Day 00014 Mission Nilex
Ayla opened her eyes and drew a slow breath as vivid images clung to her memory. Curious, she remained relaxed and heavy on the sleeping bunk and allowed her inner eye to roam. With mild surprise, she found she could identify the beginning of the dream.
It had started with her walking along the trail in the Garden until she came to the grass clearing with the Oak tree. But there were two Oak trees before her—one and the same Tree, existing in the same place at the same time.
Two simultaneous visions.
One Tree stood tall, but its green foliage appeared different from what Ayla remembered. At first, she didn't understand what she was seeing. The foliage was dotted all over with brown. Then her heart skipped a beat.
Acorns! The Tree was full of acorns!
She'd wanted to go closer, to reach out and touch one, but the vision receded, allowing the second vision to come to the fore. The Oak tree's splayed roots, ripped from the soil. Ayla's heart sank, but she clung to hope, for she could still see the first Tree standing tall. But the roots of the fallen Tree pulled at her, the vision becoming stronger, drawing her closer until they turned into fingers.
A hand. Gareth's hand. Holding seven acorns in his palm.
Ayla remembered that day. She'd felt the warm sunshine and the wind from the lake blowing across Gareth's face. As she looked at the acorns, the hand faded into his gloved hand. Her surroundings turned into darkness and the dry air of a suit. The sound of gale winds and scraping ash echoed outside her helmet as she gazed at seven acorns glowing in her headlight. Yet the first seven were still visible underneath the vision she saw.
Two sets of acorns, held in the same hand, locked in the same space in time...
She looked up, and she was back in the Garden again. Across the grass, the two Oak trees shimmered in and out of focus. The fallen Oak's roots seemed to beckon without moving, like the fingers of a hand. Then it faded into the other vision of it: covered in acorns, it stood tall and healthy. Back and forth, fallen and tall, fallen and tall...
A wind started blowing as Ayla stood there at the edge of the clearing. It surged into a force so strong she had to protect her eyes with her arm, and everything faded to black silence. As she lowered her arm and looked up, she found the eyes of the Goddess gazing at her from the darkness. Then the night sky filled with stars and a white, bright, shining shard—a sword.
That was the image that remained in Ayla's mind when she awoke, filling her with pause.
With a long yawn, she stretched the dead weight and stiffness out of her limbs and rubbed her eyes.
Strange. She wasn't sore or stiff as she'd expected from yesterday's strenuous labor. Sitting up, she swung her feet to the pad on the floor, arched her back and shoulders, and turned her head several times, testing her body. Not a twinge from her torn shoulder, either. She felt as good as new.
But everything felt strange. It was too quiet, and the dream bothered her. It was rare for her to remember an entire dream. It was as if it had been trying to tell her something. Or was it her Gift trying to tell her something? As she dressed and got herself ready for the work ahead, she came to only one conclusion: the vision of the Oak tree bearing acorns was merely a reflection of her hopeful wishes.
The faint whisper of the air circulators was the only life Ayla could hear, reminding her of her family's absence. No sound of others breathing as they slept. No quiet footsteps or soft voices as they made ready for the day.
By the time she'd tied her Laaj, the aroma of baking bread wafted into the room, making her stomach growl. She smiled at the thought of Ahmid's cooking. Ahmid was no chef, but he could whip up a breakfast. She found him in the kitchen, sitting at an island counter sipping his tea. A plate and cup had been set out for her.
"Good morning, Ahmid." She took the stool opposite him at the counter. "You do know how to wake a girl up."
"Do I?" He seemed absentminded as he poured tea into her cup. "The idea of testing the hull breach alarm crossed my mind, but I didn't want to disturb the peace and quiet."
"How thoughtful of you." Ayla squinted an eye at him, her lips curving. "Not to mention it saved your life. For me, the smell of bread is a much better way of waking up."
Ahmid ignored her implied threat as he got up and went to the oven. Approving of what he saw through the window, he turned off the oven and grabbed a pair of mitts. He returned with the golden brown bread protruding through the square holes of a rotisserie basket and set it on the counter with a sigh.
"I can never get the amount right," he muttered as he cracked open the basket. The crust ripped free from the loaf and stayed stuck to the wire panel of the cover, a puff of steam escaping from its insides.
Ayla laughed. "How many times before you learn? Besides, you could have used a pan this time." The basket was meant for holding the dough in the center of the oven during zero-G.
