Desperate Measures Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty

July 23, 2230, Solar System, En Route UTC Space Fleet Base Penglai

Despite her family’s wealth, Jia, like most people, spent her life consuming mostly artificial meat, whether prepared or printed.

Her mother enjoyed the occasional ostentatious display of serving and eating real meat, but she was suddenly concerned about wasting money when there wasn’t anyone around to impress except her daughters and husband.

A lifetime of eating artificial meat should have made her less sensitive to the vagaries of such products, but she could taste a difference in the meals prepared on the

Argo

. Those faint differences reminded her she was on a ship deep in space.

It hadn’t been so bad before, but she was already regretting not packing food on this trip.

Her current noodles’ textural irregularities were the day’s main complaint. She chewed quickly and swallowed, trying her best not to focus on the food and enjoy it for what it was. It was a long way to their destination.

Jia stared down at her tray on the galley table with a frown. Emma could run a diagnostic, or Lanara and her crew might be able to do something. Suffering for a week didn’t appeal. She looked at Erik, but he was happily munching on his beignet.

It didn’t make sense. The food hadn’t been this off during the Hunter mission.

Erik grinned from across the table after finishing off his pastry. “I can tell what you’re thinking.”

She eyed him. “You’ve developed psychic powers now?”

“Something like that, or we’ve just been together long enough that I can figure it out.” Erik placed her fingers on his temple. “You’re thinking, ‘Why doesn’t Erik hate his food as much as I do?’”

“I don’t…” she eyed the plate, “

hate

the food.”

Jia was surprised at how good Erik had become at anticipating her thoughts. The reciprocal wasn’t as true.

Erik nodded. “You don’t hate it, but there’s something off about it.”

She leaned forward, pointing at him. “Exactly!”

Erik chuckled. “There isn’t. It’s you. The problem is psychological.”

Jia stared at him, then her plate, and back at him. “Huh? What do you mean, it’s psychological? There’s clearly something different about the food on the ship, and it’s more pronounced this trip than the last time.”

He gestured at her bowl. “There might be some slight differences between the raw materials and those from meals we get in restaurants, but probably not much, if any, compared to the stuff you buy for your home. We eat out a lot, so there’s less printed food, but we both also eat a lot of printed food at home. It’s not the food or the preparation. It’s because you’re trapped in this bucket until we get to Penglai, and then trapped in it or another bucket until we get to Alpha Centauri.”

“The trip there won’t take that long,” Jia muttered.

“To the system, yes, but we can’t pop out in orbit. We better work this out now because there are a lot more printed noodles in your future.”

“But it’s getting worse.” Jia tapped a finger on the table. “Tasting worse. I don’t think it’s just in my head. Are you sure you’re just not ignoring it because you used to eat rations? Lanara’s the one putting in the raw material requests. Maybe she decided to go cheap because of some efficiency thing. You know, use food that’s not as good for humans, but it’ll save 0.27 percent power when you use the printers.”

“That does sound like something she’d do.” Erik scratched his chin, thinking about the suggestion. “But I don’t believe that’s it. It’s in your head, Jia.”

Emma materialized next to the table in a chef’s coat, with a toque perched atop her head. “Erik is correct. While the highest-quality materials aren’t being purchased, they are generally of good quality, and in some cases, superior to what you two consume in your apartments. There’s no evidence there’s been any change to the food printers or other relevant systems, based on system reports.”

With that, she retracted her hologram. Jia had stopped caring about Emma’s omnipresence a long time ago. If anything, it was a comfort and made it easier to relax.

“We used to call this the taste curve in the Army, but it hit the Fleet guys even harder.” Erik dusted crumbs off his hands. “It might take a good year or two depending on how much travel we do for you not to suffer from it, but I’m guessing it’s more about the new crew. They’re what’s causing your food to taste worse. When you’re trapped on a bucket in space, anything that makes you uncomfortable can make everything seem that much worse.”

Jia thought that over. It made sense, and Emma could be mischievous, but this wasn’t a situation where she would lie. Coming to terms with the new crew members might help.

“Agent Devereaux doesn’t seem to like you much,” Jia mumbled. “I don’t know if she cares for me either. I’ve barely talked to her. She’s keeping to her cabin, and we’ve only seen each other in passing. I think she’s trying to maintain different hours than the rest of us.”

Erik shrugged. “If I got broken up about everyone who doesn’t like me, it’d be a sad life. At least she’s not trying to kill me. I can come back from everything but that.”

