“Not so fast,” I cautioned her. “First I want you to promise that if you feel even the tiniest bit of a headache or any pain at all that you’ll let me know. These shock-a-lot ship pancakes might be important to you but they arenotmore important than keeping your brain intact.”
“That’schocolate chippancakes,” she corrected me. “And I know, Sir—as much as I love pancakes, I don’t want to go brain dead trying to make them. I’ll tell you if I have any pain at all—honestly, I will.”
I sighed.
“Recent past experience has taught me I shouldn’t trust you when it comes to your own well-being, you know.”
Little one put her hands on her hips and looked up at me indignantly.
“Sir! I had a very good reason to go downstairs on O’nagga Nine! I had to try and help that girl—her name is ‘Natalie’ by the way. I—”
“Think before you say another word,” I interrupted her, my voice dropping to a growl. “Do youreallywant to take your punishment now, on an empty stomach?”
Little one swallowed hard and her big brown eyes went wide.
“No, Sir,” she whispered, looking suddenly abashed. “No, I…no.”
I almost felt sorry for her, the way her little body trembled all over as she spoke. But I steeled myself against pity—shemustbe punished. She must be taught never to frighten me by risking herself so foolishly again!
Still, that was a matter for later. For now, we had other things to think about.
“Here,” I said, leaning down to place the control band over her head. She had no horns to get in the way, like I did, so it was easy enough to get the golden wire snug against her temples. It was sized for me but it shrank obligingly to fit little one as I placed it on her head.
“Okay…” Her eyes were wide as she pressed her fingertips to the wire around her temples. “Now, what?”
“Now close your eyes and picture what you want and send those thoughts to the Matter Synthesizer—the same way you sent your thought to the ship on O’nagga Nine when you needed to get inside,” I told her.
“All right.” She closed her eyes tightly and a look of concentration came over her lovely face, brow furrowed, and her bottom lip caught in her little white teeth.
“Concentrate,” I told her, watching carefully for any signs of danger or pain. “Think of how the food you want to eat smells, how it tastes, the texture as you bite into it, the flavor spreading over your tongue…”
“Got it…” her sweet, bird-like voice was tight but not with pain, I thought. She was just concentrating so hard she was all wound up inside.
After a moment, one of the doors on the Matter Synthesizer lit up and I saw the particles swirling as it drew what it needed from the air to make the food little one had asked of it.
After a moment there was a softdingand the food was ready.
“How is it? Did I do it?” Little one opened her eyes eagerly as I tugged open the door.
“Let’s see, shall we?” I said, pulling out the golden plate—the Matter Synthesizer always used pure, precious metals as food vessels to avoid any contamination—and examined its contents.
I frowned at what I saw. Several flat disks were stacked on top of each other and all of them seemed to be studded with small pockets of some kind of brown goo. On the very top disk there was a yellow square that seemed to be melting all over the place.
The odd concoction certainly did notlookappetizing—though itsmelledsurprisingly good. But when I showed it to little one, she clapped her hands together and jumped up and down.
“Yes! I did it!” she exclaimed. “Chocolate chip pancakes, just like mom used to make!”
“So…that’s how they’re supposed to look?” I asked doubtfully. “With tiny pockets of brown goo oozing out of them?”
“Those are the chocolate chips, silly,” little one informed me. Oh, I know…” She looked up at me with bright eyes. “Let’s try for some bacon and hash browns to go with them! Oh—and some scrambled eggs and a glass of orange juice!”
“One thing at a time, little one—you don’t want to wear out your brain trying to make a whole feast,” I said sternly, removing the controller from her head.
“Oh, all right.” She sighed and then gave me that sweet smile that melted me almost as much as the shock-a-lot ships. “I’m just happy to have the pancakes—to haveanythingbesides nutritional gel,” she told me. “Come on, let’s sit down and enjoy these.”
I looked at her in surprise.
“You want me to eat some too?”