Prisoners of Sol - Derandi Chef (2/7)

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The first thing that I found peculiar was that the dimension-hoppers had wanted their food to be painful, despite being informed of capsaicin’s chemical sting and our reasonable recommendation of removing it from the dishes. I wondered if it exhilarated these terrifying monsters to feel pain, when so little could harm them in the outside world; the only factor that’d make me consider otherwise was how Preston had reacted, while showing off his scars. I had to appease whatever they requested, though I could, of course, tone it down.

The Girret were a species that we’d known long before, and our first contact with them was when we discovered the incidence of capsaicin. It was written as a bit of a diplomatic disaster, though we all came to laugh about it later on; their ambassador screamed at the first bite, while Derandi stared, baffled by the aliens’ behavior. They were the extraterrestrials who we’d encountered first, settling the probability of whether other people were out there. Until that point, they’d been quiet and soft-spoken, as we understood mere pieces of each other’s languages after months of back-and-forth.

“It sped up the advance of computers, trying to formulate translation algorithms,” I told Kayla, as much to pass the time as anything. We’d identified the troublesome chemical in time and accounted for it, though the flavor in alien cuisine was so lacking. “By the time the Vascar came around, we knew a lot more. I’m sure humans will get there, and be more comfortable with this too after you’re…used to aliens. Us and the Girret have been partners.”

The human chef chuckled bitterly. “We won’t be comfortable with anyone if Sol is destroyed. We just wait, and wait, and wait!”

“That was what it was like with Temura. You saved us, so surely you can save yourselves. Your people care about your own home, with certainty. I’ve seen reason to believe in them, and so have you. Let’s just…focus on trifles, until it’s all over? Unless you’re uncomfortable with me. I…would like to learn more about you. You’re terrifying, yet you act so…humble.”

“We act the way we’ve always acted, Vanare, because we haven’t changed. We’re not used to these physical capabilities any more than aliens; it’s cool and scary to us too. That’s why Larimak’s trying to attack us. And like I told you, there’s huge tradeoffs to having a harsh dimension that we didn’t understand then, but we definitely do now.”

“You can go through portals though, and it allows you to see the future. That would kill other organics.”

“Except the Elusians. What’s their deal?”

I trilled with amusement. “Oh Kayla, our first interactions with them were following some strange readings. A small checkpoint for a portal, it seemed, and they explained who they were. The astronaut that went out there came home and spoke of ‘an effortless mastery of all things.’ If you attracted their intrigue or supervision…”

“We did. There are stories in our pop culture of aliens that look just like them, abducting us.”

“Then perhaps you can do something they can’t. I suspect it’s not solely capsaicin intake. Either you’re a threat to them, and while I mean, your capabilities do astound, their power is unfathomable; the Derandi don’t anger the Elusians, because they could erase and overrule the greatest things we’ve built! We don’t understand them, but we know they stay away and have little interest in our affairs. We’re happy not to draw their ire.”

“Humanity hasn’t done anything but exist, so I don’t see why they’d keep us…walled in! Trapped! Oh, that’s just what we need: Elusians coming for us too, right on the heels of Larimak! We just wanted to know what’s out here.” Kayla leaned her head back and sucked in a sharp breath, then made a hesitant gesture for me to go on. “There was an ‘either’ at the start of you saying that we’re a threat to them. What’s the other option?”

“It’s possible you’re unique enough to draw their interest. If nothing else, you’re the rare species that can travel through portals. As far as we know, they’re the only ones. They’re also godlike and hardly willing to spare a word from us, beyond the simplest explanation of the portals. That said, I’m a chef, so what I know of politicking is through a few banquets and my friendship with Prime Minister Anpero.”

“No, I appreciate hearing your thoughts. The Derandi got a simple explanation. The Elusians never told us anything about why they made Sol humanity’s prison, or why they snatched us off of our own world. I don’t know what anyone wants from us, but they might be the worst of all: studying us for their own whims without a care for ours.”

I didn’t contest Kayla’s sentiment, as I understand that from the human perspective, the handling of the Sol dimension must seem rather unfair. With that said, I recalled how Anpero felt there was little choice but to grovel, and the scuffling of feathers as I was dragged toward my execution for a minor offense. Whether the dimension-hoppers intended such or not, the reality was that they could impose their wishes on us. Were the Elusians protecting Caelum, under the eye of their interdimensional empire, and the humans accidentally got loose? We’d heeded their directives and maintained our noninterference with their affairs.

There are obvious reasons why a species that can rip through concrete must be contained. Humanity is breaking the balance we have here in Caelum, and that’s validation that all of us should be concerned. What if they spread further? They could have an interdimensional empire in no time too, cleaning up all the little species like us. Perhaps it wouldn’t be good if they got comfortable.

Kayla’s expression contorted with concern. “Did I say something wrong, Vanare? Is everything alright?”

“I considered that the Elusians were protecting us from you,” I admitted, hesitancy creeping up into my tone. “Cordoning off a…multiverse-level threat, even.”

