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The Captain's Heart CH 94
🕑 Added 2025-04-10 13:00:02 +0000 UTCJeremy looked into the distance of the hallway. He’d been so sure that with him not on the ship, he’d be able to walk to the door, but the simple idea those quarters were his triggered the programming and the best he could do was freeze in place. He didn’t let this defeat bring him down. He’d known it was a possibility. And now he knew what he started with. He could push ahead with further visits. He had a few days until the ship prepared to leave; until he would be back.
He turned around and headed to work. Even at station, the Engineer required they remained at their post if they hadn’t asked for time off.
*
“We’re back,” a technician among those who had taken the first lunch called. “You six can go eat.”
Jeremy completed his checks, made notes of the sectors he thought needed to be paid attention to for whoever took over his boards in his absence, then joined the others heading out.
“You eating with us today?” Prertiros asked.
“At the eatery?” he replied, started by the question, and the other chuckled.
“Unless you prefer a restaurant. Thuruk can probably convince one of the others to look after our boards for the length of time it’ll take to get served and eat.”
“And if the Engineer checks in while we’re gone?”
“He’s ground side,” Prertiros replied.
“And you think that’s going to stop him?”
“It’s okay,” Jeremy said, knowing the argument was playful, but still having trouble standing it. And having even more trouble with the idea of a room busy with people, with them. He’d found the least traveled halls to get to engineering because he could only handle small groups.
The larger the groups, the easier it was for one of his agent to hide among them, the programming insisted, and he’d yet to find a way around it.
“I prepared my food before the shift. I don’t want it to go to waste.”
“Then we’ll see you in a bit,” Prertiros said before he and the others took the intersection toward the eatery and Jeremy forced himself to walk, not flee, to his quarters.
*
He’d just put the plate with his steak drenched in a peppery sauce with the side of roasted vegetables covered with butter by his cup of coffee when the door buzzed.
He fought the panic.
Whoever this was, they wouldn’t have announced themselves if they planned on invading his safe space.
He activated the intercom. “Yes?”
“Jeremy, it’s Thuruk. I’m with the others. Can we come in?”
He almost unlocked the door.
What others? Was his friend warning him he was being coerced?
He forced the panic down.
“Who’s with you?”
“Me,” Prertiros said, then the other technicians announced themselves.
Invasion! The programming screamed. He had sent them to capture him, to use him, to—
“Wh—why do you want to come in?”
“I know you aren’t yet comfortable around a lot of people, so we thought we’d come eat with you.”
Lies!
“I don’t have food for the five of you.”
Thuruk chuckled. “We grabbed meals to go. You don’t have to worry about feeding us.”
Lies! The programming said. They can’t do that. The food is only served there.
As far as he knew. He’d never asked. And he’d never paid attention if anyone there left with a box of food.
And they were his friends and coworkers.
His finger hesitated over the unlock, the programming coming up with reasons after reasons why this was a mistake.
He breathed, envisioned how the components of an anti-matter containment were put together. He unlocked the door.
It opened, and they stayed on the other side. Thuruk looking at him, ears tilted with concern.
“Come in,” Jeremy said. “Sorry about not being faster.” He tapped the side of his head. “It’s not liking that I’m letting anyone else here.”
“We can go back—”
“No, come in.” He motioned for them to enter. “It’s about time this table was fully occupied.”
After a slight hesitation, they joined him at the table. Three to one side, Thuruk and Prertiros on each end, leaving Jeremy alone on his, and feeling better for not being crowded.
They hurried to unfold the containers they brought and place covered bowls on the place mat they became. A mix of meats and sauces.
“What’s that?” Technician Lrorfremir Asurdien ask, motioning to Jeremy as he was cutting a piece of his steak.
“It’s a steak. Basically, what the meat was before it was cut up and sliced into what you’re eating.”
The woman chuckled. “I know what meats are. I mean, what you’re holding.”
He looked at his utensils. He’d picked up eating with them again so easily, he’d forgotten that with their claws as eating instruments. They wouldn’t know about them.
“That’s a fork. This is a knife.”
