Gravity (Dark Anomaly #1) - Marina Simcoe Page 0,30

metal door past the glow on the wall.

“An equipment storage room. Beside it is the vasai farm, with the garbage sorting room at the back. Nothing of much interest. However, I’ll try to find some time to show it to you later, just so you know where everything is. Come, now.”

We turned into the short hallway to the right. It ended in a large arched entryway.

“Kitchen,” he announced.

Since he hadn’t released my arm, we walked in together.

This must be an older part of the Anomaly, an even more outdated ship. The walls here were made of weathered metal, their panels connected by double rows of rivets. The room was almost as large as the mess hall, with a higher ceiling that made it look even bigger. The semicircle of a metal countertop surrounded a huge flameless stove with two enormous pots bubbling hot on it.

About a dozen aliens mingled about, not appearing to be doing anything. It wasn’t immediately clear who was in charge here or what exactly was going on.

“Captain.” A male who looked like a bipedal cross between a rhino and a hippo covered by brick-colored plating, lifted one of his four giant hands in greeting. Some of the others in the room followed, making the same gesture. “The water is boiling.”

“Taste it,” Vrateus ordered.

Leading me to the counter, he finally let go of my arm but remained close. The rhino-hippo cross gave me a curious look that quickly turned into a leer.

I briefly considered if I should say anything in greeting but changed my mind, growing increasing uncomfortable under his stare. It lingered on every part of my body without ever moving higher than my neck.

“Is she here to give us a show?” a smaller alien asked. Sitting on the counter top, he reached with one of his many tentacles into a large jar next to him then smeared the grease from the jar over the fuzzy tuff of hair on the very top of his head, slicking it down.

“No,” Vrateus bit off, not glancing at the tentacled alien. “She is here to supervise the food preparation.”

It was weird to hear them talk about me in the third person in my presence. However, the last thing I wanted to do was to bring any extra attention to myself. At the moment, I preferred to be invisible, so I kept silent.

“Is that going to be her task from now on?” the larger one asked, perking up.

“Today, it is.” Vrateus tipped his chin at one of the pots. “Taste it, I said.”

The big alien dipped a large metal spoon into the pot then swallowed its boiling-hot contents without flinching.

Vrateus met his questioning look with a nod.

“Good. Go ahead with the stew, now.”

“What was that for?” I quietly asked Vrateus as he closely watched the rhino alien collect some roughly chopped things off the counter and toss them into the pot.

“I make sure no one adds fuhnid mushroom juice to the food. It’s extremely poisonous.”

“Why would anyone want to do it, then?”

“Mostly, to poison me,” he replied calmly. “But some would gladly use the mushrooms against others who might have pissed them off during the day—not paid after losing a bet, or for anything, really. Life is cheap around here.”

“Do many want to harm you?”

The thoughts about Vrateus suffering from paranoia came back to me. Surely, even these brutes could see how much he had improved life around here. Didn’t they appreciate him taking all of this work upon himself? I saw no reason for his crew wanting to get rid of him.

“Most.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe all.”

“But why?” It made no sense.

“These individuals thrive in anarchy. They fiercely detest the order I’ve been imposing.” He exhaled a brief, humorless laugh. “The only reason I’ve remained their captain for this long is because their dislike for any kind of organization prevents them from organizing against me.”

The rhino alien took a blob of the substance from the same jar the tentacled one had used to slick down the fuzz on his head. He sniffed at it, then tossed it into the pot.

My stomach lurched at the sight. The earthy smell waffling from the pot was the same as the stew I’d eaten many times since my arrival.

“This is made for everyone?” I asked Vrateus. “It’s the communal food, isn’t it? Everyone eats the same?”

“Yes. The food is cooked once a day. Krakhil,” he addressed the rhino chef. “Taste the second pot, now.”

Krakhil unhurriedly obliged. Upon Vrateus’s approval, he then tossed