“Is that really what you think of humanity? We came here with a hand of friendship. We just want to explore and…save Mikri’s people.”

I rubbed my crown, weighing the benefits of allying with such powerful people versus having to forever rely on the beneficence to never falter. “It’s what I think of your capabilities. The way they could be used. It wouldn’t be entirely ill-intentioned if the Elusians didn’t want to allow such a possibility. Of course, no one knows their motives, but…you know what it would be like, if you set out to…conquer.”

“We’re past such barbarism. Truly. Maybe that’s why the Elusians didn’t stop us from escaping; humanity has grown past any of that! We’re ready to dimension hop.”

“I—I hope so. I don’t wish to offend, Kayla, but it’s just a lot to chew on. Not that I don’t imagine it’s overwhelming for you too. I could use a lighter distraction, honestly, than wars and guessing a silent, mercurial godlike empire’s whims. It’s a long shot, but do you have any performance cooking?”

Kayla’s face lit up as she pulled out her electronic device, and searched until she located a video of a human chef chopping up a venous white vegetable; the food maestro stacked rings of the vegetable, which got progressively smaller until it reminded me of a volcano, like we had on Temura’s Laqaui Islands. I remembered a special I’d done with fruits grown in volcanic soil, which were high in nutrients and made a high-end pepper we called the Bursting Pepper. My beaks watered at the thought of it, though I tried to focus on what the Earthling was doing here.

Diners were gathered around a stainless steel table watching the chef plate their meal live, in what looked like a mundane scene; it was evident the humans enjoyed small expressions of art, like any normal beings. The vegetable volcano appeared to be the right comparison, because the cook lit its apex on fire—to the onlookers’ delight. I noted the wonderful work moving the foods with the knives in the video. Every movement of his hands was purposeful and dramatized, exactly what my shows thrived on. It just lacked choreographed movements between stations in a special kitchen set.

I could make a show with one of these chefs, if the humans do continue to be friendly…and Sol survives. That said, with the travel speeds in their dimension, it would take years for them to arrive at best. Perhaps Kayla could learn the artform, or appear with me? That would be presumptive, of course, when she must want to check up on her family after all of this.

“That’s delightful!” I exclaimed with sincerity. “I have to incorporate some of this. I’ve had Girret slither chefs juggle plates on my show, and I’ve been thinking for a decade how I could ever one-up that. It visually pops and it’s some new material.”

Kayla tilted her head, smiling. “Slither chefs? That sounds…weird. Are they crawling on the floor?”

“Of course? I’m not sure I follow—that’s how the Girret get around. But this is a special kind of movement; you’d love the way they use their tails. And they’re always so serious.”

The human hesitated, as if something about that bothered her, but decided not to ask any further. “Do the Derandi have a ‘movement’ chef? Obviously, they have you, but I mean some kind of replicable artform.”

“We fly. Divebombing for pans and picking them up, it’s simple but satisfying. Pecking open nut shells or mollusks, in a rhythmic, almost drumlike way—it can be musical if you pick the right object and timing. I’m the first to take choreographed cooking to this level and with this much…flamboyance in the background, always some kind of stunt. Performative chefs have been with the Derandi since we built our first fires, almost.”

“That sounds incredible. It, uh, might melt my heart, to be honest. Your show would do numbers on Earth, I think. I, for one, would love to see that!”

“Thank you,” I chuckled, hoping Kayla wasn’t just being polite. Preston and Sofia had loved my cooking, but expecting them to appreciate my show’s performances might not translate, at least not beyond the few individuals who loved cooking. “I don’t have reception, so I can’t show you now. That said, maybe you can look it up if and when you get a chance?”

“Sure! I definitely will, and I appreciate you talking with me. It’s helped me get my mind off of things, and…you seem like a cool guy. I hope this is all over soon, and you can make a safe return home in no time.”

“Let’s hope so, for both of our sakes. If I have to be trapped here, I think I found the right person to pass the time with. It’s been enlightening for me.”

Kayla offered a nod of acknowledgment, and we fell into another brooding silence as the battle for the Space Gate raged on outside. I was hoping for a human victory against Larimak, even after the realization of what was possible with their capabilities—and why the Elusians might’ve wanted to keep them locked up. The dimension-hoppers deserved the same chance to make friends and explore as anyone else, if they were truly this mundane. I was itching to get in the kitchen with one of them and to sample their cuisine, and I hoped that the genocidal attack on the portal wouldn’t ruin such a wonderful opportunity.

Next

A/N - Part 2! Vanare recounts the Derandi’s diplomatic history with the Girret and how other races reacted to spicy food, as well as discussing their interactions with the Elusians—and speculating on the grays’ motives with some understanding about possibly wanting to contain Sol. We also trade some performative cooking stories, with Vanare learning about hibachi and Kayla hearing about slither chefs and divebombing Derandi ones.

Whose cooking habits sound the most interesting with you, and what human ones do you imagine could take off? What Sol food do you think Vanare and the Derandi overall would enjoy? How do you feel about our narrators’ attitudes and his blossoming friendship with Kayla?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!