James White - The Galactic Gourmet

The conversation could not have been more technical, Gurronsevas thought as he directed all of his eyes towards Murchison, if they had been designing a spaceship.

“Thanks to your suggestion,” he said, “our test object should act as well as look like the food animal it is meant to be. That is important because there is much more to food than its outward appearance. There are also taste, smell, consistency, visual presentation, and contrasting or complementing sauces which, I hope to demonstrate in time, are vital accompaniments to the often bland edible material that the hospital synthesizers provide. In the case of our Chalder we have been able to reproduce the consistency with the hard shell that encloses the soft contents, and the presentation, which is the mobility of a dish that is apparently trying to escape being eaten. But that is all.”

“Go on,” said Murchison, opening both of its eyes.

“In the present instance,” said Gurronsevas, “the difficulty of adding a conventional sauce to a dish that is moving rapidly underwater is well-nigh insurmountable. The thick-shelled, immobile eggs currently being fed to AUGL patients, in spite of the artificial taste additives they contain, are most unappetizing. To an Earth-human like yourself an analogy would be that they taste like cold mashed potato sandwiches …”

“My department was consulted about those artificial taste additives,” Murchison broke in, “to make sure there would be no harmful side-effects. The taste concentration can easily be increased if that is what you want.”

“It isn’t,” said Gurronsevas firmly. “The diner, I mean the patient, is aware of the artificial taste and finds it objectionable. I had it in mind to reduce the taste components in the material rather than increase them, it being more difficult for the sensorium to detect artificially in trace quantities than in heavy concentrations. My plan, or rather my hope, is to mask the diluted artificial taste with a sauce that requires no physical ingredients. Instead I will rely on the best condiment of all, hunger, reinforced by the excitement of the chase and the uncertainty of capturing the meal. Intellectually the Chalder will know that it is being fooled, but subconsciously it might not care.”

“Nice, very nice,” said Murchison approvingly. “I’m pretty sure that will work. But you are missing a bet.”

“A, a bet?”

“Sorry, an Earth-human expression,” it said, and went on, “When a land animal is being hunted it usually emits a special body odor, a glandular secretion indicative of its fear and increased level of physical activity, and the same may hold true here. Synthesized fear pheromones — in this case, in the form of a fast-dispersing water-borne scent — could be released into the propulsion system, again in trace quantities so as to hide the fact that they are artificial.”

“Pathologist, I am most grateful,” Gurronsevas said excitedly. If your department can provide me with this substance, then the solution to my Chalder problem is complete. Can you do so, and how soon?”

“We can’t,” Murchison said, shaking its head. “At least, not yet. We will have to investigate the physiology and endocrinology of a food animal about which the medical library may not be fully informed. And if a secretion of the type we are postulating exists, it would take a few days to analyze and reproduce the molecular structure and test the synthetic variety for possibly harmful side-effects. Until then, Gurronsevas, save your thanks.”

For a long moment he stared at the pathologist as closely as Timmins had done earlier, although not for the same reason, at the ridiculous, wobbling bulges on its upper thorax and the disproportionately small, Earth-human head which in this case held a mind that could never be described as tiny. He was about to thank it again when there was an interruption from Timmins.

“It’s ready to launch, sir,” said the Lieutenant. “Same depth as last time?”

“Thank you, yes,” said Gurronsevas.

Once again the test vehicle was lowered carefully into the water and held in position below the surface. Timmins said, “This time I’ve loaded attitude thrusters on the port side only so that, if the new stabilizers work and the thing achieves some distance, it will circle back to us. On the synthesized production version the changes of depth and direction will be random and …Bloody hell!”

A large, brightly-colored ball, inflated to near-solidity, had landed with a loud thump on the raft where it had bounced twice before rolling into the water beside them. Instinctively one of the Melfan technicians raised a pincer to push it away.

“Leave it and hold still!” said the Lieutenant sharply. “Don’t disturb the water. The jet seals are melting and we’re committed to a launch …There she goes.”

The vehicle began to move forward, slowly at first but steadily picking up speed, and this time in a perfectly straight line. When the first lateral thrust came it changed direction sharply and proceeded on the new course without sideslipping or apparent loss of speed. There was another abrupt change in direction, and another, both achieved cleanly and without loss of stability, and it was curving back towards them. A few seconds later, its compressed air capsules exhausted, it coasted to a stop beside the raft.

“It needs fine tuning,” said Timmins, pulling its lips into the widest Earth-human smile Gurronsevas had ever seen, “but that was a definite improvement.”

“Yes indeed,” said Gurronsevas, who could not smile but wished that he could. “Pathologist Murchison and yourself, and technicians Kledath and Dremon deserve the highest—”

He broke off because suddenly the immobile domed head of a fellow Tralthan was rising from the water beside them, followed by a waving tentacle wearing the arm band of a trainee nurse.

“Please,” it said, “can we have our ball back?”

Present for the trial of the first batch of the new food samples were, in descending order of rank, Senior Physician Edanelt, who had overall medical responsibility for the AUGL ward, Pathologist Murchison, Gurronsevas himself, Lieutenant Timmins, Charge Nurse Hredlichli, and the rest of the ward’s nursing staff. They were all packed so tightly into the Nurses’ Station that there was barely room for the food, which had been wrapped separately in five plastic envelopes to protect the thruster seals against premature contact with water. Patient AUGL-113 was drifting about thirty meters from the station’s entrance, its ribbon tentacles curling and uncurling slowly with impatience.

The normal meal of hard-shelled, artificial eggs had been served and the remains cleared away, and 113 had been told to expect a surprise, possibly a pleasant surprise.

At Gurronsevas’ signal, Timmins moved closer to help him strip off the plastic cover. In addition to the stabilizers, which were all but invisible as well as being not too bad to eat, the upper and lower surfaces of the self-propelled edible packages had been colored so that they closely resembled the grey-and-brown mottled shell of a young but fully-grown specimen of the original food animal. Murchison’s researches into the body markings, behavior, and glandular excretions under stress had been necessarily brief, but thorough.

Within a few seconds the main thruster seal melted and a thin stream of compressed air bubbled out. Gurronsevas and the Lieutenant held the package steady and then, to help it overcome the inertia and initial water resistance, gave it a firm push in the direction of 113.

The Chalder’s mouth opened wide, whether in surprise or anticipation they could not be sure, then its tremendous jaws crashed shut. But its prey had changed direction suddenly, climbing to pass over 113’s massive head and continuing into the tepid, green depths of the other end of the ward. The patient turned ponderously end for end and went after it. Distorted by the intervening water there came the sound of massive teeth closing on emptiness, followed by a noise like a discordant gong being struck as 113 collided with the resting-frame of an immobilized fellow patient, before it managed to catch the food-shell.