Do No Harm Page 15

  “We’ve heard rumors on Azure, Marinara. Not everyone speaks so highly of the Four Horsemen, or the other Human mercenaries. But some of the spacers say if a battle was brewing with MinSha or Besquith, they’d want the Humans on their side. I was told to be careful here on Earth and stay away from anyone associated with the mercenaries. That I needed to go quietly about my job research and interviews then return to Azure until an employment decision is made.”

  “Oh.” Marinara got the quiet, far-away look Meryll called his pinplant research. She assumed he was looking up entries on MinSha and Besquith, or merc group news.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  “What are your plans, Meryll?” Michael asked while Marinara pursued his research into aliens and mercenary groups.

  “I’m hoping for an intern position here on Earth to finish out my Master’s in food management. I learned a lot in my Azure classes, but I’d like to get experience here on Earth for about a year. My mother doesn’t want me to stay on Earth, but right now she’s busy with her own life, so I thought it was a good time to look around. Are you taking any college classes, Michael?”

  Michael grimaced. “Ran out of credits. This job with Marinara came along, so I took it to build my account back up, so I can get back to school. I want to finish my degree in political science. I might consider law school or running for legislative office, or even working with government agencies—here in America, preferably.”

  Meryll looked at Michael and assessed him. “Did you enjoy your travels across Europe?” She turned to Marinara and laughed. “Did you guys eat your way across Italy and France?”

  Marinara flashed amusement and then stopped. He remained silent, hanging off the edge of the tank.

  Meryll eyed him. “What?” She turned to Michael. “What is it?”

  Michael looked silently at Marinara. The two stared at each other. Michael finally broke the silence. “Do you want to tell her about Naples or should I?”

  “Why, what happened?” A muscle jumped in Meryll’s cheek as she clenched her jaw.

  “It’s a funny story, really. More like a misunderstanding of cultures, not a problem with alien relations.”

  Meryll sighed. “Tell me.”

  “Well, Marinara wanted to try every pizza place in Naples, but I wanted a chance to see some museums…”

  * * *

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay while I take this tour?”

  “Michael, it is nothing. Go enjoy your museums and castles. I will hang out in the square and watch people. I’ll be in my tank the whole time. Maybe I’ll motor around the corner and get some pastries. I’ll be okay, I promise you.”

  Michael looked at the Wrogul flashing earnestness at him. Repeatedly. There was something…

  “Why do you have a second translator with you?”

  “It is a backup, Michael, in case the tank translator fails.”

  “Fails, huh. Does that happen much?”

  “It is a reasonable precaution, Michael. I’m in a strange country where they are not used to seeing Wrogul. I should have a backup for emergencies….”

  “I dunno, I think I should take you with me.”

  “Michael, you know that’s not practical. I can’t take my tank up all those steps or into those narrow corridors. I shall sit here and people-watch, as they say.”

  “You be careful. Don’t flash your yack. Don’t let anyone near the tank. They could try to steal something.”

  “The tour bus is here, Michael. Go. Go, before it leaves.”

  After Michael left, Marinara sat contentedly in his tank and watched the people around him. Kids ran and played with balls. Scooters tooled around the square. Young couples walked hand-in-hand whispering to each other. Families with little ones in tow would stop every few feet and pull out their slates to read something or check a list. Old men argued with each other, throwing their arms into the air.

  Okay, it had been long enough.

  Marinara hopped out of his tank, slung his extra translator around his neck, and humped his way over to a scooter rental booth.

  “I wish to rent a scooter.”

  “Huh? What?”

  The young man looked over the counter.

  “Wha—? A talking octopus? Is dis a joke?”

  “I am not an Earth cephalopod. I am a sentient being, a Wrogul from the colony planet Azure.”

  The rental clerk stared at Marinara. “Dis ain’t no joke? You’re real?”

  “Yes, I am real. And I would like to rent a scooter.”

  “For real, huh? Ain’t you like a sea critter or som’t’ing? Our octopi gotta stay wet. How you gonna do dat?”

