Bribe 1 (Patreon)

@Piedunk and @Khurri Thealic requested a story about a krakun commissioner who was deathly phobic of geroo.

What an interesting idea! Anyhow, this one will take some introducing...

———

Captain Ime stood at attention and forced a smile on his ears. The geroo stared at the large screen at the front of the bridge. On the display shone a krakun’s face—too close to the camera, all fangs and tri-tipped tongue. “Commissioner … Lorescahere? Sir, there must have been some miscommunication. I was certain that the memo said that Commissioner—”

The krakun talked right over him, not waiting for the geroo to finish, “Captain, have you ever been bribed?”

Ime blinked and stood in stunned silence for a long moment before he remembered how to speak. “Sir?”

The krakun’s yellow eyes moved closer to the camera. “Have you ever accepted a bribe?” he asked once more.

The captain’s eyes flitted around the bridge momentarily. Ime had actually taken a bribe once, early in his career, but he doubted that any of the bridge crew would know that. So, he lied, “No, sir. I’ve never taken a bribe. Why—?”

“Well, I expect you to take this one, Captain,” said Commissioner Lorescahere. “In two days, your ship is due for its regular inspection. I want you to film your meeting with the new commissioner, and send me a copy of it.”

Ime’s ears stood upright. “What?”

“Plant a camera in the commissioner’s state room,” he repeated slowly, “film your meeting with the commissioner, and get me the tape.”

Captain Ime scowled. “So, you’re not our new commissioner.”

“Of course, I’m not Commissioner Eriddia,” huffed the krakun in irritation.

“And so why—?”

“Tell me, Captain,” said the krakun, talking over the geroo once more. “Have you ever had a trunt steak?”

Captain Ime really wanted to sit down. This conversation was hurting his head, and he was no longer convinced that he needed to show the krakun respect by standing. “A trunt steak?” he squeaked. “How would…? We don’t have any large livestock aboard this ship!”

“I thought not,” said the krakun with a grin, “but I have a ship in my fleet that actually raises the beasts. And I could get you say… one hundred kilos of steak—aged, individually packed, and frozen—if you would do me this favor…”

# # #

Captain Ime had spent the last two days poring through ancient texts and cookbooks for the best way to cook a steak. He loved to cook, but he’d never had a real hunk of meat to experiment with.

Aboard a gate ship—his gate ship, at least—there was a wide variety of foods: grains, roots, berries, fruits, vegetables, fungi, and insects raised by the millions. There was even a single type of meat: noresca. He’d never actually seen a noresca—no one aboard had—but he’d read about them. They were some sort of flightless waterfowl back on Gerootec.

Though not particularly noteworthy from a culinary perspective, noresca did have one attribute which made them especially well-suited for life aboard a gate ship: their cells were easy to clone. And as such, the ship had converted a vast warehouse into a meat factory.

Up on the agricultural deck, conveyor belts hauled off waste like leaves, stems, and roots to a pulverizer that turned the plants into a deep green broth which was then pumped into a series of bioreactors on the factory floor. Inside the tanks, those nutrients fed an endless supply of quick growing noresca muscle cells that grew and divided, grew and divided, grew and divided.

Skimmers separated out the cellular waste—which was pumped right back to the agricultural deck for use as fertilizer—while centrifuges separated the mature cells from the immature. Reverse osmosis filters turned the mature cell cultures from a broth to a stew to a pudding which was then loaded into rectangular molds where it would congeal into single kilogram bricks that supplied both restaurants and merchants alike.

The bricks were nutritious and an excellent source of protein, but flavor-wise … the meat was nothing special. With the right seasonings and care to prevent over-cooking—the bricks were all lean muscle with no fat—the noresca made a decent sandwich meat. Mostly, the geroo used bitesize chunks of the meat in stews and chilis to make them heartier, but eating a noresca “steak” as the centerpiece of a meal? No, not so much.

The same was not true of trunt steak! Back on Gerootec, kings had gone to war over the prime grasslands that fed herds of trunt. Farmers that raised the tastiest breeds lived well above their stations, and the chefs that could prepare a steak worthy of royalty were treated like rock stars.

The mere thought of a trunt steak made Captain Ime’s mouth water. And for what? Recording his meeting with the new commissioner? How absurd.

Ime had been meeting with Commissioner Verisuta once every two weeks for the past fifteen years—until her promotion last month, that was. And of all those hundreds and hundreds of meetings, not one of them had been particularly interesting. Ninety-nine percent of them, in fact, entailed nothing more than Captain Ime standing at attention while the commissioner paged through the ship’s report. Then, before leaving, the krakun would pick one arbitrary aspect of the ship’s performance and reprimand him for it not being perfect.