Ahmid met her gaze, his eyes betraying his annoyance. "You're right. And if you'd been up, you could have prevented this disaster."
"Aah," Ayla reached across and gave him a friendly slap on the wrist. "Stop complaining. We can nibble while we wait for the loaf to cool down." She got up to get some berry jam and added, "Besides, I like warm crust."
Ahmid brought another plate over, held the wire panel over it with his mitt, and started punching pieces out of the holes with his finger. When Ayla returned to her seat and slid the soft bottle over, the plate was full of steaming, bite-sized squares of bread. Ahmid motioned at them, so she turned each piece of crust fluffy side up in neat rows.
Ayla loved this ritual. Ahmid took the jam and as he squeezed out a drizzle across all the squares, she pinched one after another to fill her plate without waiting for him to finish. He set the jam bottle aside, took a sip of his tea and helped himself to a number of squares.
Freshly baked bread and jam... Ayla closed her eyes as she savored her first bite, that momentary taste of warm heaven, first thing in the morning. Two squares and a sip of tea went down before she broke the silence.
"Will you talk to the Captain about where we will go?"
Ahmid swallowed his bite. "I've thought about this a lot, Ayla. I keep coming to the same conclusions."
Ayla paused with a piece of crust halfway to her mouth as a scene filled her mind. The Goddess Angel holding her sword up high, a glowing white shard cutting into the sky. Her eyes spoke of vengeance as shooting stars and comets fell from her feathered wings. Ayla shivered at the fierce emotion in those eyes.
Ahmid snapped his gaze to her, sensing her sudden fear. He reached across to place a calming hand on hers, his questioning eyes studying her with concern. Ayla feared having to answer the question. She couldn't explain what she'd seen when she didn't understand it herself. All she knew was that it came from a dream she had—was it a week ago? When the Gift gripped her with visions?
Still, she didn't need Ahmid worrying about her mental state. With effort, she brought her thoughts back to New Jordan. She had a bad feeling about it she couldn't justify, but she couldn't fault Ahmid's reasons for his decision, either.
She drew a deep breath. "But will you talk to him? At least hear his thoughts? See what he can offer?"
Ahmid studied her a moment longer, then withdrew his hand. "That I will do. Today, if the chance comes up. But for now, we concentrate on our task. A lot can go wrong with this job, the worst case being we kill the Tree. Even if everything goes right, that could still happen. This will be as traumatic to the Tree as falling down in the first place."
Ayla nodded, staring into space, picturing her morning dream as she chewed. How would she feel if the Tree didn't recover? How would Gareth feel? The thought of Gareth stirred the memories of their time in the Winter Garden.
And their kiss!
With a hurried swallow, she said, "Please, Ahmid," trying to suppress that swell of emotions, "make no decisions until after talking to him." She didn't need him picking up on those feelings.
"I promise, Ayla. I would love the idea of going somewhere the Citizens cannot find us. I just don't think there's any place far enough away. Even several hundred light-years wouldn't be far enough to be safe from being found. And I wouldn't presume to ask the Captain to go exploring that far away just for our sake. And, even if he did, how long would it take to find a suitable planet? Could we ask the Captain to spend so many years traveling so far, just to make us feel secure?"
Ayla found herself agreeing with Ahmid's logic, but it didn't dispel that nagging unease. "Still, it's worth it to talk to him."
Ahmid got up and patted her hand. "Of course, my dear. I cooked, you handle the dishes while I go get ready."
Ayla kept a tight hold on her emotions as Ahmid left the kitchen, but as soon as he was gone, she let her worry and fear unwind within her mind.
These dreams... visions... Is this my Gift or am I becoming Lost again?
∞
Gareth opened his eyes to a pain pinching his neck muscles. He shifted position to sit up straight in the chair.
«Report,» he thought, rubbing his nape.
«System repairs continue. Progress is on schedule. All other systems are green.
«No Human activity detected outside of the solar system.
«No communications directed at us detected.
«Our course continues unchanged. We will be leaving the densest area of the gas cloud in twenty hours. After that, I will adjust our course.
«Ahmid and Ayla are in the Garden. They are currently digging out excess dirt from the hole left by the Oak tree's roots.
«And finally, Captain, that pain in your neck is from sleeping ten hours in that chair.»
"I know that," responded Gareth sarcastically aloud. That he'd overslept came as no surprise—just that he would have preferred Canaisis waking him much sooner.
