Chapter 16: The Food Synthesizer’s Quirks

Mornings aboard the Narak'Tharr were a strange experience for Evelyn. The absence of a natural day-night cycle in the vastness of space was disorienting. Without a sun to mark the start of the day, she had to rely entirely on the ship’s systems to structure her time. Yet, after a surprisingly restful night in her cabin, she felt ready to tackle this new routine aboard the ship.

A soft chime pulled her from her dreams. The ship’s AI, Kryna, had gently woken her, informing her that breakfast was ready. Sitting up, she realized she still didn’t know her way around the Narak'Tharr. “Kryna, could you guide me to the common area?” she asked, a little unsure.

“Of course, Evelyn,” the AI responded in its neutral tone, and immediately, soft lights lit up along the floor, showing the way. Evelyn followed them, walking through the metallic corridors of the ship until she arrived at a small common area where the food synthesizer was located.

It was her first time using such a device. Fuzzy memories from her childhood, where simple, rudimentary machines produced basic meals, came to mind, but nothing compared to the advanced systems of the Narak'Tharr. As she approached the wall where the synthesizer was housed, Evelyn examined the device with curiosity. A sleek wall panel with touch interfaces and a small control screen greeted her. The options seemed endless—every imaginable dish appeared to be within reach.

She ran a finger across the screen, watching as various suggestions scrolled by. A mix of fascination and apprehension washed over her. It seemed so simple, yet Evelyn had never operated something this advanced.
“Kryna,” she murmured, “can you help me choose something for breakfast?”

“I suggest a light meal suited to your energy needs,” the AI replied, displaying a selection of dishes on the screen. Evelyn smiled slightly, realizing just how much more this ship was than just a machine.

“Alright,” she murmured to herself, “let’s see if I can make something simple…”

She swiped through the screen, browsing the various options. Text in several languages flashed by, and she eventually found the basic option for breakfast. It resembled a drop-down menu, with choices for drinks, fruit, cereals, and dishes she didn’t even recognize. Evelyn opted for something simple: scrambled eggs, fruit juice, and a croissant. After selecting her choices, she confirmed the order.

The synthesizer immediately came to life, emitting a soft hum as its internal mechanisms went to work. Evelyn watched the process with curiosity, eager to see the result. The noise intensified briefly, then a small tray gently emerged from the opening, presenting what should have been her breakfast.

However, the result was far from what she had expected.

The "scrambled eggs" had turned an unusual fluorescent green, a shade that was anything but appetizing. The "croissant" was present, but it was twice the size she had anticipated, with a texture that seemed oddly rubbery. As for the fruit juice, it resembled a thick turquoise liquid with a sugary, yet sharply pungent scent.

Evelyn stared in disbelief, her eyes fixed on this bizarre, somewhat alien version of what she had ordered. She couldn’t help but laugh softly, finding the situation both absurd and amusing. She wondered what combination of options had led to such… creative results.

At that moment, she sensed a presence behind her. Turning, she saw Vykhor standing in the doorway, watching her with an expression she had never seen on his face before. His yellow eyes gleamed with a barely concealed amusement—almost imperceptible, but definitely there. He didn’t laugh, of course, but it was clear he found the situation entertaining.

“I’m guessing this isn’t exactly what you had in mind,” he said in his deep voice, laced with a hint of mischief.

Evelyn nodded, a playful smile on her lips. “No, not at all. Looks like I still have a lot to learn about handling this technology.” She glanced back at the tray and added, “I’m not sure I even dare to taste this.”

Vykhor stepped closer, inspecting the tray with a critical eye. “The Narak'Tharr’s synthesizer is designed to produce food compatible with many species… but it seems it hasn’t quite grasped your human preferences.”

He reached out and picked up the oversized "croissant," examining it closely. He pressed it slightly, and the rubbery texture confirmed his suspicions. He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by this culinary oddity, before setting it back on the tray. “We might need to adjust the settings for next time.”

Evelyn nodded, still smiling. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.”

