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Vanguard Remake
🕑 Added 2025-03-27 02:06:14 +0000 UTC2k words
***
“This is the best I have on hand, ma’am,” Jim informed, setting the Ottoman down and wiping his brow. “Hope it’s to your satisfaction.”
“It will do.”
Samiha, undeterred, turned and planted her butt on the footstool, cocking her head as Cadell held back a snicker. She pulled her seat as far to the side as she could so he could squeeze into the booth.
The owner laid out some laminated menus before them, taking a notepad from his pocket. Cadell had expected everything to be digitised, but it seemed Jim preferred a traditional approach to eating out. “Either of you like something to drink?” he asked. “Wines and cocktails are on the other side.”
“I’ll just take a beer,” Cadell said.
“Sure, and for you, ma’am?”
“I…” Samiha squinted her eyes and lifted the menu to her beak, eyes flicking from left to right. “What is this… soda… water?”
“It’s like water but all fizzed up,” Cadell explained. “Full of bubbles and carbs and stuff like that.”
“I did not know water had alternatives,” Samiha muttered. “I will try one of those, then.”
“Coming right up,” Jim said, heading off toward the kitchen. For the first time since setting off from the quadrant, Cadell and Samiha were really alone together. The crowds of people, the noises of civilisation, and the simple act of walking had kept them occupied, but now they were sectioned off from the torus with nothing else to focus on but each other, Cadell almost hoping the owner would hurry up and come back. He imagined Samiha was of the same mind.
“So, uh, you can read our language?” Cadell began, gesturing at her menu. He was groping for something to talk about, but Samiha answered him all the same.
“Yes. Having a passable understanding of human script is required for anyone wanting to come aboard the Hub. Your rules for literature are very confusing,” she added. “Some of your words are so long, but many of your characters are silent, except for when seemingly random exceptions apply. It is inefficient, and arbitrary. I much prefer speaking it, as your vocal range is far more limited than ours.”
“I noticed you and Kazlu are downright fluent,” Cadell replied. “Shaliyya especially, she talks like she’s been speaking English all her life, but I notice that when you speak, there’s this kind of musical quality to it, like you’re speaking through a vocaliser or something.”
“The Kith’sla learned your language through untraditional means,” she explained. “During first contact between our species, she was one of the few Balokarids to have a prototype translator installed into her brain.” She mimed the side of her head, where the neck and jaw meet. “It allowed fluent communication between her and the human officers, but it was later discovered that it came at a significant cost to her long-term health.”
“Did her body reject it? I heard that happens to some people who get implants for the first time.”
“Yes, and because of the haste of your scientists, it cannot be removed without risking permanent brain damage. She and the other Balokarids who got the implant have visibly aged since then, and I wouldn’t be surprised if their feathers start falling out soon.”
Cadell tried to remember if he’d seen any visible sign that Shaliyya had been sick, but couldn’t. She must be tougher than she looked, either that or she hid it well. “Good thing you and Kazlu did it the hard way,” Cadell noted, trying to view it in a different light.
Samiha gave him an unenthusiastic look, but his attention was quickly diverted when Jim came back with their drinks, Cadell taking a quick swig of his beer that was probably a little too eager to be considered polite. Jim also set down a plate of bread between them, explaining that it was compliments from the kitchen. Cadell made to say it wasn’t necessary, but he was waved off.
“Consider it a treat for our first non-human customer,” Jim retorted, more good-natured than he’d given him credit for. “Now are we all ready to order?”
“I’ll have the porterhouse,” Cadell said, reading it off the special section. It was pricey, but like Samiha had said, better to live it up while they had the chance. Once more she took her time narrowing her eyes against the menu, her beak opening and closing as she muttered the words under her breath.
“I have no idea what any of this is,” she eventually said. “What is a wagyu?”
“It’s beef,” Cadell said, then quickly added: “Which comes from an Earth animal, and it’s served with beer-battered potato chips.”
“And salad, if you’re feeling green,” Jim added.
“How big is the portion?”
Jim mimed with his hands, Samiha snapping her beak in shock. “That’s it? Don’t you have anything bigger?”
“She’s got an appetite,” Cadell explained, Samiha shooting him a frown. “You should see her in the mess. Eats for three sometimes.”
“In that case, how about the two-for-one deal?” Jim suggested. “I’ll tell the cooks to put it on the one plate for you.”
“That will do,” Samiha confirmed. Jim wrote down their order and made for the kitchen. With nothing else to occupy herself, Samiha reached for her drink, flicking the cap off with her thumb. She opened her beak, Cadell getting a look at the dark gums that made up the inlining, Samiha upending the lid onto the tip of her pointed tongue.
She took a small mouthful, swirling it in her mouth before swallowing.
“Good?” he asked.
“The flavour is… unusual,” she replied, nodding her approval. She took another swig, bigger this time, upending nearly half the bottle, Cadell lifting an amused brow as he watched. A visible lump travelled down her neck as she swallowed, then after a few moments, her eyes lit up, but not because of the taste.
She placed the bottle back on the table, then held her hand to her chest, as if she was expecting to hiccup. Instead, the alien lurched forward as she burped into his face, the alien clutching the tip of her beak shut, a look of horror on her face as though she’d just committed some terrible crime.
Cadell chuckled despite the foul smell in the air, waving a hand to dispel it as Samiha stared accusingly at the bottle. “I told you it was full of bubbles,” he said.