  Marinara hesitated…he hadn’t considered that. “What is the shortest timeframe for renting a scooter? I wish to try new experiences.”

  “I can let you rent for fifteen minutes if you use your yack to pay for it. You gotta fill out some waivers on dis slate. …And you gotta wear a helmet, which I’m not sure how you gonna do dat.”

  Marinara reached into his pouch for his UACC, then remembered Michael’s warning. He stilled for a moment as he thought through his actions. He threw two arms into the air and handed over the yack with a third. “Let us do this! I am ready to give this a try.”

  The man grinned, showing some missing teeth. “Dat’s da spirit!”

  Ten minutes later the Wrogul handed back the slate with all the signed waivers and insurance and safety precautions checked off. He squeezed into the largest helmet the clerk could find and left the chin straps dangling. The man offered to keep an eye on Marinara’s mobile tank, since the rental time was so brief. Marinara accessed his pinplant files on driving and scooters as the clerk ushered him to a small red scooter with a white seat and showed him the features.

  “Stay offa da square and stick to da back streets. Still, you gonna scare sum people. Be back in fifteen or I call da cops.”

  Marinara quickly scanned a file. “No problemo! I’ll be back!” He hopped onto the scooter, gunned the engine, and took off.

  This is incredible, he thought. The feel of the air across my arms. The rumble of the engine beneath me. The stink of fuel, the garbage piled along the walls. The people staring at me as I fly by. The kids playing soccer in the street. The kids—the kids playing—!

  * * * * *

  Chapter Six

  The blackness began to lift as Marinara became aware of the commotion around him. A woman was screaming, and a young boy was crying. He heard the slap of a hand against a face and a man’s gruff voice chastising someone. Cooking odors. The funk of overheated bodies, the smell of a young boy’s salty tears, spilled fuel, creaking leather—wait—was that the odor of gun oil? Marinara tried to move his arms and felt pain, dryness, and itchiness in every sucker of his body.

  “Hey, boss, dat t’ing’s movin’.”

  “T’row it in da sink. Dis is someone’s idee of a sick joke. Tell Freddy I expect some good octopus soup in a coupla hours. L’il T gonna be okay?

  “Yeah, boss, just scairt. I t’ink he’s more scairt o’ wat come flyin’ off da scooter. We tol’ him not ta play inna street, but kids!”

  A rough hand picked Marinara up by some of his arms and tossed him into a large metal sink. He whimpered.

  “Damn! Dat t’ing’s heavy! I dint know octopus were so heavy. I doan know how good it’ll be now. It’s been in da air awhile.”

  Marinara wheezed. His translator was gone. He whimpered again and whispered, “Help.”

  Across the floor, his translator squawked. “Help!”

  There was silence in the room.

  “What kinda joke is dis?” someone growled.

  “Help me, please. I am a sentient being.” Marinara didn’t know how much longer he could stay conscious. “I am from the colony planet Azure. I need to be in water.”

  More silence. Then several hands picked him up and he suddenly felt the cool, refreshing water splash over him. It was—it was—ugh! It was a saltwater aquarium! But it wa
s moisture.

  Marinara felt himself recovering and opened his eyes. Several Humans stared at him through the glass of the aquarium. His backup translator was in the hands of a short, barrel chested man with several scars along his face and arms. The man held his translator up to the glass and mouthed some words.

  “What are you?” squawked his translator. “Who sent you?”

  “My name is Marinara. I am a Wrogul from the colony planet Azure. I grew up there. I’m visiting Earth.”

  His commentary was greeted with silence.

  “I realize I look like an Earth cephalopod, but I’m not an octopus. Please, do not eat me.”

  Two of the men standing in the back of the crowd looked each other and began snickering. An elderly woman near the front of the aquarium crossed herself and tears began to flow down her face. The young boy with the tear-streaked face stood in front of the aquarium, his mouth pressed against the glass. The man holding his translator scowled and mouthed some more words.

