from the floor to get beneath it. “Fuck, she’s heavy.”
Jel took her other side. “On three. One, two, hup!”
She was heavy. They managed to get her head and chest up off the ground before a spasm of taught, dense muscle almost knocked Jel off his feet. He sprung back, and Skara huffed with exertion as she barely caught the human’s head before it hit the ground.
“This isn’t going to work,” she panted.
Jel’s mind raced. It’s mealtime, and we’re in a low-traffic part of the ship. “Call out for help. If it doesn’t come, I have an idea,” Jel said hurriedly, and he ducked back into the suite.
Skara’s calls echoed down the corridors as he rushed for the bedroom. He grabbed for the duvet, and bundled it in both arms, then sprinted again for the doorway.
No one had arrived yet, and the human was still shaking.
“Here.” He laid the duvet out like a square next to the human. “We just need to roll her on. One, two, three.” With some effort, they managed to get the human situated, and he wrapped one corner around each of the human’s feet. “Grab one leg, we’re pulling her.”
There was no help to be found on their way to the medbay, most of the guests seemed to have ventured out in search of food. Fortunately, the smooth flooring provided little friction, and towing the woman was much easier than trying to carry her. They made good time, but even so, when they rounded the last corner they were both puffing like they’d run a marathon. Maybe Rumarr had been right, the human was practically made of muscle.
“HELP!” Skara called as the medbay doors neared. “We need medical assistance, right now!”
The door slid open, and a male ulu-ulu poked his head out. He was garbed in the traditional white apron of a ship’s doctor, and his rust-red crest sprung up in alarm when he spotted them.
“Is that…? Quickly, bring her in.”
A flurry of activity followed, staff springing into action and bundling the human across the medbay floor. Within a couple of minutes, she had been medicated and was lying beneath an imaging machine.
“Treika, send a message to the Admiralty to let them know we have Specialist Cardoso in urgent care,” the doctor called across to one of the kespan nurses, who bobbed her head and stepped away. “Korrla, I want scans as soon as possible.” An ursinian nodded and tended to the human. “Now,” he turned to Jel and Skara, who were still winded from their dash across the ship. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s not much to tell,” Skara shrugged. “We were expecting her for dinner and found her at the front door seizing. There was no one else around.”
“I don’t suppose you know if she hit her head?” The screen above the imager lit up as the ursinian started the machine.
“I’m not sure,” Skara replied. “She was on the ground when I found her.”
“Hmm, no matter.” The doctor hopped across to the end of the table upon which the human was laying and watched the screen. “We’ll get to the bottom of it. Korrla, if you please.”
“Beginning the scan,” the technician called out. “Everyone, step back from the patient please!”
A bright flash lit the room.
“Should have results for you in a moment, doctor,” the ursinian nodded respectfully. “We’re already reading some unusual activity in the… oh my.”
The doctor tutted, his beak clicking thoughtfully as he examined the readings. “Oh my indeed,” he said. “That’s quite a lot of inflammation in the pre-frontal cortex. Nurse, prepare the human for surgery. Her body is rejecting her implants.”
“Implants? As in multiple?” A nearby nurse frowned as she read from her screen. “Respectfully doctor, I have her records in front of me. She’s got the standard translator chip, that’s it. Nothing that should be causing problems.”
“I am staring at a rejected implant,” the doctor looked over sharply. “One of several. No time to worry about her records being out of date. They need to come out.” He turned to Skara and Jel, who had backed up against a wall out of the way and were staring wide-eyed at the organized chaos. “Just like I need you two out. You did well to get her to us; now give us space to work.”
“Come on love,” Skara nudged Jel, and they slipped out.
They’d made it half a dozen steps out into the corridor when the sound of multiple pairs of boots thundering down the hallway behind them caused Jel to look back over his shoulder.
Half a dozen soldiers in plain grey uniforms were marching in quickstep around the corner behind them. They stopped at the medbay, and as the lead woman stepped through the sliding door, Jel spotted a bright bead of colour amongst the slate grey. A red button on the lapel and cuffs of her suit. They all wore them.
The Imperial Garrison? Here?
They’d been noticed too. Jel turned his head sharply, away from the calculating stares of the garrison, and the back of his neck crawled where he could feel their eyes burning into his back with an intensity that dwarfed any of the unsolicited leers he’d ever been subjected to.
The crawling sensation continued for well over half the walk back toward the hotel, and it wasn’t until they’d arrived back outside their room that he stopped and breathed a sigh of relief.
Skara had other priorities.
“Do you think it can be saved?” she asked, almost in tears as she cradled a half-spilt container. A delectable smell assaulted Jel’s nostrils, rich and full of exotic spices. His stomach rumbled.
“I am not eating off the floor,” he said, sniffing in disdain, but that only served to fill his nostrils with more of the tempting scent, and his voice wavered as another growl echoed through the corridor.
“But… real food Jelli! Look, this one still has the lid on!” She simpered, her eyes wide and glistening as she held up the intact container as delicately as a newborn kit. “It’s meat, Jel.”
He sighed.
“Just bring it inside and lock the door,” he said, taking one last look down the corridor. “I’ve got a strange feeling about all this.”
Comments
Twelve
I don't know. This looks like the implants might have tripped a seizure response similar to how you sometimes get warnings when you are exposed to strobing light affects
Terran_Armor_core
some sort of kill switch, would be my guess.