“Indeed you did,” she replied, letting slip a rare grin. He’d never seen her emote so much before, and her belch went some way to diffusing the tension. Maybe there was a person under all that brawn after all.
“What are these things?” Samiha prompted, gesturing to the complimentary bread.
“That’s garlic bread. Hope I don’t have to explain what’s in it.”
“This better not make me gaseous.”
“It won’t, promise. Try some, it’s always good no matter who makes it.”
She lifted a piece, taking a crunchy bite. He noted that she didn’t chew with her mouth closed – couldn’t in fact, as her beak and teeth were entwined, and she only gave it a few chews before swallowing pieces whole that any human would have to chop into bits first.
Cadell took his own slice, tasting the tinge of garlic on his tongue. The bread had just the right amount of crunch, and he ate eagerly. He smiled when Samiha failed to mask her own look of approval, reaching for her second piece already. He supposed these breads were bite sizes to someone of her size.
“This garlic stings the roof of my mouth,” Samiha noted between swallows. “Reminds me of boiled Cashi. I like it.”
“Told you,” Cadell replied. “Should have asked before, but what’s Balokarid cuisine like? You guys’ meat-eaters?”
“We are omnivores,” she said. “but we do not focus so much on meats like humans do. We treat them as more of a side. Seeing a whole establishment entirely devoted to animal cuts is…” She glanced around the restaurant. “Unusual. Our palates are more focused on plants, root vegetables, using seasonings from the homeworld to create flavours.”
“Makes sense, considering how much you like your… reagents,” he said, trying to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t offend. “It’d be nice to try some alien dishes at some point. Maybe one day you guys can have your own wedge to live in.”
“Thought you disapproved of our medications?” Samiha asked, taking a cautious sip of her water.
“Just trying to keep an open mind.”
“Living on a station full of humans,” Samiha mused, rubbing the spot above her left eye. “I think I prefer the spaces on our carriers. There’s no gravity, but at least I can float through a doorway without bumping my head.”
“I can hear a lot of hate in your voice,” Cadell noted. “Every time you say humans, you always start grittin’ your teeth, and I still don’t know why that is.”
“Why?” Samiha asked, again through gritted teeth. “I’ll tell you why. When my parents left the homeworld to call Dur’shala our home, it was humans who drove us out. We fled through space, and still we were hunted down by humans. And when we lost people, when I lost…” Her eyes trailed to the floor, then returned to his. “We were dragged into a slaughter, again by humans, and now we are all forced to fell indebted to you, and work alongside you with no hard feelings.”
“We weren’t the ones who destroyed your colony,” Cadell explained. “That was the Confederacy, the Alliance are the ones tryin’ to break their hold on the Reaches.”
“Confederate, Alliance, it’s all the same to me,” Samiha replied, folding her arms over her chest. “You are two waring, alien Clans that are all too willing to bring us into your conflict. I won’t deny that without the Hub’s support, all would have been lost, and I’m grateful for their help, but ever since our people have met yours, war and death have followed us every step of the way. You asked why I hate your kind, but I doubt you’d feel any different, if you’d been on the receiving end of a Balokarid invasion.”
Cadell leaned back on the cushion, staring at the drink in his hands. No wonder she’d been so hostile since day one – in her mind, humans were the source of all her woes. She seemed to have lost someone or multiple someone’s during the colony’s destruction, but who they were, she didn’t say, but regardless, having to work alongside three aliens must have been frustrating and confusing for her.
His antagonising of her had done nothing but cement her hatred, and translate it to him directly. Maybe she’d been right to resent his authority, especially after he’d begun to antagonise her where he could.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” he began. Samiha looked disinterested, but he pushed through. “but you’re wrong when you say that we’re all just the same to you. I-I know that I haven’t exactly been helpin’ that image along,” he stammered. “but look at it this way. Dur’shala’s not the first planet the UEC have taken over by force. You’ve been at war with them for, what, a couple years? The Outer Reaches has been stuck under their thumb for the last couple hundred years. And it’s only because of the Hub that we’ve started to fight back for the past ten. The Outer Reaches haven’t had any massacres like what you went through thanks to the Hub’s coordination, and you can count on that protection being extended to Balokar. The Alliance is trying to make a difference, for both your race and mine. Shaliyya can see that, so why can’t you?”
Samiha shot him a thoughtful glance, taking another swig of her drink before replying.
“I… had not considered your history with the UEC,” she eventually conceded. “Your planets are far closer to theirs than Dur’shala was, you probably experience raids from their Clan all year round.”
“It’s not as often as you might think,” Cadell said. “Travellin’ through space takes a long time, even with the fastest ships on hand. It takes months or years to get a force from one system to another, and a lot can change in that time. That’s why the Folium Nebula was the first real ship-to-ship battle since the war began, the fact all those fleets converged was really just by extreme chance.”
“Still, both of our people have suffered at the hands of the UEC,” Samiha said. “I will try to keep that in mind from now on. And, about how I treated you before…”
“Forget about it,” he said before she could finish. “I get where you’re comin’ from. I wouldn’t be too happy with me either if I was in your place, expected to just drop everything and get along with an alien.”
“A pragmatic outlook,” Samiha mused. “Perhaps there’s a shred of a Kith’sla in you after all.”
Cadell felt like they’d reached a level of understanding, however brief it might be. They were both at fault for ending up out here, potentially kicked off the program, and the time for pointing fingers was long gone.
