Chapter 17: Comedy Unfolding Part 2

The knife sliced through the cake with ease. "It's not the same," I said.

Ozhomannel looked up from his samples. "I hope you're not talking about the soil. It would be a bother to have to replace that entire field."

It was a joke, of course, he knew damn well I wasn't satisfied with the cake. I tore off a chunk and inspected it with a squeeze of my fingers. The dark brown mass crumbled in grains that were too fine and left not enough moisture on my fingertips. "Even the consistency is a little different."

Ozhomannel raised an eyebrow. "What's it taste like?"

I put the piece in my mouth. As it hit my tongue my mind began to conceptualize the ratios of ingredients I had used. "I used too much cacao overall, but there wasn't enough of Luma's and Dai's in the mixture so Ela's dominated and the powder you got from your brother in law was almost undetectable."

"That doesn't tell me anything." Ozhomannel's expertise wasn't in baking, he made sure life in my arboretum thrived and by extension made my crew thrive. I understood his frustration, even if I did the frustrating. "If you'll allow me," he said and leaned over to reach for the cake, taking one of the slices. He took a bite, giving it no other form of inspection. "It's good."

A petal decided to make its dance from its flower in my hair down to the ground. "I want it to be as good as the first time I tasted it."

"Ulenna! You two!" Ozhomannel waved over the three crew members nearest in sight. Riramuk Ulennavam was his star pupil. If he wanted, he could retire and let her take over his position, but I could tell he wanted more time to ensure she could fulfill her full potential. Ushrama and Lugnim were two officers in training fresh from the academy. Very young and clumsy in keeping their relationship discreet.

All three bowed politely in my direction with Lugnim taking charge with the brown nosing. "Your Radiance," he said, "You have need of us?"

I glowered at him. "I sound like an old man now? Ozhomannel here was the one who called you over." Behind the two lovebirds Riramuk laughed without letting out even a whisper, stood there with dirt-stained hands on her hips.

With their attention to the he old aggroforester held out the tin with the cake. "Just a simple taste test."

All three took a slice. Riramuk didn't even bother washing her hands, taking it her slice out of the tin by the strip of baking sheet underneath it. Careful as she was, I still wondered whether the Mezhained had eradicated, or gained a resistance to botulism. Perhaps that event had occurred before the Mezhained had become the Mezhained. The names they used for the micro organisms living in the soil were of course unfamiliar to the part of me that remembered the 21^st century, while their genome contained modifications so numerous that it was often hard to figure out the reason. Considering these, how could I ever know?

A cry of delight from Ushrama blew away those wisps of thoughts. "Oh my! This is worthy of a celebratory meal all right."

Lugnim turned to her. "I agree, Mella. Perfect for our successful return from Graedalir."

"It seems my cake recipe has gained a reputation," Ozhomannel said, scratching his head. "I will tell you this: it's not meant for a celebration, it's for captain Shubesh."

All three betrayed some level of surprise with their body language.

"For the captain?" Lugnim asked.

"I'm sure she would be delighted to taste this wonderful cake," Ushrama said a little too bright and chipper.

Riramuk took another bite from the slice she had picked. "It tastes different than usual. Did you change the recipe?"

Ozhomannel answered with a sigh. "It's got a strange mixture of cacao powders."

"Father." She addressed him by his title. " You don't need to mix leftovers together when our harvests have been this good. Wouldn't it be more appropriate to use our Ship's own cacao?"

"She insists on replicating the cake she had on the day of her launch."

The three of them were shocked silent. One by one they turned their gazes at me. I gave my best fight to keep myself composed against the onslaught of their judgement. "I just want Ragni to taste the same cake I did," I said. Elsewhere through another avatar I began running a finger along the seam of my thumb. That habit obviously hadn't gone away yet.

"I'm afraid that as a mere human I'll never remember the exact ratios I used that day. What I had made was an accident; no more or less special than a carefully planned recipe." He allowed himself another piece which he clearly enjoyed. "That is the real secret of a good cake, or any food for that matter. You have to make it fulfilling above all else." Another bite wolfed down. "That means you not only have to make it taste good but also feel good to make for yourself."

"But I'm so close to getting it right! I just need to change the amounts a tiny bit."

"That's not fun at all," Riramuk weighed in. "It wouldn't be your own cake."

Lugnim looked at her quizzically. "How does fun enter into it? Her Radiance must have her own deeply wise reasons for baking a cake."

How annoying to have some twat invent your motivations for you. He would never be my captain. Judgement complete.

"Why else would you make a cake?" Riramuk said.

"Well, you see..."

Ushrama gave her piece a visual inspection before plucking a piece off to eat. "Does this really not have our Ship's own cacao in it?"

"Sadly not," Ozhomannel said. "My accident was the consequence of being late to recognize I had no access to it. Though as Ulenna said earlier, we have plenty now."

"In that case I would follow her advice and use it to replace this odd blend of leftovers." She turned to me and hung her head in apologetic reverance. "That is to say, dear Vugni, I do not presume to make such decisions for you, nor do I dare to i-influence them." She raised her head. "I simply feel that it would honor you. N-not that you would need to h-honor yourself, that is."

This girl was amazingly great at awkwardness. Not a good trait for an officer, but she had years to overcome that.

"I'm not going to use it," I said.

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"O-oh." She shrunk down in front of me. "In that case, pardon my rudeness."

