draw. Family
did
matter. Was it possible that enough time had passed so that the idea of being here at home was not totally unrealistic?
Probably best not to consider that option now.
“How goes the investigation?”
“Slowly. There are many people to whom I must speak, to gather information before I find a scent I can follow.”
He glanced away, and his thoughts were, of a moment, so easy to read as Leeth’s had been that he could have spoken aloud.
She said, “Yes, and Jak is among them.”
“Did I mention his name?”
“Might as well have; I had no trouble hearing your thoughts.”
“Hear these, then. He is offal,” Droc allowed. “Dried white dung is worth ten times more, and probably tastes better.”
“You never cared for him.”
“With demonstrably good reason.”
“Nonetheless, he has a direct familial connection. If I am to investigate, I must go where I must to find answers.”
“The only answer Jak will provide is how worthless a Vastalimi can be and still retain the ability to breathe.”
She shook her head. She had come to realize that herself . . .
_ _ _ _ _ _
Wink sat in the rear of the cafeteria, eating what was the least-bloody-looking thing they had to offer. A lot of what was on the menu was still alive when you selected it. It would be killed and butchered to order as you watch.
Is it fresh? Observe . . .
There were a score of Vastalimi in the place, and most of them had seen him here often enough over the last few days so that they didn’t just sit and stare at him anymore. Nobody had initiated a conversation, which was fine by him.
There were a lot of fascinating things here, and their medicine was more advanced than humans’ in some areas and less so in others. Much more trauma than pathogens, which went along with his own skill set.
He looked at his food, some kind of rootlike thing, it had a consistency of a half-baked yam and the color of meconium. It didn’t taste too bad, more
umami
than anything. He had eaten worse. He hadn’t asked what it was; better to not know . . .
So far, he had read tons of material and was probably getting an education on Vastalimi healing superior to that of all but a handful of nonlocal doctors in the galaxy. Not why he had come, but hey, take what you could get. Never know when it might come in handy.
There were a pair of Vastalimi seated at a table nearby, and with his earbud hidden and the translator’s gain turned up a bit, he was able to overhear their conversation easily. He felt no guilt about listening since a lot of the time, he was the subject.
He had gotten pretty good filling in the blank spots the translator left in the conversations though it still wasn’t perfect. What he overheard the two Vastalimi talking about was fascinating, as much for their attitude as the content.
The taller one said, “Did you hear about the Rel?”
Rel were pear-shaped bipedal herbivores, about the height of an average human but half again as heavy. They were hairless, had a spongelike grayish flesh, and they liked to decorate their skin with bright paint or dye.
“Only thing I know about Rel is that they taste like hide glue.”
“This one sneaked into a bog freighter and managed to get into Northport undetected.”
“Came to Vast
deliberately
? Scat you say!”
“Raeel’s Own Truth.”
“Why would it do that? That’s crazy.”
“So it was determined to be later. Mad as a stoned sackfly.”
“Continue.”
“It had been altered. Augmented.”
“A Rel.” The translator didn’t catch the disbelief in the shorter one’s voice, but Wink heard it clearly enough. He was getting better at that, too.
“Sped up, increased strength, and drugged to make it brave.”
The shorter one didn’t speak to that, only waited.
“Steel claws had been grafted onto its paws.”
The shorter one finally got the direction of the story. “You pull my fur.”
“Not even a single hair. It came here to fight. Prey.”
“Fuck
did
matter. Was it possible that enough time had passed so that the idea of being here at home was not totally unrealistic?
Probably best not to consider that option now.
“How goes the investigation?”
“Slowly. There are many people to whom I must speak, to gather information before I find a scent I can follow.”
He glanced away, and his thoughts were, of a moment, so easy to read as Leeth’s had been that he could have spoken aloud.
She said, “Yes, and Jak is among them.”
“Did I mention his name?”
“Might as well have; I had no trouble hearing your thoughts.”
“Hear these, then. He is offal,” Droc allowed. “Dried white dung is worth ten times more, and probably tastes better.”
“You never cared for him.”
“With demonstrably good reason.”
“Nonetheless, he has a direct familial connection. If I am to investigate, I must go where I must to find answers.”
“The only answer Jak will provide is how worthless a Vastalimi can be and still retain the ability to breathe.”
She shook her head. She had come to realize that herself . . .
_ _ _ _ _ _
Wink sat in the rear of the cafeteria, eating what was the least-bloody-looking thing they had to offer. A lot of what was on the menu was still alive when you selected it. It would be killed and butchered to order as you watch.
Is it fresh? Observe . . .
There were a score of Vastalimi in the place, and most of them had seen him here often enough over the last few days so that they didn’t just sit and stare at him anymore. Nobody had initiated a conversation, which was fine by him.
There were a lot of fascinating things here, and their medicine was more advanced than humans’ in some areas and less so in others. Much more trauma than pathogens, which went along with his own skill set.
He looked at his food, some kind of rootlike thing, it had a consistency of a half-baked yam and the color of meconium. It didn’t taste too bad, more
umami
than anything. He had eaten worse. He hadn’t asked what it was; better to not know . . .
So far, he had read tons of material and was probably getting an education on Vastalimi healing superior to that of all but a handful of nonlocal doctors in the galaxy. Not why he had come, but hey, take what you could get. Never know when it might come in handy.
There were a pair of Vastalimi seated at a table nearby, and with his earbud hidden and the translator’s gain turned up a bit, he was able to overhear their conversation easily. He felt no guilt about listening since a lot of the time, he was the subject.
He had gotten pretty good filling in the blank spots the translator left in the conversations though it still wasn’t perfect. What he overheard the two Vastalimi talking about was fascinating, as much for their attitude as the content.
The taller one said, “Did you hear about the Rel?”
Rel were pear-shaped bipedal herbivores, about the height of an average human but half again as heavy. They were hairless, had a spongelike grayish flesh, and they liked to decorate their skin with bright paint or dye.
“Only thing I know about Rel is that they taste like hide glue.”
“This one sneaked into a bog freighter and managed to get into Northport undetected.”
“Came to Vast
deliberately
? Scat you say!”
“Raeel’s Own Truth.”
“Why would it do that? That’s crazy.”
“So it was determined to be later. Mad as a stoned sackfly.”
“Continue.”
“It had been altered. Augmented.”
“A Rel.” The translator didn’t catch the disbelief in the shorter one’s voice, but Wink heard it clearly enough. He was getting better at that, too.
“Sped up, increased strength, and drugged to make it brave.”
The shorter one didn’t speak to that, only waited.
“Steel claws had been grafted onto its paws.”
The shorter one finally got the direction of the story. “You pull my fur.”
“Not even a single hair. It came here to fight. Prey.”
“Fuck
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