  “What did you say your name was?”

  Moments later, Marinara was immersed in a barrel of salted water, not quite as distasteful as the aquarium water, but not as comfortable as his own tank. He busily explained to the scowling man he was on Earth to attend school, that he loved Italian cuisine, his plan to find every pizza place in Naples, how he was attending culinary school in New York in the fall, about his aide Michael who was taking a museum tour and would soon be worried sick he wasn’t in the square, and about the scooter rental man who was probably even now calling the cops to say Marinara had stolen the scooter. Marinara paused and took in his surroundings. He noticed the commercial kitchen and the odors of pasta, dough, garlic, and sauces. He heard the clink of dishes and cutlery from the other rooms.

  The man scowled some more and turned to one of the biggest men Marinara had ever seen. This one seemed to have even more scars than the scowling man. A toothpick rolled in his mouth as he received orders.

  “Vinnie, go to da square. Find Luigi and tell him Tony Gamboa takes full responsibility for da scooter. Tell him no cops. See if you can find dis mobile tank Marinara’s talkin’ about and bring it here. If Luigi pawned it, hold him upside down and shake him until he tells you where it is. Bang his head on da sidewalk a coupla times if he won’t talk. Send a kid over to da tour bus office. Tell da kid to wait for each bus until he finds Michael Capparelli, then bring him here. Freddy, get some dough goin’. Dis kid wants pizza? We’re gonna give him pizza!”

  The urchin with the tear-stained face crept up to the barrel and pulled himself up to look inside. He offered a tentative smile, then stuck his thumb in his mouth. Marinara looked at the child curiously.

  The scowling man turned back to Marinara. “Li’l Wrogul, you say you wanna be the best chef in the galaxy, I’m gonna give you da chance to show me wha’ you got. Freddy over dere is gonna give you run of his kitchen and we’ll see wha’ you can do as soon as you feel up t’ it.” At the last comment the man named Freddy looked up in alarm and moved some of his kitchen knives to a higher shelf.

  “I gotta hankerin’ for calamari, li’l Wrogul. Can you do som’d’ing wi’ dat?”

  * * *

  Meryll held her stomach, screaming with laughter. Michael shook his head.

  “Turns out Tony Gamboa was back in the old country laying low for a few years. He was running things locally until he could return to the States. He said nobody could make calamari the way he liked it better than his boy Marinara. One of his thugs, Vinnie, asked if he could send apprentices to the States to study Marinara’s knife skills. We stayed in his country villa for a week while he escorted Marinara to every pizza place they could find. He also brought in his mama and had her cook some of their old family recipes for us. I had the keys to the kingdom and got some great behind-the-scenes tours of the museums and the Pompeii exhibits. Turns out it was his grand-nephew, Little Tony, who ran into the street in front of Marinara’s scooter. Mari jumped the sidewalk and ran into the side of a building rather than hit the kid. When we left, the kid told Marinara he was going to grow up to be a spacer and visit Azure.”

  Marinara hung over the edge of his tank. He loved nothing better than to hear Meryll laugh. He loved having her around again, even if it was only for a short visit.

  Michael stood up and placed his empty glass into the dish bin. “Are you all set with your bedding? I can help if you need to set something up. Otherwise, I’ll mosey across the hall and see you folks in the morning. Mari’s got classes, and I’m sure you’ll want to start your contact calls.”

  Meryll smiled. “Thanks, Michael, but I’m set with Marinara. Have a good night’s rest, and we’ll see you in the morning.”

  Marinara’s awareness returned, and he sighed. He had been reviewing files with his pinplants while Michael told of their visit to Naples. “There are many awful things going on in the Galactic Union,” he finally said. “I must take some time and read more about the current events. I was so satisfied with my time in culinary schools that I never kept track of other communities in the Union. I must spend some time catching up.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Marinara was more subdued over the next few days after his initial excitement over Meryll’s visit had passed. He was still immersed in catching up on Galactic news, though his cooking classes were his first priority. He had access to more sauces, more proteins, and different vegetables than on Azure. This week was oysters and conch dishes. It was strawberry week and puff pastries in another class. Molecular Gastronomy had them resolving chemistry problems. The instructors were assigning additional reading and homework, and project taste-tests were looming.

