Darius pushed the buttons again and pulled his own meal from the machine.
“What’s that?” She pointed to a fluffy green dish that looked like the mashed potatoes you’d get in an Irish pub on St. Patrick’s Day. She forgot her own dinner, her curiosity aroused by the odd looking foods on his plate.
“This is mashed tingo root. It is very good and according to your mother tastes something like a sweet potato.”
“And this one? It looks like roast beef, but it’s probably not. Is it?”
He smiled. “You are correct, it is not. We don’t have cows on Centauri, but we have a similar animal and they taste very alike. It is called an emul.”
“I don’t think I want to know any more. I’m afraid if you tell me what everything is, it’ll scare me. Next thing you know, you’ll tell me that the dish over there,” she pointed at the one that was crispy looking and golden brown, “that looks like grasshoppers, really is.”
“Actually--”
She couldn’t help but notice the definite twinkle in his eye. “No, don’t tell me.” Holding up her hand, she shook her head and pushed her own plate away. “I want to try it. If you tell me, I won’t want to eat it, and I better get used to eating it, unless of course you have these machines all over the planet. Then,” she shook her head. “No, I want to eat what everyone else does.”
“All right, all right, I will not say anything more.” He pushed his plate over to her and ordered another for himself. “Just try everything and tell me what you do not like. I will have it removed from the system.” He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest.
“You can’t do that. What about the rest of the crew who might like whatever it happens to be? You can’t deprive them of something just because I don’t like it.”
“You are the Princess. Your desires come first.”
She was appalled. “No, that’s not how it should be. My people’s desires come first, always. That’s why I’m on this trip. Remember? If I thought about myself, I wouldn’t be here at all,” she whispered, “and neither would you.”
He smiled. “You said ‘my people’. I am pleased, you are the diplomat. Princess Margareta was correct.”
“Oh?” She looked over her glass at him. “Correct, in what way?”
“She said you would be a good ruler of our people.” The tone of his voice, so deep, so soft comforted her, convincing her he was sincere.
Removing her gaze from his she looked down at her plate. “Yes, well, let’s eat, shall we? I’m starved.”
They ate, chatting amicably. She tried every one of the exotic dishes, even the one that looked like fried grasshoppers and liked them all. Her favorite was the emul. It was roasted and there was a Béarnaise-like sauce over it. She loved Béarnaise sauce so much she could eat it with a spoon. Finally full, she sat back, twirling the wine in her glass. “I couldn’t eat another bite.” Patting her full belly, she grinned. “You were right. It was all wonderful but Mom’s pot roast is still my favorite. She always fixes it for my birthday.”
“I am glad you approve.” He smiled and she saw that adorable dimple in his right cheek. She could have just stared at him all night.
“What now, Darius? Where do we go from here?” she asked.
He leaned back in his chair, relaxing, finally. Gone was the stern captain. Now he seemed just a man, yet unlike any other she’d known. “Where would you like to go, Audra?”