For a moment, they stood in comfortable silence, a tacit understanding passing between them. Vykhor wasn’t one to laugh, but it was obvious he found the situation amusing. For Evelyn, it was a welcome moment of levity, a brief escape from the complexities of her situation.

“I suppose I could try eating the eggs,” she said, eyeing the green mass, then pulling a dramatic face that made Vykhor’s eyes gleam just a bit more.

“Or you could try something else,” he suggested, his tone almost humorous. “I can show you how to adjust the settings.”

Evelyn gladly accepted the offer. “Yeah, I think I could use a crash course.”

Vykhor moved to help her operate the synthesizer, explaining how to fine-tune the settings to produce something more conventional, or at least closer to what she had in mind. Together, they recalibrated the machine, and a few minutes later, a much more appetizing breakfast appeared on the tray.

As they sat down to enjoy the meal, Evelyn realized there was something comforting about this scene. Despite the danger, the mysteries, and the uncertainty surrounding them, they could share simple, almost normal moments. And though she still had much to learn about Vykhor, this first breakfast aboard the Narak'Tharr marked the beginning of a new phase in their strange journey together.

As they ate, Evelyn couldn’t help but steal curious glances at Vykhor. The mystery surrounding him, intensified by his reserved demeanor, only fueled her curiosity. She knew she needed to learn more about him, especially if she was considering staying on the ship. After a few bites in silence, she decided to break the quiet.

“Vykhor,” she began cautiously, “I’ve told you my story. I think it’s time you tell me a little more about yourself. Who are you, really? And why were you on Earth before all of this happened?”

Vykhor remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on his plate. Evelyn wondered if he would answer or dodge the question. Finally, he set his utensils down and looked up at her. His stare was intense, as if he was carefully weighing his words.

“My past isn’t important,” he replied in his deep voice, though without hostility. “What matters is what I do now.”

Evelyn frowned slightly, unsatisfied with the vague response. “And what is it you do now?”

Vykhor let out a light sigh, as if he had expected that question. “I’m a mercenary, Evelyn. I sell my services to the highest bidder, as long as the mission fits within what I find acceptable.”

The word “mercenary” unsettled Evelyn. It conjured up images of a dangerous world where moral values could easily be compromised for money. But Vykhor seemed different, more complex than the stereotype of a heartless gun-for-hire.

“What do you consider acceptable?” she asked, her voice tinged with slight hesitation. “I need to know, Vykhor… If I’m going to stay here, I need to understand if our values align.”

Vykhor looked at her for a long moment, understanding the gravity of her question. For someone like Evelyn, who had been shaped by such deep, traumatic experiences, knowing where she stood was crucial.

“What I consider unacceptable,” he began slowly, “are missions that involve the unnecessary suffering of innocents, the exploitation of the weak, or anything that would destroy a people or a civilization for simple personal gain. I refuse to be part of massacres, genocides, or anything that could lead to irreversible consequences for entire populations.”

He paused, letting those words sink in before continuing. “I’m willing to fight, to kill if necessary, but only within a framework I find morally defensible. I’m not a killer without a conscience. My actions must have meaning, even if that meaning is difficult for others to understand.”

Evelyn stayed silent, absorbing Vykhor’s words. She knew he wasn’t a simple man, and his response confirmed that there was a moral code beneath his impenetrable exterior. He had a sense of honor, a line he wouldn’t cross, and that was something she deeply respected.

“And if I asked you to do something that went against your principles?” she asked softly, testing the boundaries of his convictions.

Vykhor stared at her, his yellow eyes glowing with an unusual intensity. “I would refuse,” he said firmly. “No matter who asks, I won’t betray my principles. They’re all I have left.”

Evelyn nodded, her mind already processing this information. She sensed that despite his troubled past and his mercenary profession, Vykhor had a sense of justice that resonated with her own values. He wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he might be the best ally she could hope for in this vast and often cruel universe.

She allowed herself a small smile. “Then I guess we might have more in common than I thought.”

Vykhor didn’t respond immediately, but the slight easing of his posture showed he appreciated the remark. For a man as reserved as him, every word counted, and he never allowed himself to give superficial answers. Evelyn respected that.