The Alpha Choice (34 page)

Armed with this knowledge, Gorn looked at these strange little people, with an interest totally alien to anything his colleagues might be thinking. As he cast his eyes over them, he noticed one other person paying them careful attention, Trang.

Whatever the girl’s agenda, and he remained of the view it did not conflict with his own, he disliked mysteries. Only six months ago his life was uncomplicated; a driven, almost friendless, genius with a simple desire to exceed the achievements of his brothers, and impress his father. An ambition he knew to be, both childish and unadventurous, nothing more than the aspiration of most normal young men. Despite his capabilities and intellect, it had the allure of being straightforward. Now, his view of the world, and everyone he knew in it, was turned on its head. He was tasked to do something, which if discovered, would be considered treason by everyone, except a small band of zealots who could all be quite mad. Unfortunately, during his pre-meeting, unauthorised excursion through Darl's database he discovered that they were right.
 

Pre-revelations, he was not concerned what anyone thought, save for Bakir. Post-revelations, he looked at everyone with the same question in his mind,
if you knew what I know, would you help, or hinder me?
What unnerved him most was the nagging feeling that Trang was asking herself the same question, when she looked at him.

The Nopa placed their trays of food and drink on the table, avoiding eye contact with the guests, but Gorn thought he saw a handful looking at each other, more than once, albeit blankly. Having completed their tasks they filed out of the room, leaving the bridge crew alone with their commander.

All eyes were on Darl. Once satisfied he had everyone’s attention, he raised his arms from his sides and magnanimously gestured towards the food. ‘I promise this, you have yet to experience anything remotely approaching the food you’re about to taste, all superlatives are meaningless.’

On cue, the guests began selecting items from the table, while their commander, his face maintaining its benignity, relished the part of despot lavishing gifts upon minions. Gorn deduced that this largess was uncommon, and from the expressions around him, it seemed to be a first time experience for most of the guests.
 

Despite knowing of Darl’s, almost obsessive desire to possess, and nurture the premier bridge crew within the fleet, the spectacle seemed excessive, even for him, and more than a little absurd. In a time of war, he might want to shower hospitality on his senior officers, before embarking upon a mission that might not see them all return, but when there was no danger whatever, the exercise was meaningless. It was as if, being denied the opportunity to function as a fighting unit, the command structure was descending into frivolity,
what next?
Gorn wondered.
The pleasure on the faces of most of the other officers, told him the sentiment was not shared,
but then
, he thought,
how many of you know the truth?
Perhaps,
it’s simply Darl anticipating the spoils of war? Whatever the reason
,
it might be your last chance to be merry
.
 

Food and drink were mere sustenance to Gorn, and that was enough. He failed to understand the need of others, to elevate eating to the level of the arcane. He picked up a canapé, consisting simply of grey paste spread on a small crisp disc. Visually, it was both bland and uninspiring, and small enough to be placed in his mouth in one go. As he lifted the small item towards his mouth he became aware of an aroma totally new to him; it was as though he was being prepared to taste something exceptional. He braced himself for that
something
to take him on a totally alien gustatory excursion, before reminding himself it was merely a canapé. Unfortunately, his senses had already began to sweep logic aside, eagerly awaiting the
something
.

The flavour was indescribable. Darl was right, he had never experienced anything like it before. Savoury, with a tang that was not quite saltiness. There were at least three taste sensations, which continued after he had swallowed the food. It was, to put it mildly, the most wonderful thing he had ever eaten. He looked across the table, counting trays of thirty different items, each small, lacking any colour beyond grey, and nestled on a small crisp disc, which he now understood, was nothing more than a flavourless, textured delivery system for the marvel it supported.
 

Not all the items were paste, some were shaped as cubes or hemispheres. Over the next forty five minutes, he tried every one of the thirty miniature taste phenomena. Evidently, the Nopa had decided that nothing, whether it was appearance or texture, was to interfere with the ultimate goal, taste.

Likewise, the drinks, also prepared by the Nopa, were nothing short of incredible. There were only three types, each a different colour: blue, green or yellow, all pale. Arrayed next to each tray of food, were sufficient glasses to match the number of canapés, and no more. Nor was any choice given; it seemed that certain drinks were meant to match specific food, each glass containing sufficient for one, small mouthful. His adoptive father was a food aficionado, and Gorn was used to the interminable wait, while drinks were matched with food. Much to his surprise, he learned that this was a ceremony repeated throughout a number of households. He had to accept, there were some basic tenets to which diners felt the need to adhere, but he could never understand how so many people could get caught up in the almost ceremonial aspect of it. Today, he finally understood. Without the accompanying drink, the food was incredible, with it, sublime. He tried a different drink to accompany a non-matched canapé. Amazingly, the food tasted the same as it did without any drink; the effect of the wrong drink was neutral. No sooner had he done this, than a Nopa appeared at his side to correct the drinks to canapés imbalance, he had just created.
 

How the Nopa achieved these astonishing feats was a mystery Gorn determined to solve, not because he was so interested in food, but to fathom whether a race capable of such intricacies, was quite as it appeared to be. He looked at the curious little people, as they filed in and out of the room constantly refreshing trays, and tried to elicit a sign of something deeper within them, but could sense nothing beyond their bland appearance.

Turning his attention back to his fellow guests, he noticed a universal effect of the food was to render them all silent, they were simply eating, while Darl, who did not participate, stood back and relished the spectacle. If the purpose of the buffet was to encourage his officers to interact with each other, it was a dismal failure, but Gorn did not believe for one moment, this was ever Darl’s intention.

Closer attention to the group revealed two others, more interested in observing their peers than indulging, Zan and Trang. As his eyes moved over the scene they met those of his commander who was regarding Gorn with a look, not of amusement, but of quiet interest. As if to demonstrate to his young science officer that he was just as observant, he deliberately turned his head to look at both Zan and Trang, before looking back at Gorn, and smiling.