"Next time I suggest you go to bed, you should listen."
Canaisis' tone had a prim righteousness to it and Gareth could read between the lines. It spelled, I told you so.
He stood up, stretching his neck and shoulders, and thought, «Tell me something I don't know.»
«Harping seems to be the only way to get stubborn, grumpy old captains, who have a very flat learning curve when it comes to listening, to do what's best for them.»
With the pain in the neck easing, he started rubbing his forehead. «Look, harping is not the same as being called a Harpy. I didn't mean to imply I think of you as a half-woman, half-bird mythical creature with wings and claws.»
«I understand that. My learning curve is not flat.»
Gareth grunted with a shake of his head and instantly regretted it. While he massaged his nape again, he took stock of his body.
No fever or burning like last night. Just a sort of tingling in his bones. Satisfied, he took a step and his foot hit something that rolled aside on the floor. His empty glass. But snatching it up to place it on the desk was a mistake. Not only did his neck object to such sudden movements, but his head did too.
As he stood with palms pressed against the desktop to allow the wave of lightheadedness to pass, the memory of kissing Ayla flashed across his mind.
I shouldn't have let that happen. He didn't understand how he'd let that happen. There was a time when he never would have. When did that change?
Somehow, something had grown between Ayla and himself. Something he couldn't allow to exist. The pain that owned his heart had a name. This was his fault, his weakness—Ayla was innocent.
I don't want to hurt her or mislead her.
He'd been in a dark mood yesterday. He could blame some of it on the radiation poisoning, but not all of it. The thought of the damage to his ship and Canaisis had been balled up in a tight knot of anger. It still was, and he needed to make time for Canaisis—she'd have feelings of her own. They both needed to talk about what happened.
I'll make time tonight.
With that decision set aside, he remembered the mood he'd been in all day. Somehow, Ayla's presence had made it evaporate. Hearing her story broke his heart and caused a new anger to smolder within him.
No child should have to go through such an experience. No parent, either. He hoped the Garden's influence, and having someone to talk to, had brought Ayla some comfort. At least, she'd seemed more peaceful when they'd parted at the transit tube.
The kiss would also have contributed to that...
He would see her again today. The thought made him feel awkward, smothering the deep twinge of yearning for closeness. He had to suppress that yearning. There was no place for it here. But he would not skip out on helping Ayla and Ahmid raise the Tree. That wouldn't be right. It was his Tree.
But first, he needed to shake off his body's lag and these lingering emotions. «Canaisis, I'm going for a jog. Feel like playing tag? You're it.»
«Captain, you need to eat first.»
«I'll grab an energy bar, okay?»
«You should have a proper meal and allow it to digest first, Captain. You're still recovering.»
Gareth sighed. «I'll have two. Is that good enough for you?»
«I suppose it will have to do since you're too stubborn for your own good. I'll have the hangar arranged before you arrive. How many drones would you like?»
«How about a dozen?»
«Full contact, Captain?»
«Yes, they hurt less than rubber bullets.» He pulled on his cargo pants, thinking the extra pockets might come in handy with today's job coming up.
«You're getting soft.»
«No. Just old and grumpy, remember?»
«Yes, I do. It started the day I shot you.»
«We were supposed to be using lasers!»
«I specifically remember you asking for a surprise element to be factored into the game.»
«Oh, you surprised me alright. I have every right to be grumpy.»
Canaisis' voice took on a pleased smugness. «So you finally admit you've been grumpy.»
«I didn't say that.»
«The transcript of this conversation is on your desk if you want to check.»
«I know what I said, so I don't need to check.» He grabbed the ship boots with supple soles suited for exercise and started pulling them on.
«Maybe it wouldn't hurt to check, Captain. After all, you're old, grumpy, and forgetful.»
«I am not grumpy!»
«You sound grumpy to me.»
«Look! No rubber bullets this time. Got it?»
Canaisis' musical laughter echoed in his mind as he sighed and straightened himself. He was going to need a cup of double-strength tea for this.
∞
Gareth wasn't in the mood for energy bars so he stuffed two in a pocket and left the break room with the squeeze bulb of freshly brewed tea. With brisk strides he reached the transit tube, and it deposited him on the hangar floor level. By then, the tea had cooled down enough for him to sip half of it as he strode along the corridor.
