“Well…yes,” she admitted hesitantly.
“I have news for you girl—I already like you,” Need growled. “A hell of a lot more than I should—a hell of a lot more than I want to. So just call me Need and be done with it.”
“Yes, my…yes, Need,” she murmured. “I’ll try.”
“Try hard,” he advised her. “And come on—we’re going to be late.”
He ushered her out of the fresher and through the front door of his quarters.
No doubt Last Meal was going to be interesting tonight—and probably not in a good way.
Seventeen
Lan’ara trailed the big Kindred down the vine-covered, moss-carpeted hallway until they came to what seemed to be the central living hub of the ship. There was a food prep area with counters, a sink, a convection laser wave cooker, a food storage container, a fast-heat/fast-cool unit, and even a magnetic strip with several sharp-looking knives gleaming on the wall.
She surveyed the set up with satisfaction and hope—maybe she would get to help out some here. Cooking and baking had been two of the extracurricular activities she had excelled at while attending Twyleth Tigg. Of course, most of the girls that went to the exclusive academy were destined to live in households run by multiple servants, where they never had to lift a hand to do any kind of work besides making their lord and master happy. But Lan’ara’s mother had taught her to be self-sufficient in the kitchen and she genuinely enjoyed preparing a well-cooked meal.
Directly adjacent to the food prep area was a dining area with a long wooden table that had various sized chairs placed around it. The chair at the end had a high back and carved wooden arms, all covered in living vines and flowers—that must be the Captain’s chair, Lan’ara decided. The other chairs seemed to be normal except for one thick bench at the far end which looked strong enough to support a terga beast. Lan’ara could guess who that one belonged too. With a shiver, she promised herself to steer clear of it.
Beside the dining room was an entertainment area. The door was open and Lan’ara could see a broad viewscreen set up and three large couches placed around it. She wondered what kind of vid shows the crew liked here. There had been a similar viewing room back at Twyleth Tigg and she and her girlfriends had gathered there most nights after their lessons for the day were done and watched all kinds of juicy trash—though they also had to watch comportment and etiquette vids there during the day.
She was just wondering where all of Need’s crew mates were, when there was a soft click from somewhere above her head and a smooth, deep voice murmured,
“All personnel please report to the dining area for Last Meal. Repeat, it is time for our evening repast. Please report at once.”
“Here they come,” Need murmured beside her and after a moment, Lan’ara saw a female-looking head and torso appear from around the corner of the hallway that led into the communal living area. It had long blonde hair and big green eyes—three of them. It was followed directly after by a male head and torso—also with three eyes. But when the two of them came completely into view, Lan’ara saw—to her shock—that both torsos were attached to the same waist.
The creature came lumbering into the kitchen on a set of legs like tree trunks, and the two beings—who were attached at the waist—seemed to be arguing about something.
“The Weblies ought to draft Bentis,” the male half of the strange duo was saying. “He’s the only player who can score enough goals to get them to the playoffs next season.”
“Oh please!” scoffed the female half. “Bentis couldn’t make a goal if the post was tied around his neck! The Weblies need Torger—and that’s who they’ll draft, if they know what’s good for them.”
Lan’ara couldn’t quite hold back a gasp. Her home world had been mostly humanoids with only an occasional gray-skinned Asher thrown in for variety. There were a few alien visitors from time to time, of course, but she had never seen anyone like the double person who was standing across the room from her.
“What’s the matter, girl—never seen a Duplo before?” Need muttered to her.
“Uh, no. No, I haven’t,” Lan’ara admitted.
“Try not to gape,” he told her. “Krax and Kreeva is the pilot—he/she won’t bother you as long as you don’t bother him/her. He/she is mostly too engaged in conversation with him/herself to mind anyone else anyway.”
“I thought you were the pilot, my…I mean, Need.” It still felt wrong to call him by his first name, she thought.
The big Kindred shook his head.
“Nah. I’m the Navigator—I use the star charts to plot our courses. It gets tricky sometimes because The Dark Heart specializes in ‘hard to get items.’ So often I’m taking back ways and finding new wormholes to get us around some sticky situations and avoid those who might want to search our cargo.”