“So what does Me-yay–, Meh-ay” Tessa paused, brows knitting as she took a sip of her coffee, made a gesture.
“My-ee-aye-lay” Jiri layed it out carefully, made a gesture. “Myyaelae”
“What is it that Myyaelae does around here?” She watched him over the rim of her cup as she pulled in a long, leisurely sip of coffee. “Why bring a Gnarian on board with a project like this? They’ve got no real practical experience with Coralate technology.”
“No, but, ah, the Gnarians, they,” He took a sip of his coffee, watched the surface, made his own simple gesture. “They have some experience with the concept of living metal.”
“Living metal?” Tessa hesitated, glanced at her coffee, glanced back. “You mean like the way their ships have that, er...” She gestured. “That cohesive biosteel stuff that allows them to change their shape in flight?”
“Mmm!” Jiri nodded quickly. “Yes, yes.”
Tessa arched an eyebrow carefully. “And it’s the same as the technology that the Coralate is using to kick our ass out there?”
“No, no not the same.” Jiri set down his coffee, made a careful gesture. “Very different. Gnarian biosteel is actually organism. Cygnan composite is modified at atomic level by waveform and vibration, gives illusion of life.”
“So we’re back to my original question, then.” She gave a weak, ironic laugh, took another long sip of her coffee. “Why bring a Gnarian on board?”
“Because they know more about basic principles of nanomorphic metal than anyone in entire Commonwealth.” Another gesture, offering, open-handed. “If we were to have any hope of understanding Coralate technology, we knew we would have to bring someone from Gnarian Science Conclave here to help us.”
Tessa shook her head. “Amazing the Alliance went for it.”
“Yes, well, it took some doing, I’ve heard.”
“Hm.” Tessa nodded noncommitally. “Do you get a lot of XT’s out this way?”
“No, not usually.” He said simply, hesitating a moment in thought. “Doctor Ngiko on red level is on loan from Imnigrad homeworld, but that is it.”
Tessa’s eyebrows rose,
“What’s it like working with one of them?”
“Different. Very different.” Jiri smiled briefly. “You see, Imnigradi communicate through pheromone secretion, so translation unit is most miraculous machine I have ever seen. It literally convert sound to complex series of tactile patterns on Ngiko’s belt which he, er... it, then mentally convert into thought pattern for equivalent smells.” He paused, grinned excitedly. “After a while, you start to recognize certain general scent like frustration or, er, relief, but on the whole mostly you just find yourself wondering if you look as repulsive to them as they do to you.”
“I bet.” She drained the last of her coffee, set the little recycled paper cup on the table between them. “Look, no offense to you or your station, Jiri, but I’m not much of a cold weather person and I’ve got a schedule to keep with the Hephaestus, so. . .” She trailed off, letting the words hang in the wake of their unspoken conclusion.
Jiri hesitated for a moment, confused, then nodded suddenly, the edges of smile breaking across his features. “Right! Yes, of course.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Of course. I am sure that suspension berth is ready by now. I will check with Myyaelae to make sure, but for now we can get you down to surgical bay and begin sedation process.”
“The, ah,” Tessa hesitated, gestured to her empty cup. “The coffee won’t. . .?”
“The coffee?” Jiri blinked, then shook his head suddenly. “Oh no.” He grinned. “The café, it only serve decaff.”
“Now he tells me.” She grinned back.
“Placebo effect.” His grin spread, widened. “Most pilots I have met are addicted to some stimulant or other. Coffee is most common.”
“Smart man.” She gave him a wink, the edge of a grin.
Jiri laughed wryly. “So they tell me.”