“Because…” Nina sat back on her heels. “You’re in pain.”
“Yes.” He nodded, frowning. “But why should you care? I kidnapped you. Took you from your home.”
Nina shrugged uneasily. “I don’t know. I can’t stand to see someone in pain—not if I can help.”
“Of course.” He laughed harshly. “I’m like an animal in a cage—a bear you’re too compassionate to watch suffer.”
“Something like that, I guess,” Nina said uneasily. “Speaking of which…” She gave his shoulders one last squeeze. “Feeling better now?”
Reddix flexed his arms and shoulders and nodded grudgingly.
“I am. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She rose a little unsteadily and reached for the cabinets again. “Okay, let’s see what we’re having for dinner. Looks like…” She frowned as she regarded the contents of the cabinets. “Sugar?”
“What is sugar?” Reddix asked, craning his neck to see what she was looking at. “Some kind of Earth food?”
“More like a seasoning or a condiment,” Nina said. “You put it in your drink to sweeten it up.” She spoke distractedly, staring at the contents of the cabinet. Stacks and stacks of little white cubes, all individually wrapped with tiny strange letters printed across their little wrappers, were stacked in the first cabinet she had opened. And the second, and the third. And then she was out of cabinets. “I just don’t understand why there are so many of them,” she muttered.
“So many of what?” Reddix asked, sounding impatient.
“Sugar cubes. This doesn’t make sense,” Nina said. She looked down at Reddix. “Hope you’re not diabetic.”
“Let me see one.”
Nina picked several of the cubes off the shelf and held them out to him, at eye-level.
Reddix scanned the miniscule writing on the cubes, which appeared to be in some foreign language. Then he laughed—a much nicer sound than the harsh bark he’d given earlier when he accused her of seeing him as a caged bear. This was a deep rumbling sound that held genuine amusement—Nina felt it in her bones.
“Those cubes aren’t sugar or any other kind of Earth food, sweetheart,” he said. “They’re just dehydrated rations—that’s how Kindred store food for long trips.”
“Oh.” Nina examined the cubes more closely herself. “They look exactly like sugar cubes. That’s weird.” She juggled the cubes in her hand. “So what…is one of them carrots and one peas and one beef stew or what?”
Reddix shook his shaggy head. “I don’t know what any of those foods are, but the cubes are not just one particular component of the meal. Each single cube is an entire meal in and of itself.”
“Really?” Nina was even more intrigued. “And can you tell what kind of meal is in each?”
“Sure. It’s written on the cube in Standard—the universal Kindred language,” he explained. “Show me again, and I’ll tell you what’s what.”
She held them out again, and he glanced at them briefly. “That one is Grieza worms—a delicacy from Twin Moons,” he said.
Nina shuddered. “Worms? No thanks.” She put the cube on the counter. “Next?”
“Pshaolin pie from my own home world of Tarsia.” He looked surprised. “I didn’t know they had any Touch Kindred food.”
“I guess whoever stocked the ship liked it,” Nina said. “What is it like? Is it a fruity kind of pie or does it have a creamy center?”
He frowned. “I don’t know if your definition of pie matches with mine. It’s a dish with many layers, both savory and sweet. It can be delicious if it’s done right.”
“That sounds good,” Nina said. “You want to call dibs on that cube?”
He frowned. “Dibs?”
“I mean, is that the one you want for dinner?” she clarified.
“Oh. Sure.” He nodded at the other cubes. “Which one do you want?”
Nina sighed. “I don’t know…anything but worms, I guess. I wish there was some Earth food here. Not that I don’t like to try new things but…” She almost said but I’m already homesick. However, she stopped herself just in time. She’d already shared enough personal details with Reddix. It was time to start keeping things to herself.
“Well, if there’s food from my home planet, there might be some from yours too,” Reddix said reasonably. “Give me some more meal ration cubes to read and let me know if anything sounds familiar.”