Chapter 9

Chapter 9

D aedalus accepted his plate from the food synthesiser and settled at the table in the galley. Sure, he’d been demoted to a glorified delivery boy, but flying the Burro still had some perks. The courier ship had belonged to some shipping magnate back on Earth, and he’d fitted it out with the very best that money could buy. The fancy food and wine he’d filled the stasis chambers with were long gone, but the food synthesiser on the ship could make dishes they didn’t have the ingredients in the Colony to cook.

Like this three-cheese lobster mornay. The Colony didn’t have one cheese, let alone three, due to the slow start with their dairy herd, and lobsters took years to grow to a decent size. Unlike those fat fish in the tanks in the cargo hold…

He’d only ever eaten lobster once back home on Alba, and that was years ago, so he didn’t have much to compare it to, but he’d be hard pressed to tell the difference between this synthesised meal and the real one he’d had back home. He was willing to bet even the Mer in the Colony didn’t eat this well.

Maybe he should make a second dish of the stuff and bring it to Primula’s cabin.

“Is this thing yours?”

Primula thrust out something dark and mottled, which exploded into flight, landing right on the table beside his lobster. Lothario sniffed appreciatively.

Daedalus grabbed his bowl and clutched it to his chest. “Oh, no, cheese isn’t good for meowls. You’ve got a whole bowl of meowl mix over there.” He waved at the bench beside the meowl carrier, but one glance told him the bowl was already empty. “I swear you’re part pig.” He opened the nearest cupboard and stuck the bowl inside, before slamming the door shut. “I’ll fill up your bowl if you swear to stay away from my dinner.”

Lothario just stared at him with a mulish look on his face.

Daedalus sighed and filled the bowl. Lothario flew over. A moment later, he was devouring the food as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks. Never mind that the bowl had been full last night.

“That thing ate my fish.”

“I’ll clean up the mess as soon as I’ve finished my lunch,” Daedalus said.

“No, you don’t understand. He ate my fish. There are five missing from one of the tanks,” Primula insisted.

“Well, he must have left a mess somewhere. He couldn’t possibly have eaten those fish whole. Come to think of it, how’d he even get the lid off the tanks? Meowls are smart, but he’d have had to access the ship’s computer to manage that.” Daedalus shook his head. “It couldn’t have been him. The fish probably ate each other. The only live food he likes is moths.”

“There were moths in the cargo hold. And in my room. And then he came.” Primula glared at Lothario.

Better the meowl than him. “The moths are his food and exercise. Without them, he’d spend his days sleeping on the couch.”

She looked like she wanted to snap out an angry retort, but her shoulders slumped and she hung her head. “All right. Just…keep that thing away from my fish, all right?”

“His name is Lothario and he’s a meowl. I’m pretty sure he can understand us, though he chooses to ignore most of what we say because he’s part cat. As long as the lids are on the tanks, he won’t be able to get to your fish, and they’ll be safe,” Daedalus called after her as she headed off.

He blew out a relieved breath. She hadn’t suspected anything about the moths, and she’d blamed Lothario for her lost fish. He was off the hook, both literally and figuratively.

Of course, he’d have to stay away from the fish himself, and not eat any more of them, but as long as the food synthesiser could make passable lobster, he could manage.

Speaking of which…he opened the cupboard, and a veritable flock of moths flew out. An army of caterpillars crawled all over the door. As for the lobster mornay…

“Ugh. I get why you don’t like mealworms,” Daedalus said, tossing his mornay, bowl and all, into the recycler.

Now he had the meowl’s attention. Lothario lost interest in the meowl mix and arrowed for the infested cupboard.

“All yours, mate. I’m not hungry any more.”