get it hooked up so fast?”
“What do you mean? They sent me the schematics.”
Shawn shrugged. “Sorry. I just didn’t know you knew how to read Kafaran schematics, that’s all.”
“The laws of physics are pretty universal. After deciphering some of those scribbles they call nomenclature, it was pretty strai ghtforward. There was a little guesswork, but I got it all figured out.”
“Did you test it?” Shawn asked skeptically.
“You should see what came out of that thing when I turned it on,” Trent said with a shudder. “Disgusting. Looked like baby food . . . smelled like baby—”
“I’ll take your word for it. Let’s just hope you got it hooked up right.”
Trent looked over Shawn’s shoulder and nodded. “Looks like we’re going to find out.”
Shawn turned and followed Trent’s gaze. Colonel Tausan stormed across the hang ar, stopping only when he was within spitting distance of Shawn. He let out a guttural barrage of clicks, pops, snaps, and a smattering of gurgles, which Shawn knew was their native language, and the small computer at the Colonel’s side interpreted the mess of sounds.
“You call this a spacecraft?” the digitized bass voice boomed. “I have seen more spaceworthy hulls floating in a garbage dump.”
Looking past the Kafaran, Shawn could see both Melissa and Ambassador McDermott approaching—with the Ambassador a little too close to Melissa for Shawn’s liking. In an effort to quell interspecies hostilities, Shawn forced a thin smile. “It’s what we’ve got, Colonel.”
Tausan grunted in disgust, then regarded the Mark-IV once more. “If we are engaged in combat, you will kindly show me to the nearest airlock. If it were discovered that I died in such a craft, it could bring great dishonor on my family.”
Shawn beamed. “Believe me, Colonel, I’ll show you out myself with the greatest of pleasure.”
Melissa coughed uncomfortably, and McDermott’s jaw all but hit the deck. Shawn approved of the expression.
“Commander Kestrel, did you get the colonel’s food processing unit on board?” McDermott finally asked.
“My technician and I were just discussing that, weren’t we , Sergeant?”
“Indeed we were, sir,” Trent said with a nod.
“And I believe that we have it in perfect working order.” Shawn couldn’t sound more pleased with himself if he tried.
Tausan let out another series of pops and gulps. “I will be the judge of that.”
“If you insist,” Shawn said, then turned to Trent. “You heard the . . . uh . . . man. Go grab him some lunch.”
A moment later, Trent bounded down the cargo ramp, his nose upturned and pointed away from the grotesque -smelling dish.
When the smell wafted past Melissa’s nose, she instinctively tried to pinch it shut, etiquette be damned. “Oh, dear God,” she murmured and turned away.
Even the prideful ambassador was looking a little green around the gills, and Shawn surmised it was all the man could do not to vomit all over the hangar deck.
Trent cautiously handed the food to Tausan, who gave it a tentative sniff before instantly downing the entire canister.
If the sounds coming from McDermott’s innards were any indication, chaos on a diplomatic scale was about to ensue.
Tausan looked from Shawn to McDermott, and then to Trent. The colonel grunted, then stepped within inches of Trent. “You have done well, technician. In fact, I believe you have improved the recipe.”
Apparently the colonel’s breath left much to be desired, and poor Trent looked as if he might pass out at any moment.
“Don’t . . . don’t mention it, Colonel.”
Tausan then turned to the rest of the assembly. “You would all do well to follow this human’s example. His dedication to his craft is to be rewarded.” The Kafaran then turned back to Trent, eyed him approvingly, and
“What do you mean? They sent me the schematics.”
Shawn shrugged. “Sorry. I just didn’t know you knew how to read Kafaran schematics, that’s all.”
“The laws of physics are pretty universal. After deciphering some of those scribbles they call nomenclature, it was pretty strai ghtforward. There was a little guesswork, but I got it all figured out.”
“Did you test it?” Shawn asked skeptically.
“You should see what came out of that thing when I turned it on,” Trent said with a shudder. “Disgusting. Looked like baby food . . . smelled like baby—”
“I’ll take your word for it. Let’s just hope you got it hooked up right.”
Trent looked over Shawn’s shoulder and nodded. “Looks like we’re going to find out.”
Shawn turned and followed Trent’s gaze. Colonel Tausan stormed across the hang ar, stopping only when he was within spitting distance of Shawn. He let out a guttural barrage of clicks, pops, snaps, and a smattering of gurgles, which Shawn knew was their native language, and the small computer at the Colonel’s side interpreted the mess of sounds.
“You call this a spacecraft?” the digitized bass voice boomed. “I have seen more spaceworthy hulls floating in a garbage dump.”
Looking past the Kafaran, Shawn could see both Melissa and Ambassador McDermott approaching—with the Ambassador a little too close to Melissa for Shawn’s liking. In an effort to quell interspecies hostilities, Shawn forced a thin smile. “It’s what we’ve got, Colonel.”
Tausan grunted in disgust, then regarded the Mark-IV once more. “If we are engaged in combat, you will kindly show me to the nearest airlock. If it were discovered that I died in such a craft, it could bring great dishonor on my family.”
Shawn beamed. “Believe me, Colonel, I’ll show you out myself with the greatest of pleasure.”
Melissa coughed uncomfortably, and McDermott’s jaw all but hit the deck. Shawn approved of the expression.
“Commander Kestrel, did you get the colonel’s food processing unit on board?” McDermott finally asked.
“My technician and I were just discussing that, weren’t we , Sergeant?”
“Indeed we were, sir,” Trent said with a nod.
“And I believe that we have it in perfect working order.” Shawn couldn’t sound more pleased with himself if he tried.
Tausan let out another series of pops and gulps. “I will be the judge of that.”
“If you insist,” Shawn said, then turned to Trent. “You heard the . . . uh . . . man. Go grab him some lunch.”
A moment later, Trent bounded down the cargo ramp, his nose upturned and pointed away from the grotesque -smelling dish.
When the smell wafted past Melissa’s nose, she instinctively tried to pinch it shut, etiquette be damned. “Oh, dear God,” she murmured and turned away.
Even the prideful ambassador was looking a little green around the gills, and Shawn surmised it was all the man could do not to vomit all over the hangar deck.
Trent cautiously handed the food to Tausan, who gave it a tentative sniff before instantly downing the entire canister.
If the sounds coming from McDermott’s innards were any indication, chaos on a diplomatic scale was about to ensue.
Tausan looked from Shawn to McDermott, and then to Trent. The colonel grunted, then stepped within inches of Trent. “You have done well, technician. In fact, I believe you have improved the recipe.”
Apparently the colonel’s breath left much to be desired, and poor Trent looked as if he might pass out at any moment.
“Don’t . . . don’t mention it, Colonel.”
Tausan then turned to the rest of the assembly. “You would all do well to follow this human’s example. His dedication to his craft is to be rewarded.” The Kafaran then turned back to Trent, eyed him approvingly, and
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