Stepping out into Hangar 3, he eyed the arrangement of stacked cargo. A wall of containers stood before him with a wide opening. A tunnel led into the depths of the containers, occasional gaps in the temporary ceiling providing light. Just inside, he could see three paths to choose from.
Gareth unholstered his sidearm and checked its settings. No need for an accidental discharge—the targeting laser would suffice.
Canaisis and he had created this game of tag long ago. Twelve drones hid or moved in patrols inside the maze. Some drones were passive and others aggressive. His goal was to move as fast as possible through the maze and tag the drones with his laser. However, once he tagged a drone, it had to wait for a count of thirty before pursuing him. In their case, tagging him meant full impact if he couldn't tag them a second time.
Gulping the last of his tea, he stuffed the empty bulb in a leg pocket.
«Wouldn't you prefer limited impact after drinking your tea, Captain?»
«No, I'll be fine. I'm just going to do a quick run-through, not stop and play.»
Canaisis laughed. «Okay, it's your choice. Just protect your stomach—I don't want to have to clean up my floor.»
With the stimulation of the tea kicking in, Gareth took a deep breath as his pulse quickened. «Do your best.» He crouched into a runner's launch, gripping his gun. «Now start the clock.»
«Go!»
∞
Ayla felt the exertion as she heaved another shovelful of dirt out of the hole. Panting, she stepped aside and planted her shovel, standing straight as she waited for Ahmid to toss more loads of soil up to her level. He stood in the bottom of the hole by the Tree's tap root, creating a trench for it to follow as they raised the Tree.
Somehow, the tap root had survived when the Tree was ripped from the soil and toppled. It was critical for it not to break during the raising, or the Tree could die. Ahmid was clearing any dirt that would interfere with the root. At first, Ayla had worried this would create an air pocket under the Tree, but Ahmid assured her that watering would wash dirt into any air pockets, gradually filling them in. The chief concern was to get the roots replanted and covered in soil before they dried out too much. That the roots would settle below ground level due to the amount of dirt they were removing, sinking the Tree lower than its original height, would not pose a problem.
The pile of dirt on Ayla's level grew. When Ahmid took a break, she would take over. That way, she didn't risk getting hit by flying dirt. Nevertheless, she kept a watchful eye as each shovelful landed and spilled down the sides of the heap, edging it closer to her feet.
A faint sound of the ground thumping grew louder, and Ayla turned to look over the edge behind her. Her breath caught when she saw Gareth emerge jogging into the clearing, heading for the picnic table. He looked handsome dressed in gray with his sidearm bouncing at his hip, and the gold insignia glinting from his shirt collar. She'd never seen him in cargo pants with its many pockets before.
Breathing deeply, he halted at the table, and Ayla noted he'd been jogging for a while. But she couldn't sense him. His emotions were locked tight, without battling the burning fatigue and nausea from yesterday.
Gareth took off his belt and weapon and put them into the drawer under the table. He turned toward the hole in the ground and, spotting Ayla, smiled at her. It was only then she felt his surface emotions come alive. She returned his smile, hoping for something deeper, but the void of nothing still protected his core emotions. She glanced down to see Ahmid watching her with lifted brows.
"The Captain has arrived," she said.
Ahmid gave her a knowing smile. "That I could tell."
"Hello, Ahmid. Ayla," said Gareth as he approached.
Ayla looked up to meet his gaze with an innocent smile, hiding her irritation at Ahmid's smug look. "Greetings, Captain."
"What do you think, Captain?" Ahmid leaned on his shovel with head cocked, eyes scanning the rim behind Ayla, not yet seeing the Captain.
Gareth came up to the edge and surveyed the work they had accomplished, and nodded his approval.
"I think I need to say thank you for all this, Ahmid. This is more than I could ask of you."
"Consider it a gesture of appreciation, Captain."
"What can I do to help?"
"At the moment, we're shaping the hole to allow the tap root to fall back into place," answered Ahmid. "But we only have two shovels."
"Right." Gareth jumped down to Ayla's level and met her gaze. "Mind if I take over?"
Ayla felt his amusement as he asked the question. But she was staring at him as he rolled up his sleeves, at the slight glistening of sweat on his brow, and his smell of clean health and adrenaline washed over her. She didn't know what he'd been doing, but his whole body was worked up to a higher energy level. The effects from yesterday's radiation poisoning appeared to have all but vanished. Instead, she sensed his focused clarity, his body's balance with muscles awaiting command.