“That doesn’t look useful in a fight,” Technician Grakiranirakarin sel Nirag pointed out. Thuruk was mouthing a word, which Jeremy realized was fork. Then realized he hadn’t thought about them not having an equivalent in their language, or that they’d know what a knife was.
“I didn’t think you used knives, with your claws. This isn’t for combat. It’s to cut my food. Without claws, we need help.”
“Then why not prepare your food like we do?” Prertiros asked, cutting off the other technician’s reply.
He shrugged. “Culture, I guess. Even when I printed my meals, it was like this. It cooks differently depending on how thick it is, affects the tastes somewhat.”
“Why pour the sauce over it?” Technician Erkrimtorim Frisgariak asked.
He shrugged again. “We have dishes where we dunk our food in a sauce like you do, but many of them have the sauce over them. Cultural again, I’d say.”
“Can I taste it?” Thuruk asked, cube of meat on a claw.
“Sure.”
He ran it over, then popped it in his mouth. “Tastes like rarshirak.”
“That’s the spice I used. It’s as close as I can get to pepper. Not as hot, but I didn’t feel like going all burn with this.”
They set to eat, talking about the work, their families, exchanging stories. Jeremy mostly listened to those. His attempts at joining in were cut short by the programming warning him they were trying to learn his secrets, how to hurt him.
When he was done, they were about three-quarter of the way through their food; he went for dessert, returning with a slice of what, once he perfected it, would be pie. For the moment, it was still mostly sweet fruit soup between two crusts, which turned into crusts drenched in the fruity liquid once he ladled it on top.
Ice cream had to be the next thing he tried to work out.
He was stared at when he sat back at the table with it.
“This is a spoon,” he said preemptively.
“And that?” Technician Grakiranirakarin sel Nirag pointed to his plate.
“Well, not perfected yet. It will be a fruit pie once I figure out how to get the filling to be firm. The way I remember them being made, sugar was part of it, but that isn’t something you guys have. Doromin is the closest I found. It’s sweet, a lot like honey, it’s liquid, so I haven’t worked out how to adjust it. It’s still good, though.”
Thuruk had another chunk of meat at the end of a claw.
Jeremy chuckled. “I don’t know how well it’ll go with meat, but go ahead.”
A swipe, popped it into his muzzle, and he was gagging, then draining his glass. “That is vile.” He popped sauce dunked meat cubes in a hurry. “I’m sorry, Jeremy, but I don’t know how you can eat that. It’s like… like drinking Doromin straight up.”
The other made faces, except for Technician Lrorfremir Asurdien, who popped a cylinder of meat in her mouth. She’d run it into the pie juices while Thuruk was gagging.
“It’s not that bad,” she said. “Definitely on the sweeter side.” She ran another chunk of meat through it. “But not horrible.” She contemplated the dish. “I’d be curious to try it once it is a pie.” She pronounced the English word slowly.
The others looked at her, horrified.
“What is wrong with your tastebuds?” Prertiros demanded.
She chuckled. “Nothing. Seems I just like different things that you.”
“That isn’t different,” Thuruk said, his tongue out like the taste could float away. “It’s outright alien.”
“I am an alien,” Jeremy said, chuckling, and the others laughed.
His tablet buzzed, and he answered it.
“Technician Jeremy,” the Engineer said. “You are not at your console, are you ill?”
Silence fell, and the others looked horrified. Jeremy wasn’t sure how to respond, but decided that anything other than the truth would make things worse.
“Some of the technicians decided to eat with me in my quarters. We lost track of the time.”
“I see.”
He readied to add the ways in which this was helping him to mitigate the coming reproach.
“Please hurry. It’s inconsiderate of the other technicians to leave them with your work past the end of your scheduled meal, without at least informing them of the delay.”
The relief was palpable, and they hurried to finish eating.
*
He turned into the hallway instead of continuing to his quarters. Another attempt on the way back. He didn’t have so long before he was back that he could listen to the programming telling him how bad of an idea this was. He needed to attempt this each chance he got.
He didn’t make it much further again. The quarters would be empty. It was safe to approach.
What if he was wrong? The programming whispered. What if this was all a ploy to get him to the door so he could snatch him?
The programming was wrong, but he couldn’t overcome it.
