"James White - SG 09 - Galactic Gourmet" - читать интересную книгу автора (White James)

"Fascinating," said Gurronsevas, thinking that this Yaroch-Kar was unusually
knowledgeable where hospital cuisine was concerned. Perhaps it thought of itself as a
gourmet, and he was anxious to continue the conversation. He went on, "At the
Cromingan-Shesk we had to import live greeps, usually crottled, which made them a
rare and expensive delicacy. But isn't it theoretically possible to produce a meal that
would be metabolically suited to, and attract and satisfy the appetites of all warm-
blooded oxygen-breathers? A dish that would combine the visual appearance and
taste sensations of, say, the Kelgian crelletin vine-shoots, Melfan swamp nuts, and
greeps, of course, Orligian skarkshi, Nallajim bird-seed, Earth-human steak, and
spaghetti, too, and our own...Is something wrong?"
With the exception of the hovering Prilicla the other entities at the table were
making loud, untranslatable noises. It was the Earth-human who replied.
"Wrong?" it said. "The very idea is driving us to the point of imminent
regurgitation."
Prilicla made a short, trilling sound which did not translate, then went on, "I can
detect no feelings of emotional or digestive distress, friend Gurronsevas. They are
exaggerating their verbal responses for humorous effect. Do not concern yourself."
"I understand," said Gurronsevas, returning all attention to the Cinrusskin. "Does
weaving the spaghetti strands into a cable also aid your digestion?"
"No, friend Gurronsevas," Prilicla replied. "It is done for my own amusement."
"When I was very young," Yaroch-Kar joined in, "which was a long time ago, I
can remember being verbally chastised for playing with my food."
"I, too, have a similar memory," said Prilicla. "But now that I have grown up to
be big and strong, I can do as I please."
For a moment Gurronsevas stared in astonishment at the thin, egg-shell body,
spidery limbs and incredibly fragile wings then he, too, joined the others in making
the untranslatable sounds that were his own Tralthan equivalent of laughter.
Chapter 4

A lengthy period of wakeful thinking, so concentrated that he had no clear idea of the
elapsed time, was interrupted by the insistent sound and flashing light of his door
signal. It was Lieutenant Timmins.
"Please excuse the interruption, sir," it said briskly. "I trust you slept well. Is
there anywhere special you would like to visit or people you want to meet? The
catering computer, the food synthesizer banks, the ward diet kitchens or the food
technicians responsible for..."
Gurronsevas held up two of his upper limbs, loosely crossed in the non-verbal
request for silence, a Tralthan gesture which Timmins must have understood because
he stopped talking at once.
"For the present," said Gurronsevas, "none of those things. I know that you must
have other duties, Lieutenant. So long as they permit it, I would prefer to have no
close personal contact or conversation with anyone but yourself."
"I have other duties, naturally," said Timmins, "but I also have an assistant who
tries very hard to make me feel redundant. For the next two days, and thereafter at
mutually convenient times, I will be at your disposal. What would you like to do
first?"
It was plain that Timmins was becoming impatient, but Gurronsevas did not
move. He said, "At the risk of sounding repetitious and tedious, hopefully for the last
time, I must remind you of my former position on Nidia. The Cromingan-Shesk was a
very large, multi-species hotel and its kitchens, of which I had overall charge, were