Fast Cars and Intergalactic Speed Dating

19: The Other Human On Board

"Seriously, though, will somebody tell me if he wakes?" Richard asked.

"You must rest, Richard. We will care for your friend. You have had an exhausting day." Aialo-El was leading him down a hall not far from the med-bay. Here, the doors were marked with textile hangings in roughly the same place that a door number might be in a hotel, each one a unique pattern. She paused outside one with a blue and white pattern, brushing her fingers over the textile lightly as she passed through the door. "Here."

It was a private room. There was a group of four cushioned chairs near to the door, and built into the wall were two nest-shaped bunks. It seemed like a dormitory of some kind, a place where somebody slept, dressed, and did private work.

It was far cozier at a glance than the med-bay or the other, more public parts of the ship he had seen. The ship was so white, bright, and clean that it was jarring. Here, the walls were white, but the institutional feel had been softened with decorations. There was a shelf holding painted ceramics. There were two colorful hangings on the wall, like the tapestries hung by the doors in the hall. The bunks were layered with blankets in different colors, and there was a patterned rug on the floor next to them. It was foreign, but it was homey.

"Please, seat yourself and rest," said Aialo-El. "I will arrange for something to drink."

Richard hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. His stomach turned with worry for Garth. But despite how foreign this place was, he felt safe here. "Okay. Thank you, Aialo-El."

She nodded and gestured toward the chairs, then departed.

Richard puttered around the room for a moment, uncomfortable in the unfamiliar surroundings. He looked at the bunks, at the hangings, and at the painted ceramics. He found seams along the walls like those in the med-bay; a wave of a hand caused doors to spring open and drawers to slide out. They were all empty, but he still felt like a snoop, so he closed them back up and went to sit down.

He had never sat in a more comfortable chair.

Maybe it had something to do with how tired and scared he was. When a person was ravenously hungry, any food could taste like a five star meal. In the same way, maybe the post-adrenaline rush sickness he was experiencing could make a concrete floor feel relaxing.

No more than a minute or two after he'd settled, something chirped, and the door slid open to reveal Jalala-Ko. They were carrying a tray with a pot and three beautiful little cups on it made from some kind of earthenware. They were painted, apparently by hand, with a pattern of flowers unlike any Richard had ever seen.

"Is that for me?" Richard asked, feeling stupid. "Thank you so much."

Jalala-Ko bowed their head as they set the tray on the low table between the chairs. "Ooros," they said, indicating the pot with a wave of their hand.

"Ooros?"

They offered him the same hesitant twitch of a smile he'd seen on Aialo-El's face once or twice: a human expression on a friendly alien's face, a gesture for his sake, not theirs.

Richard felt simultaneously out of place and grateful. "Thank you, honestly."

They bowed their head again. Richard expected them to sit with him, since they'd brought extra cups, but they left without another word, leaving him alone.

Nonplussed, Richard waited for a moment. Then, since he was gasping for a drink, he helped himself to a pour of the tea. The china was beautiful; he wondered where it had come from and who had decorated it. He pictured an ancient Karran with wrinkled tentacles bent over a small table, painting china, like Richard's own grandmother had.