  Meryll was immersed in setting up interviews, and Michael had shown an interest in resuming his college classes online. With the busy week ending, the three had made plans for a relaxing grilled dinner on the weekend. Michael was tasked with picking out the American wines to accompany the dinner.

  Marinara was busy slicing and dicing in his kitchen when Meryll and Michael entered the apartment. “Ah, you are here,” he said. “The solar grill is set up on the outside landing.” He reached out with one arm to open the glass door while propelling the plate of beef steaks to the grill with another. “I have a surprise for you. I have made friends at the academy, and they are coming to dinner.”

  Meryll and Michael looked at each other in confusion.

  “Tell us more. Who is coming to dinner?” Meryll asked.

  Marinara laughed. “I have heard of that old video. I have met two friends who traveled to Earth. Brull is attending a legal workshop. Ch’c’lt is studying Human cuisine for her new restaurant on Karma.”

  They’re…” Meryll hesitated. “They’re aliens?”

  “Yes,” Marinara replied. “But I have told them that even though I am Human, I respect their differences. Ch’c’lt is curious about my recipes. She has heard of my success at school and wishes my advice regarding her family’s restaurant. We have been experimenting with names to draw Human mercenaries in. I met Brull in the hotel café next door to the academy. He is fascinated with Earth law enforcement. He is expanding his knowledge in his workshop. He was quite surprised to see me and find out I was taking classes on Earth. I explained I budded and matured on the planet Azure. He said he would like to meet all of us, that is why I invited him to dinner.”

  Michael shrugged. “The more the merrier, I guess,” he said.

  Meryll laughed. “Travel the Galaxy. Meet Wrogul. Eat new food. Friend new races.”

  * * *

  Meryll and Michael set up the dining area while Marinara was busy at his grill. Beef steaks and root vegetables were on the menu for the evening, He was experimenting with grilled vegetables as well, which he hoped would impress Ch’c’lt, and had a salad of greens chilling in the cooler. Michael advised Marinara the menu would be a good representation of American—particularly American mercenary—cuisine.

  “Is this really a good idea?” Meryll asked softly. �
��I’ve only met a few alien races that have traded with Azure, but I’ve heard those guys talk about how many Union citizens don’t like Humans.”

  “We can stay alert.” Michael shrugged. “I don’t think Mari is in trouble. He’s probably an oddity to them. We’ll play it cool and listen closely to the conversations, see if we can feel them out on what their people are thinking. My brother says there are a lot of aliens who work for the Winged Hussars…aliens who normally hate Humans. Maybe these two are outliers, as well. He just recommended that we keep a close eye on our visitors.”

  * * *

  The buzzer sounded, startling them all, and Marinara reached out to the receiving unit. “Yes?” he queried.

  “Marinara, we are here!” his two visitors said.

  “I will buzz you in,” he responded. “I am in 103A.”

  At the knock on the door, Marinara leaped from his mobile tank and rushed across the floor to the door, reaching it at the same time as Michael. His aide smiled fondly. “You are quite excited, Marinara.”

  “Friends! These are my friends coming for dinner!”

  “Yes, well, we’re excited to meet them, too. It will be a good dinner. You always do well.”

  Michael opened the door and hesitated only slightly as he stared at the two visitors.

  “Ch’c’lt!” Marinara exclaimed as what looked like a millipede slid into the room and stopped to look around. “Brull!” Marinara held out four of his arms to embrace the stocky humanoid figure before him.

  “These are my Human friends, Michael and Meryll. They help me with my classes and are helping me create my signature dishes. Tonight, we try something different!”

  Michael held out his hand to Brull and saw a flicker of amusement pass over his—her?—face.