He turned just as sounds rose from the closest intersection. The roar of battle. That made it the leisure alley. The one where his weight machine was. The one he’d been meaning to inspect.
It will be filled with them, the programming warned.
Except they were at station. Whoever was watching the ballad was probably doing so alone, or with a few friends at most, and they wouldn’t notice him. The small theater rooms in the alleys were blocked off from the rest to keep the illumination from interfering.
He pushed past the fear and entered it. The room with his machine was unoccupied. He didn’t have his tools, which meant he couldn’t open it up to check how the components were holding up, but he had his tablet, so he could run it through its diagnosis sequences.
He opened the panel and attacked his tablet with the hardline. He was glad he’d made the new design with a wireless connection.
*
He was halfway through the third set of diagnostic checks when the voice registered.
“You have to see it. It’s unusual, and I don’t know if it’s really doing anything for me, but it’s better than ending up face in the mat every time.”
A man, approaching. He ignored the yell of ‘threat’ the programming screamed. One person wasn’t going to do anything.
“That’s part of exercising, you know,” another man replied.
Two of them made Jeremy pause.
They probably weren’t coming his way, just passing through the alley. Or maybe they’d been watching the ballad. He hadn’t realized it was no longer playing.
“It doesn’t feel like exercising when no matter who I exercise with, I alway end up in the mat. I’m not a hunter. So I don’t think I should have to hurt like that.”
The pair turned into the room and stopped.
The one on the right was short, about Jeremy’s height, and his cream-colored fur had a fluffiness to it that made him look like he had a layer of fat over the constant Kelsirian muscular bodies. The other was more than a head taller and the short gray fur made the well-defined muscles visible.
Two could be a problem. He could outrun one, but two, one could be a distraction while the other jumped him.
“You didn’t tell me you had an alien on the ship,” the tall, muscular one said, a smile forming.
“That’s Technician Jeremy Bradshaw,” the other said. “He’s the one who built the machine.”
The tall one walked in Jeremy’s direction. “No wonder you’re using it. Can you tell him to show me how to use it, too?”
“That isn’t what it’s about, Murro.”
“Oh, it isn’t?” the smile turned into a grin. “Then maybe I need to see if it can serve a new function.”
“Murro, stop. He isn’t like us.”
“Oh, I can see that.” The man looked him up and down, the gaze slowing at his crotch. “I want to see how different he is in there.”
Jeremy had to run.
The programming was silent because he understood the threat. So he had to run. But he couldn’t move.
The hand reached for his crotch, the leer clear in the eyes, the angle of the ear, in the smile.
If he didn’t run, Jeremy would—
The man wasn’t there anymore.
“I told you to stop,” the other said.
In his peripheral vision, the smaller one had the taller one against the wall, arm against his throat.
“Hey, no need to get aggressive,” the other said, grinning, hands up. “I wasn’t going to hurt him or anything.”
“Yes, you were,” the smaller one growled. “And you would have regretted it. He’s the captain’s Heart.”
“Really? A captain? You want me to believe he’d have that as a Heart? You should have said he was your Heart. That I’d have believed. When did you stop sharing?”
The groan was loud. “This isn’t about me. How can you be so thick? He isn’t Kelsirian. His species isn’t like us.”
“Then maybe he shouldn’t be on a Kelsirian ship?”
“What, you’d let a Ridoshi fuck you if you were on their ship?”
“I don’t know. Are they good fucks?”
“How about they aren’t even like us?”
“I thought you space folks were all about inclusion.”
“Respect. That’s what being out here taught me. That other species aren’t like me, but they still deserve the same respect I’d give my family and my crewmates and my friends.” He stepped away. “So how about I show you the little respect you used to merit and tell you to get the fuck off the ship.”
“Now, come on, Scarif, don’t be like that, I didn’t—”
“If you want any chance of salvaging what’s left of the friendship you are raking yours claws through Murrostonikaliker Jrodelsorimal. You are going to walk away right now.”
The tall one looked at the smaller one in shock. “Over that?” He pointed at Jeremy.
“No, over your utter lack of respect for anyone who isn’t like you. Get off the ship before I call a hunter to take you off it.”