And injury—he was hurt. Even if he didn't feel the two bruises heated with blood, she could. Her senses probed deeper and found them: the back of his left shoulder and the right side of his rib cage.
The movement of one eyebrow arching up snatched Ayla's attention, and she met Gareth's gaze again. He was waiting for her to respond. Gathering her wits, she thrust the shovel at him.
"Absolutely not." She wasn't going to bring up his injuries and make the differences between them even more pronounced.
He took the shovel with an amused smile and slid down the dirt to stand beside the trench Ahmid was in.
"This is for the tap root, I'm guessing?"
"Yes, Captain." Ahmid pointed at the root extending over their heads. "As you can see, it needs to arc down until it drops into its original home. We need to dig this trench down until we reach the depth of the tap root itself when the Tree returns to vertical."
"Have you thought of what might happen if the whole Tree slides when we pull on it, instead of rising up?"
"I've considered that, but I'm betting the downside roots are still gripping the ground enough to hold the Tree in place. Should be fine in lower gravity."
Gareth nodded. "You sound like you've done this before."
Ahmid chuckled. "No, no. Have you?"
"I've never needed to. But then, we've never been hit by a nuclear explosion before."
"Then we shall learn together, Captain."
Gareth nodded again and indicated a mound of dirt beside the trench. "This is a pile you were making?"
"Yes, I toss it up to Ayla, and she shovels it out."
Gareth took a shovelful of dirt and, in one toss, the dirt flew out to land on the pile Ayla had been making outside the hole.
Ayla stepped back as dust floated in the air. "If you two are having fun, I'm going to gather our Mid-meal."
"An excellent idea," answered Ahmid. "We'll need a good meal to fuel the real work."
Ayla climbed out of the hole and paused at the rim, watching the men. After they'd settled into a rhythm of removing dirt, she went to the picnic table and found the water faucet rising out of the ground. She washed her hands while studying the waist-high black metal column a few paces away.
«Canaisis?» she thought, wiping her face with her wet hands.
«Yes, Ayla?»
«I want to prepare a good meal, something more substantial than a salad. That grill works, doesn't it?»
«Of course it works,» responded Canaisis with slight indignation.
Ayla sat down with her back leaning against the table. Her limbs felt heavy and worn out after all the shoveling. «What kind of meals does the Captain prefer? What does he grill?»
«Hmmm. I've never been asked this question before.»
«You don't know?»
«Of course I know.» This time, there was definitely an indignant tone.
«And?» Ayla tilted her head, gazing at the artificial sky. «I just want to do something nice for him, that's all.»
«It's about privacy, Ayla. I had to evaluate all the arguments and parameters. Were you a stranger, I'd tell you to ask the Captain. However, you're not a stranger, and that makes it even less clear. Human relationships are very illogical. With so many degrees of intimacy and cultural standards, it's difficult to judge. In this case, I don't see how the Captain would object to you knowing his preferred tastes. Besides, he skipped eating this morning, and that falls into the category of a health issue.»
Ayla lifted her brows at that. «Well, thank you.»
«Just don't get me in trouble.»
Ayla laughed. «It will be our secret.»
Canaisis began listing various vegetables, and Ayla asked about the methods of preparing and cooking them. When they'd settled on the menu, Ayla forced her weary limbs to get up. She opened the drawer and wasn't surprised to see Gareth's sidearm and holster belt missing. Instead, she found a bag for gathering.
«Thank you, Canaisis. I wonder why the Captain felt the need to bring his weapon.»
«You'll have to ask the Captain, Ayla.»
Ayla just shook her head and took the bag, closing the drawer. With Canaisis directions, she started exploring the Garden to gather the ingredients.
∞
Ahmid shoveled at as steady a pace as he could. He'd given up on trying to outpace the Captain. Instead, he decided to be grateful the work was going quickly with the Captain matching his pace. The hole was now configured to the shape of the root structure, with one deep trench for the tap root to follow into its original void.
The root structure was like a wall of twisting worms on one side of the hole. Bumping into any root caused a shower of dirt. Dust and grit stuck to their perspiring arms and faces and got into their hair. Grit rubbed inside Ahmid's collar, trickled down his back to his buttocks and into his shoes, even between his toes. In short, the two were covered in dirt from head to foot.