"I don't mind you speaking your mind, Ushrama. Don't feel discouraged from doing so in the future."

"Then..." Her lips trembled. "I would like to say I feel sorry for the beans in their pods, grown in your honor."

Huh? That was quite gutsy.

"They're fine. I-I have simply chosen not to use them," I said.

Because I'm not worth having my own cacao.

"Ah, that's right." Lugnim's voice barged in on our little dialogue. "Are we still on schedule for our mission to Graedalir, or have we been delayed?"

"We're supposed to leave as soon as possible," I ensured him. "All we need is for my mundane drive's adjustments to be completed."

"Was it that badly in need of fine tuning? From what I heard it ran superbly."

"There were some issues, but that woman..." I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand and expelled a sigh. "She kept seeing things that could be improved. Likaimasha, this has taken four times longer than planned already."

At the same moment those words had creaked out from my Arboretum's avatar, I had shouted them up a service ladder from the shrine deepest in my mundane drive.

"Not much longer!" Her voice echoed out from the jungle of ducts and pipes, still perfectly audible by human standards. She hadn't gone too far off, thankfully.

"It was 'not much longer' before your second went on meal break," I shouted back with a soft stomp of my foot.

"I'm coming back! Don't run any of your active systems until I'm back, dear Ship!"

I grabbed my forearms, set my shoulders tight against my torso and exhaled a small wad of air through that particular set of nostrils and a few others. "Now why would I do that..?"

The Mother of the Plume announced her presence with the repeated wet smacks of bare feet and hands against metal. Slipping out from a forest of steel clad in only a leotard, her toned and slender body with its nearly white skin contrasted sharply against the dark metal. Gloves, sleeves and such could get caught in heavy machinery, resulting in serious injury. Hence why the Mezhained considered leotards the safest form of clothing when working dangerous hardware like that. Luck would have it that both the men and women were beautiful and leotards were generally very flattering on all of them and Likaimasha was no exception. Loping between the dark metal structures she worked up a sweat: a thin film of moisture clinging to her skin, not the rancid pooling droplets sometimes found on 21^st century humans.

After making sure her toolkit was secure on her back she descended the service ladder, holding on to the rungs with her hands and feet. Mezhained toes were not quite as long and flexible as fingers but that was more than enough to make them infinitely more capable of grabbing and holding on to things than the clumsy nubs Becca had on her feet. As for me, I was quite happy having shoes for feet after I found out about this particular feature of Mezhained anatomy.

As Likaimasha stepped off the last rung the soles of her feet tensed up into an arch, making them more sturdy for regular walking. "Thank you for your patience, dear Ship," she said, undoing her hair bun. Silvery white tresses cascaded down her shoulders along with a few streaks in reddish hues. "I think you will like these modifications. Well worth postponing our departure for."

She reached out her hand to pat my head but stopped when she saw how stained with grease it was.

A little smirk. "Let me wash my hands first."

Within three bounds she was at the hygiene facility, swung her toolkit from her back, set it on the floor and grabbed a towel for her hands. Like their ancestors who often didn't have the luxury of artificial gravity, the Mezhained resorted to moist towels to wash themselves. Small towels for separate body parts, large towels for the whole body.

Likaimasha didn't bother to grab a large one. Content with having the grease off her hands she tossed the used towel into the appropriate locker, making sure it closed with a satisfying click. Leaving the hygiene facility with her trusty toolkit by her side and still dressed in only a leotard, she made her way back towards me.

I craned my neck in her direction and let go of my arms. "You're not going to clean off your sweat?"

She ignored my question. "Run a test cycle when everybody in the second is back. You'll notice the difference right away."

The warning lights turned on and access hatches locked up by my mental command. "They already finished their meal and are asleep in their hammocks. You took that long." I raised the interior anti-radiation shielding, setting of a loud, crackling from up above us.

Likaimasha blinked as if genuinely surprised by that. "Huh? Well, that just means I don't have to wait." A smile lit up her words.

"Promise me that after this you will wash yourself, have a meal, and then get some rest. Your tinkering took so much of your free time already."

"That is the way I like to spend my free time, I'll have you know."

"Commencing test cycle," I announced almost involuntarily, my avatar's voice timed perfectly with my voice coming from the audio system.

I wanted to send a retort Likaimasha's way but that desire crumbled when I experienced the smooth operations of my mundane drive's systems.

Right away I could clearly feel how its controlled explosions would be expelled more efficiently and smoothly. Every step followed its previous in elegant precision and led into the next with a flow that expanded the inherent joy of the experience of existing in the material emanation of the Ineffable All. I sensed the energy that implored my avatars to move and let my reason mute it wherever I could. This little bliss was better left contained to my inner universe.

A pressure on the top of one of my heads. Sets of my eyes fluttered open all over. Likaimasha had finally administered that head pat.

Her smile was similar to Ragni's. "You are our delight," she said. "What a great privilege to be one of the Illustrious Siblings tending to a Vugni who only recently started her Waking Dream." Of course she had noticed my inner poetry—a poetry that took from the religious texts contained within my knowledge tree of all things. She knew she had done a great job and denying it would only make me look foolish when joy was still on that obsidian face of mine.

My voice reverberated from my throat and all around us simultaneously. "Test cycle end." I regarded her awkwardly. She still smiled at me and still had her hand on my head. "Now go do your own things," I said with only my throat this time.

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