Gorn wondered if the food had intoxicant, or narcotic properties. Was this a test to see who, if any, was resistant to its effects? The one thing he knew about food, and he knew very little, was that when they ate good food, most people usually talked about it, even while eating, which he considered a contradiction. Today, everyone, with the exception of himself and three others, seemed entranced, and even he found it difficult to tear his attention away from the tiny delicacies.

The Nopa were a living contradiction and he knew, from personal experience, what that meant. His train of thought was interrupted by the return of the tiny bland figures, who silently and efficiently removed the trays. He caught one of them momentarily glancing in his direction before hurriedly diverting his/her eyes back to the task in hand. In the fleeting moment that encapsulated that glance, he discerned intelligence, and curiosity.

He stole a glance at Darl whose own eyes were firmly fixed upon his executive officer who, spell now broken, had collared Zan and was pointing to one of the empty trays - no doubt discussing the tiny wonders it recently displayed. Moving his attention to Trang told a different story. She was looking at the Nopa, but fortunately, not
his
Nopa who had remained in the same spot busying himself/herself, loading a tray with empty glasses. Gorn noticed he/she was less synchronised than his/her colleagues and, despite a complete lack of evidence upon which to base his judgement, decided that the object of his attention was female.
 

She looked no different to the others of her kind, but as he continued to watch her, he noticed a small scar on the index finger of her right hand. Running his eyes over her fellows, confirmed the scar to be unique, possibly the result of some cryptic Nopa ritual.

Within Te’an society, because of advanced reconstruction techniques, no one bore scars. It seemed the Nopa were considered not important enough to warrant any treatment. Far more important to Gorn, it meant he could find this particular Nopa, his Nopa, again.
Surely,
he thought,
I can’t be the only one who thinks
these creatures are sentient, beyond their parlour trick of creating great food and drink.
Within moments, the group of little people was gone, leaving the guests alone with their host.

Pleased with his efforts, Darl addressed the assembly. ‘Officers of the bridge, and other esteemed guests, I think it’s safe to say, from the looks on your faces, that you enjoyed the meal,’ there followed an enthusiastic exclamation of approval, with Darl nodding his acknowledgement and sitting down, a clear indication the festivities were over.
 

Everyone took their seats, it was time to get down to the serious business of running a ship of the line. ‘We have been assigned our mission. Eclipse leaves orbit, in three days, and makes her way to a star system seven and a half thousand light years from Te’ath. Our destination comprises a medium sized yellow sun with eight planets. Of particular interest to us, is the third planet from the star, Telluria known locally as, Earth,’ at this he waved his hand and a personal holographic projection appeared before each of the seated officers, and civilian heads of department. Details, pertinent to each of their specialisations, were paraded in front of them. Each knew the data would be stored in their personal database, for later review and detailed analysis. For now, it was only necessary to acquaint themselves with general information. This did not apply to Gorn who, with the advantage of an eidetic memory, would only have needed the three minutes, customarily allotted in mission briefings, to absorb all the data. As it was, he had already seen this and a great deal more besides.
 

The task completed, each of the officers and civilians looked to their commander, and Gorn looked at each of them, for a sign.
 

‘Sir,’ Trang interjected, ‘this is a human species yet to achieve interstellar flight,’ Gorn was still looking at his fellow attendees. Either of Trang’s points would have been immediately spotted by everyone there,
how will they react?
he wondered.

‘Your point?’ her commander responded crisply.

‘In accordance with rule 174(a) of the Universal Accords, we are not permitted to interfere with a non-emergent civilisation,’ no one said anything, no one looked surprised.

‘You are correct,’ Darl replied, ‘which is why we are simply travelling to the system to keep watch and assist, should the need arise,’ Gorn waited to see if Trang had anything more to say concerning the targets being human, but she remained silent.
 

As if in answer to an unspoken command, a single Nopa, Gorn’s Nopa, carrying a cup of some hot liquid, entered the room and walked over to the commander. Darl took the proffered beverage, dismissing the Nopa with a wave of his hand. Taking a sip from the cup, he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He remained like this for almost three minutes, during which time no one spoke. Gorn used the time to look around the table. Other than Zan and Trang, his fellow officers all looked nondescript, their expressions bordering on vacuous. He wondered whether this could be an effect of the food, but immediately discounted it, after all, neither Trang nor Zan displayed the same vacancy. He found it difficult to accept that they represented the cream of the service. There was no doubt, from his review of their personnel files, they were able. The only conclusion he could validly draw was, disinterest.
None of them responded, at all, to what Trang said. If they thought the Tellurians were our first targeted humans, there would have to be some reaction. They’ve all heard of the Accords, why aren't they, at least, concerned? They either know the truth…
he had no sooner thought this, than discounted it as being oversimplified…
or
they know their commander too well, and daren’t preempt his response.

Darl opened his eyes and stood up, motioning to everyone that they were to remain seated. ‘I shall leave you for a short while, during which time you can regale each other with your shore leave exploits,’ and with that, he strode out of the room. Gorn, of everyone in the room, was the least surprised by their commander’s exit,
he must have received notification of the communications malfunction.
 

For a few moments nothing was said, then chairs were moved and people began to rise, while others began to talk to those next to them. Gorn, not usually sociable, and not intending to engage in idle chatter, stood alone. His aunt, Narol was quite animated and actively moving around the room speaking to all and sundry, but at no time looking at her nephew.
 

He became aware of a presence behind him. Without knowing why, he had a fair idea who it was, he turned and found Zan standing before him. The tactical officer held out his arm, inviting Gorn to clasp it, which he did. ‘We haven’t spoken since the tournament. You were the master there and we, your mesmerised students.’