“Your engines are operating at ninety-seven percent efficiency,” she might say. “That’s absolutely disgraceful, Captain.”

“I accept full responsibility,” Ime would automatically reply with downcast eyes. “We’ll get that efficiency up where it belongs before your next inspection, ma’am.”

And then, she’d head out, leaving Captain Ime with just a, “See that you do.”

So, why did Commissioner Lorescahere want video of Commissioner Eriddia’s first inspection? Why did he care? And more importantly, why was he so interested that getting the video was worth a bribe?

The bridge crew had discussed the possibilities endlessly, debated, even taken bets, but Captain Ime doubted that any of their guesses could be correct. He had no hunches of his own, but he’d gladly play along if that meant some real meat in their larder!

“Captain,” said Lieutenant Doteas, shaking Ime from his thoughts, “Commissioner Eriddia’s shuttle has come through the gate.”

The captain nodded. “Open the docking bay, and let’s get this inspection underway.”

“Affirmative,” replied Doteas. Then, into a microphone, she said, “The docking bay door is open, Commissioner, and we’re ready for you to dock.”

But instead of confirming the instructions, a krakun voice filled the bridge, “Transmit a copy of the ship logs since your previous inspection.”

Captain Ime turned to the bridge’s display screen, but it remained darkened. With a quizzical set to his ears, he pointed to the screen.

Lieutenant Doteas shrugged. She covered her mic, explaining, “The call is voice-only, Captain.”

Ime shrugged too. He took the strand from his shoulder and with a flick, transferred the log file to Doteas’s station. “Transmit the logs, I guess.”

The lieutenant tapped on a screen and spoke into her microphone, “Yes, Commissioner. You should have them now.”

Then, the bridge crew waited in silence as an agonizingly long minute dragged by. Doteas, scowling, keyed her microphone again, “Commissioner, the docking bay door is open, and we’re ready for your arrival.”

But still nothing.

The lieutenant turned to Captain Ime and covered her microphone. “Sir? The shuttle is sitting there, right next to the gate. She hasn’t moved.”

Ime perked an ear then announced, “Commissioner Eriddia, is there a malfunction? Do we need to call on one of the support ships—?”

“I see here,” said the krakun voice, talking over Captain Ime, “that the ship’s heat exchangers were damaged two weeks ago, but the explanation of how they were damaged is unsatisfactory. Explain.”

The captain’s ears stood high in surprise. “Uh,” he said, not sure how to respond. He chewed his lower lip for a moment. “Yes, well, after you dock, I’ll escort you to the exchangers so you can inspect—”

“Dispatch an officer to the heat exchangers,” said Commissioner Eriddia. “I want them to point their strand’s camera at the damaged section, then patch the live feed through to my shuttle. I’ll direct them, tell them what I want to see.”

“Um, okay,” mumbled Ime. He turned to Doteas, but a junior officer—Jaque—was already rising from her seat.

“I’ll do it,” volunteered Jaque.

Captain Ime nodded to the junior officer and shooed her on her way with a flick of his paw. Jaque wasn’t a full member of the bridge crew currently. Mostly, she was observing and helping out until her promotion came through.

“Yes, Commissioner,” said the captain. “I’ve dispatched Officer Jaque to handle that video link for you. We’ll patch that through when she has it online.”

A pause, then the krakun spoke again, “I’m still waiting for an explanation, Captain. How did the heat exchangers get damaged?”

Ime’s ears fell slowly. “Wouldn’t you rather discuss this in your stateroom?” he asked.

“An explanation…” repeated the krakun.

Lieutenant Doteas covered her mic. “Is she not coming aboard?”

Oh, no! thought the captain. Not coming aboard means no in-person meeting. No meeting means no video. And no video … that means no bribe! “Um, ma’am? Company protocol says that I’m to meet you at the shuttle—”

“If I don’t dock in the shuttle bay,” said the krakun, “then you’ll have no responsibility to meet me. Now, about—”

“But the tradition is,” said the captain, scrambling for an excuse to get her to meet him in her stateroom, “that you are to—”

“New commissioner,” she said, “new traditions. Now, about those heat exchangers…”

———

Reviewer's link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1PK_CdNlvvnNIyrbxVIkXDGfzLlaamA0Pi1_lCCUt1Ow/edit?usp=sharing

Thoughts?