Ahmid respected the Captain's lack of complaint or hesitance in doing this laborious work. They had frequent staccato exchanges on how the Tree would fall into the hole and how best to shape the dirt for the transition. The Captain wasn't afraid to make suggestions, but he also listened and evaluated Ahmid's ideas with respect. Ahmid found it very satisfying, a closeness to Gaia, to be working in the Garden. And if this work eased the Captain's mind even just a little, then it was even better.
When the whiff of roasting vegetables drifted down to them, they both stopped to look at each other. Without a word, they planted their shovels in the soil as one and climbed out of the hole. They found an assortment laid out on the picnic table and Ayla standing before the smoking grill. They watched Ayla for a moment as she fussed with its contents.
Ahmid turned to the Captain. "Join us for Mid-day meal, Captain?"
The Captain rubbed his hands together and met Ahmid's gaze. "Actually, I'm famished. Nothing like a little exercise to work up an appetite. Let's get cleaned up."
The two walked over to the water faucet between the grill and the picnic table. Ayla looked around at their approach and paused, her eyes widening on seeing their appearance. Ahmid grinned at the look on her face. It was priceless.
The Captain washed his hands and arms, then plunged his head under the running water and rubbed the dirt from his hair, face, ears, and neck. He stepped away and Ahmid took his turn, following the Captain's example, and finished up with a thorough rinse of his beard. Straightening himself with water streaming down his face, he wiped his eyes and saw the Captain a distance past the table, shaking his head.
Ah. Good idea. Ahmid stepped a distance away from Ayla and flung a sprinkler-worth of droplets from his head a tad too vigorously. Not such a good idea. He had to pause to dispel the dizzy spell before joining the Captain at the picnic table. The Captain gave him one of the towels he'd retrieved, and they both toweled their heads. Then, draping the towels around their necks, they sat down facing each other.
Ayla had set out plates for them. Other plates in the middle of the table contained various vegetables, roots, berries, and leafy greens. Ahmid noted that some of the roots and vegetables were already cooked.
"This is quite a meal," said the Captain.
Ahmid nodded. "I think Ayla has outdone herself this time."
They turned their gazes to Ayla, who peeked over her shoulder before returning to the grill. Ahmid couldn't deny that the smile on her lips was for the Captain.
I won't stand in the way of your choice, Ayla. I just hope it is a joyful one. Filled with doubt, he looked back at the Captain. The Captain's focus was on the table, surveying the dishes and prepared ingredients. He reached over with a spoon and sampled some juice that had been poured over a cooked root. After tasting it, a puzzled look grew on his face.
"Anything wrong, Captain?" asked Ahmid.
The Captain cleared his face and smiled. "Not at all. It all looks wonderful."
Ayla returned with a plate of cylindrical orange roots she'd grilled and sprinkled some chopped green herbs over them. Done with that, she looked up. "Ahmid, will you lead with prayer?" She took her seat beside Ahmid, who bowed his head.
"Let us give thanks and respect to Gaia for keeping us and this ship safe, for the bounty that shall bless our bodies with nourishment and strength. We ask for guidance as we work together, and thank Gaia for blessing this Tree with full recovery.
"We honor Gaia, the All."
Ayla portioned out the food to each plate. She watched the Captain cut up the root with the juice and take a bite.
Ahmid did the same, and Ayla asked him, "Do you like it?"
"Yes. It's not something I'm used to, but it's good. What is this juice?"
"It's a type of berry that Canaisis told me about. Captain? Do you like it?"
"It's just how I would prepare it, Ayla. It's perfect."
Ayla smiled, pleased, and began cutting up her own food.
At first, Ahmid was too hungry to pause for conversation, but he was very aware of Ayla's expectant anticipation as the Captain tried each new item. It didn't take long before Ahmid hesitated with his fork over one, and then another unfamiliar ingredient on his plate, prompting him to ask of its origin and suitability for eating. Ayla remained silent, allowing the Captain to answer. Eventually, their conversation returned to the Oak tree and what needed to be done next. But with the Captain so relaxed in their company, Ahmid decided to seize the moment. He wanted to learn more about the Captain's time on the ship.
"So tell me, Captain, would you tell us some stories of your travels?"
The Captain looked up from dicing a piece of star-shaped fruit. "Stories? What kind of stories?"
"Surely you have interesting stories to tell with all the people you have met, all the different cultures. What occasion stands out in your mind?"
"Hmm... I'd have to think about that."
They nibbled their food as the Captain thought about it.
"Well, there was one incident."
≈ ∞ ≈
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