Dan arrived at the door to the hydroponic facility first thing the next morning. He'd been told that the ship relied heavily on supplies, especially with the addition of the Americans, but that no spaceship left port without at least some hydroponics onboard.
Some of it was survival. If something happened to the engines, or if you were caught on the surface of a planet, you had to be able to produce food. But a lot of it, Dan was beginning to guess, was cultural preference. They had a strong preference for fresh foods, just like they had a strong aversion to automation.
They automated chores that were particularly nasty or dangerous, but little else. Toilets and medi-tanks could clean themselves, but someone pushed a broom down the hallways every day to keep them clean. A wizen old man came around with a laundry cart twice a week. Cooks chopped vegetables for every meal. Suggesting that some of these chores could be easily accomplished by a machine earned looks of scorn or disbelief. They insisted that handcrafted clothes or jewelry "felt better" even if it wasn't as high quality. It gave the ship, and their culture, a strange sense of being both more and less advanced than the American lifestyle.
Tellki had come as close as any to enunciating the philosophy. "A machine can give a man anything he needs," he paused for effect. "Except a sense of purpose, a feeling of being useful, productive. Machines can not produce these, nor do they need these. So let the machines be idle and let the people work."
The side effect, or possibly the intended purpose, of this lack of automation was that jobs were plentiful. Even, and especially, manual labor jobs. "Stupid people need jobs, too," Tellki had said. Janda had danced around the same question more delicately, stating that not everyone was cut out for advanced education or high tech positions. But that didn't mean they couldn't contribute in some other way. And those people needed to earn a living, too.
The door to the hydroponics slid open and Dan stepped into one of the whitest rooms he'd ever seen. The ceiling and walls glowed. It was a long, low room. Six rows of waist high trays ran the length of the room, with walkways between.
A young neanderthal woman greeted him and set him to work. They grew an impressive number of vegetables and fruits. He spent most of the morning gathering greens from one row and then reseeding the same flats. About midday an elderly Hanuman woman introduced herself as the chief biologist in charge of the facility. She walked him around, answering his questions about the growth medium they used and other things.
"They are watered from below?" he asked.
"Indeed," she replied. She pried a tray loose. Underneath was a deep well of running water. Lights on the side lit the tank, which seemed to run the length of each row. She reached in and pulled out a fish, a trout that was just under a foot long. "Space trout," she said. She let it go back in the tank.
"Space trout? What makes it a space trout?"
"Other than the fact they've been bred to grow well in confined spaces, like an aquaculture tank, nothing," she admitted.
"What about meat?" Dan asked. The Consortium cooks provided food that was mostly vegetables. They'd been served fish and seafood almost daily. Meat, mostly poultry or goats meat, came about once a week. Dan wasn't sure if that was because they were on a spaceship with limited facility or is that was how they normally ate. "I've noticed much of your food is vegetarian. Do your people eat meat?"
"We do," she affirmed. "Though I think it's reverse of you. You don't say vegetarian, you say 'I'm a meat eater' instead. Here, we are not rated for meat production. Not nearly enough space. On stations they produce quite a bit, chickens and poultry, goats and sheep."
"We eat lots of beef," he commented.
"So I've gathered from your TV," she replied. "Planetside, that's possible. Cows are resource intensive, not a good choice in space. You can order more meat with our next supply pod, if you wish."
"I can't speak for the others, but I've grown accustom to what you feed us. It's good food. I wouldn't go out of your way," Dan replied.
"Good, then let's harvest some tomatoes. We'll send a few to each kitchen. It will take some of the sting out of another day on processed rations," she said. She led him to a wall covered in vines and set him to picking tomatoes.
The door slid open behind them as they worked. "Why if it isn't our quartermaster," the woman said.
Dan turned and smiled at Bakala. "Good day."
"Good day," Bakala greeted them. "I just stopped by to see how things are going down here."
"Hmm," she said, a sly smile playing at her lips, "funny, you've never taken a personal interest in my operations before. It wouldn't have anything to do with a new worker?"
Bakala ran his hands through his hair and looked away. "Well, he is a hero after all."
Dan's first shift was almost over and Bakala stayed and followed Dan out and back towards the mess. They talked of nothing for awhile.
"Oh, I told my bunkmates I'm gay," he said. "That I like men exclusively," he explained. "It's... It probably doesn't make much sense to you, your culture is so different. But it's been hard, keeping it inside. There is so much caught up in this back home." He shook his head.
"I didn't tell them about you, by the way," he added. "I mean, I don't know what to say even. We've..."
"Shared some time together," Bakala replied.
"Yeah, I mean I told Cheyenne, but she's like a sister to me."
"The hero? You two know each other well?"
Dan nodded. "Yeah, we're tight."
"Makes sense," Bakala said. "Two heroes and all."
Dan blushed. "I hope you don't mind, that I told her." He was worried he might have crossed a line.
Bakala shrugged and looked down. He kicked his feet nervously for a moment and Dan's anxiety spiked. Had he gone too far?
"Actually," Bakala said, a lopsided grin playing across his face. "It feels... nice. That you think I am important enough to tell someone about. In the past, I've always just, you know, you want companionship for awhile and someone is there. That's all. That you tell someone who is like a sister, I am that special?" he gave a shy look at Dan.
Dan paused, not wanting to round the next corner, back to his own side, just yet. Instead he shoulder bumped Bakala and backed him against the wall. "Of course, you're special enough. I'd tell anyone who asks, that the best guy on the whole ship sets time aside for me, and only me." They were inches apart, Dan felt the familiar lust, but a fluttering in his chest as well. His face was only inches from Bakala's cheek and he kissed it.
Bakala turned in and kissed him back. For a long time they kissed.
When they broke their kiss, Dan joked. "I'd tell anyone except Captain Lannister. God, if he knew that the man he put in charge of stopping fraternizing was the worst offender."
Bakala laughed. "So you broke the rules for me? Now I will get a big head for sure." He plowed into Dan, pushing him back against the far wall. "I'm so special that you broke the rules just for me." Bakala kissed him again, hungrily.
Dan giggled. He felt like he was in junior high again, discovering these feelings for the first time. Only this time it could be in the open, he could admit them.
"So now what?" Bakala asked.
"For now, I have to go to my side of the ship and eat supper, and you must go to yours." He sighed, feeling like Aloka had looked the night before. Twelve hours suddenly seemed too long.
"But tomorrow, I shall come to you," Bakala said with a wink.
"The curfew..."
"Is on your crew, not mine. I can come to your side. You tell your bunkmates that Bakala will come, cook for his hero."
Dan looked at him, smiling and proud. He knew that this was not how Lannister intended the curfew to work and that he'd be pissed if he found out. But looking at Bakala, Dan couldn't resist. "Sure, I'll tell them."
One more quick kiss that dragged out longer than intend and Dan was striding around the corner feeling happier than he ever remembered. He fell into step beside a group of Americans marching along the hall way.
"Good day, sailors," he said.
"Good day, sir." They still managed to snap it out in a half sneer, but it didn't bother Dan, not today.
"Smile, Whitman," he replied. "That's an order."
Whitman gave him a pained expression that might have passed for a smile. Dan bit back a laugh. "That's better, sailor." He threw himself into the zero gravity lift as they passed it, disappearing before the men could do anything to sour his mood.