“She’s not trying to kill you

yet

.” Jia set her chopsticks down. Irritation was a disgusting spice.

“Alina knows what she’s doing,” Erik replied. “We just need time to earn Anne’s respect. This is as weird for her as it is for us. I’m sure that as a ghost, she’s used to dealing with informants and all sorts of non-ID personnel, but that’s not the same thing as shipping out with them and having to follow their orders.”

“I suppose, but she could be more professional about it—and professional can mean strange things for ID agents, judging by Alina and Kalei.”

“She probably thinks the same thing about us, but then again, we get the results we do because we’re not standard-issue cops, soldiers, or ghosts.”

Jia leaned back. “I know we have time before we get to the base, and she’ll calm down, but I feel she started off our relationship on the wrong foot.”

“We should do something about that. Like you said, we have plenty of time, so it doesn’t matter if we waste some of it.” Erik rubbed his chin. “But what to do? The best thing in times like this is something fun to take everyone’s mind off the flight.”

Jia sighed. “The nano-AR room isn’t big enough for everyone, even with tricks. That cuts out a lot of possibilities. I don’t think eating together will be enough, especially when most of us aren’t eating at the same times.”

“Not food. Something more active.” Erik shook his head. “We need something we’re all doing together, something that pushes us out of our comfort zones so we’re forced to mix, and we can’t retreat to hang out with the people we already know. If we weren’t already in space, I’d say we should all hit a bar together.”

“That’s not practical.”

“Someone needs to invent roving bar ships.” Erik nodded at Jia. “This cuts both ways. It’s not like you’re going out of your way to talk to the fresh meat, either.”

Jia huffed. “And you are?”

“I’ve talked to Kant a little. Turns out he’s a vet, too.” Erik laughed. “I assumed assault infantry, but he was a combat engineer. He did some quick tours and then joined the ID. Nice enough guy despite looking like a changeling customized for bar fights.”

Jia nodded. “He seemed that way to me, too. I did briefly run into Wei the other day. He lamented that we haven’t had a party. Lanara made it very clear he couldn’t drink yet, but I’m sure he’d love your roving bar ship plan.”

Erik chuckled. “It’s not like we’re going to lock him up if he has the system produce alcohol. Did she do something?”

“From what Wei indicated, she…” Jia grimaced at the memory. “She suggested using his blood as a lubricant if he pissed her off.”

“She asked for the help, and now she’s grouchy about having to bring them up to speed.” Erik laughed. “That’s so her. What about the woman?”

Jia shook her head. “I’ve gotten a couple of sentences out of her, but I think she’s more shy than anything. A shy engineer better with machines than people isn’t a shocking anomaly.”

Erik snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. I’ve got the perfect solution that doesn’t involve everyone getting drunk.”

“What?” Jia asked, letting her dubiousness show on her face.

“It was something I used to do with my unit all the time.”

“I thought this plan didn’t involve alcohol?”

“It doesn’t. It’s a great way to break the ice, and no pressure or risk of injury unless you’re a total moron. It’s also something that won’t take a lot of space.” Erik looked around the galley. “It’s a bit too cramped here, but we can use the cargo bay to have our fun and be comfortable.”

“The cargo bay?” Jia asked, trying to imagine the possibilities.

Knowing Erik and what he’d said, she assumed it was some sort of physical activity, but he obviously wouldn’t want sparring matches. Janessa and Malcolm wouldn’t stand a chance, and Lanara would stab anyone who tried to hit her. Later, she’d probably cut the gravity and oxygen to their cabin.

Something grander and theoretically less violent like a sports match wasn’t practical aboard the

Argo

. There was space in the cargo bay, but with the flitters, scout bikes, exoskeletons, and supplies, there wasn’t enough room left for any decent game.

If they could use all three dimensions, it would be different. Jia could have gotten behind a sphere ball match, but they didn’t have enough players. Also, that activity would end with Lanara stabbing someone or suffocating them.

“Yeah.” Erik nodded, more to himself than Jia. “The cargo bay’s perfect for what I have in mind.”

Jia’s brow lifted. “Why do I get nervous when you say there’s no risk of injury unless someone’s a total moron?”

Erik pushed off the table and stood. “We just need to print up a board and some darts.”

“Oh.” Jia blinked. “Darts. That shouldn’t end with any stabbings.”

Erik stopped on his way to the door and looked over his shoulder. “Stabbings?”