The tall one threw his arms in the air and walked away. “What the fuck happened to you?”
“I grew up,” the smaller one said when the other had left the room. He faced Jeremy, staying by the wall. “Are you okay? I’m sorry for his behavior. I didn’t…. I didn’t think. When I saw you, I should have pulled him away.”
Was he okay?
Was the guy joking?
How could he be okay? He’d almost been raped by one of them.
They warned you, the programming whispered.
Oh, shut the fuck up.
“I think I should go. You probably don’t want any of us around right now.”
“Wait,” Jeremy called as the man turned. “Thank you.”
“I shouldn’t have let it get that far to start with.”
“But you stopped it when I couldn’t. So thank you. You were coming here to show him my weight machine. You’re the one who asked I keep it here.”
“Yes, I’ve been using it daily, on my way to and from work.”
“Does it help? Part of what makes it work for me, is because of my endurance and pushing through it.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I raised the weighs until I felt it, then do each exercise a few of times.”
Jeremy looked at his tablet. “Do you mind if I access your report? Seeing what you’ve been doing, I might be able to help you get more out of the exercises.”
“Really? You’d do that for me?”
Jeremy chuckled. “You kept me from being raped. It is the least I can do.”
Outline section
During lunch Jeremy returns to his room rather than head to the galley; part of it is the crowd, and part of it is the fact Gral might be in there... but mostly it’s because he’s been making a lot of progress in this cooking thing. He won’t be switching positions from engineering to the galley anytime soon, but getting a sense of kelsirian food from the inside out while twisting some of the recipes into something resembling human cuisine has been enjoyable.
In the middle of this meal, he gets a surprise knock at the door... and it’s Thuruk. Because yes, the fact that Jeremy is recovering from trauma is no excuse for him to stop socializing. Jeremy will take it with a shrug of Thuruk being Thuruk, and warn them that he might not have enough food for everybody. That’s OK, they brought their own.
Of course, just because they brought their own doesn’t mean they don’t poke around the kitchen. The contraption that Jeremy has constructed for his coffee machine by this point is a star attraction; Jeremy swears it’s just an alpha build at this point, as he might not be able to make one as pretty and compact as a commercial model he knows he can do better than THAT mess with just a few hours of in one of the workshops. He just needs to sketch it all out first.
Them someone discovers the attempt at pie. Which is a day old leaky mess by now. The pie crust was easy enough to adapt from kelsirian recipes, but filling... kelsirian’s don’t do fruit pies. Fruit for them is mostly a seasoning for their meat, so while they have a concept of pectin it’s all for making jams and preserves, not baking it in a pastry.
Of course, when Jeremy tells them it’s not only a horrible pie in principle but that kelsirian’s likely wouldn’t like it when it’s made good, they of course all need to try it. Most of them agree that if this is what humans consider desert they’ll be skipping the bakery if they’re ever allowed onto a human station for shore leave.
For the sake of being contrary, and keeping the scene going, at least one of them should like it. Likely not Thuruk, we need to develop some of the other techs. Since both the other techs and Jeremy seem to think this wonderful thing isn’t very good, he’ll go ahead and help himself. Some jokes might be made that if he continues to inhale sweets like that he’ll be as round as he’s tall in a few years. Laughter will be had.
And yeah... laughter. That’s something Jeremy has been missing up until now. Take good old Thuruk to realize it would take more than just sessions with a mentalist to get through this.
Addition
Takes place while the ship is at station at Kelser.
Dealing with the public weight machine
another progression of Jeremy dealing with Kelsirians in general. as well as continuing with his cooking. as you see, the pie was in the outline, as was a Kelsirian with a sweet tooth. that one's about making sure they aren't monolitic as a species as well as a culture, which Draft 0 definitely has them as.
the scene with the weight machine was something I needed to deal with, both as part of it's evolution and introducing a new character to Jeremy's circle of friends. the interaction was a suggestion from my co-scripter, after reacing the monday chapters, although I took it in a slightly more extreme direction than he imagined.
Comments
Marcwolf
Really glad that the crew is helping Jeremy as a friend... and that he is also working on ways to break down the programming... esp in stressful situations
