Chapter 26. Charles’ lies
Charles had spent twenty-four hours on the Republic and slept through the first afternoon. So except for the infirmary and conference room, he has not seen other parts of the spacecraft. In the morning, he recounted his experience to fleet officials. It was all so tiring for him that he returned to bed exhausted. The computer still monitors his vital signs, displaying the results on a bedside monitor. This monitoring is still necessary. Although he is no longer in immediate life danger, he is still very weak. Loss of vital organ functions, although now unlikely, cannot be completely ruled out. However, he has passed the most difficult stage. His condition has stabilized and the prognosis is good. Once he wakes up, he will be able to stand on his own and may even be able to leave the infirmary in a short time. However, an explosion of muscle strength in various parts of the body is currently not possible.
The captain has concluded that there is no danger to Charles and withdraws the infirmary security team. This decision pleased Dr. Celia. She didn't like seeing armed security officers roaming the infirmary. She felt disturbed while doing her job, even as the officers stood silently in the corner.
"All indicators are now back within the normal range," Dr. Mistan, Celia's deputy, read out the values. She seemed pleased with the progress of her recovery.
Celia stood in the doorway of the office, leaning against the door frame. "Normal by our standards," she reminded.
Mistan nodded. "True. But comparison to human standards is absolutely correct so far." Mistan was right. They treated Charles according to human standards and the treatment was very effective. There is no reason to doubt the durability of the effects.
Charles moved his head slowly. Apparently, he had been awakened by their brief conversation. He opened his eyes briefly, then immediately closed them again. After a few seconds, he tried again, blinking carefully to adjust to the bright surroundings.
"Where am I?" he stammered, trying to assume a defensive posture.
"Don't worry, you're safe. You're in the infirmary," Mistan tried to reassure him. However, her dark hair didn't seem to calm Charles down as quickly as Celia's blonde hair.
Gradually, Charles became aware of his surroundings. He slowly relaxed his tense muscles. He seemed to remember where he was. "Can I get up?" he asked the doctor. He hadn't noticed Dr. Celia yet.
"Yes, of course," Mistan nodded. "How are you feeling?"
Charles sat up quicker than one would expect. "I feel fine. It's just that I'm a little hungry." His stomach growled, emphasizing his words.
"I think we can work this out," Mistan said with a smile. "I'll have some food delivered."
"Is there no place to eat here?" Charles asked. Apparently, he was tired of the medical station and was looking for an excuse to leave.
"We have a canteen," the doctor said, frowning. "But I'm not sure you've recovered enough."
"I feel recovered enough," he replied confidently.
Mistan smiled again. "Okay, then you go ahead." She glanced briefly at Celia to coordinate their actions.
Celia nodded. "But remember to come back here when you're done eating. Otherwise we'll send security to find you," she said humorously. Then she became serious again. "If you feel uncomfortable, tell us right away."
"Thank you very much," Charles nodded and took two quick steps forward. Then he stopped and looked down at himself. He was still wearing a long white gown, medical clothing.
"We've put the new clothes on the bed next to you," Celia said with a smile. "Let's go, Ms. Mistan. Let Charles change first." They left the room and walked into the office next door.
Charles slowly picked up the clothes and looked at them carefully. These are all good things. Made of fabric he didn't recognize, but he could tell right away that they were of good quality. He didn't know what to say. After putting on the right clothes, he felt an invigorating feeling and had to fight back the tears that welled up in his eyes. Finally, he could feel like a real person again. When a person has nothing, only a little bit is enough.
A few minutes later, wearing new clothes, Charles walked out of the room full of excitement and eyes sparkling. It was evident from his look that he was very happy with his new clothes, for when he was a slave he could only wear rags.
"You dressed him up so elegantly," complimented Mistan. "I think this suit is the most suitable." She herself was also satisfied with Charles's new clothes.
“Where did these clothes come from?”
“I found them in a computer database and copied them,” Celia explained to her colleagues. "This is a costume that was worn around the millennium on Earth."
After Charles left the medical station, he walked through the corridors of the ship, not knowing where to go. He forgot to ask, but didn't want to look back now because he didn't want to risk being stuck in a medical station eating again. He looked around with his big eyes, getting confused looks from some of the passing crew. But no one spoke to him, and he tried to avoid prolonged eye contact with others. Finally, he realized that one of the doors, from which some people were coming out, must lead to an elevator system. He cautiously stepped into the elevator and looked around. The door closed behind him and he was trapped inside. Panic came over him again, and he had to control himself not to fall into it. There are no buttons or other control panels in the elevator. No hint on how the elevator works. He felt like a rat that had accidentally stepped into a trap. But it certainly wasn't a trap, because they could have left him in the medical bay. Then, he thought of a way. He knew the lighting at the medical station was controlled by voice commands. Maybe this elevator is the same.
"Restaurant," he said loudly and clearly, feeling a little ridiculous to himself.
But to his surprise, the elevator actually started running. What surprised him even more was that the elevator not only ran up and down, but also moved sideways. The whole process took less than a minute, and the elevator door quickly opened again. He walked out quickly before the door closed again in his face. The rest of the way is not difficult to find. Already he heard the clatter of cutlery and a general commotion.
When he walked into the room, about half the tables were occupied. But before sitting down, he looked around. The floors are wooden and so are the walls. There are paintings on the walls, more suitable for viewing than dining. Although there are no windows, the lighting almost looks natural. If you don't think about this as a spaceship, you can hardly remember that you are still in the sky of the universe. He sat down slowly and continued to look around. One painting in particular caught his attention. It was a painting of a flower, shimmering crimson, so realistic that one almost thought it was real. Although he was not familiar with this flower, he liked it very much. He never thought he would see a flower again, or any other bright color in nature. He didn't realize how much he missed this until now. He felt a strong desire to run on the grass and feel the touch of the grass between his legs. He knew that when he hugged Joan again, it would be the first time he did it.
So he sat there, lost in the beauty of the painting, waiting for someone to come and bring him food. He didn't know that everyone had to physically go to the restaurant's replicator to pick up their food. So he just sat there.
After a busy day, Tini walked through the corridor and headed towards the cafeteria. She had just gotten off work, and Pike would pick her up for dinner in three hours. However, she hadn't eaten all day and now she was so hungry that she needed to eat something. She really couldn't stand three hours of hunger.
She walked into the restaurant and the first thing she saw was Charles sitting alone at an empty table. He looked like he was waiting for something. Apparently, no one told him how to get food.
Tiny had planned to have a quick meal by herself and not want to talk to anyone else. However, when she saw Charles sitting there alone, she felt sympathy. She heard from Pike what happened to Charles at the Demon Flame, and the story he told made her heartache. Ordinary people simply cannot understand what he has experienced and endured, but Tiny understands it a little better. Now he sat here like an outsider, bewildered. So she walked towards him.
"Hello, Mr. Charles. My name is Tiny," she introduced herself. "can I help you?"
"I want to order some food," he said, apparently mistaking her for a waiter. "Do you have any recommendations?"
At first, Tiny was a little confused and didn't quite understand what he wanted. Then it dawned on her and she couldn't help but laugh. "There might be a misunderstanding. You need to get your own food," she explained. "There are food replicators on the wall over there. You can replicate any food that we're familiar with. Any food that's familiar to us," she clarified again, in case he wanted some food from his homeland.
"Got it," Charles nodded slowly, but Tiny wasn't sure he really got it.
"Would you like me to show you?" he asked her.
Tiny wasn't too interested, but she didn't want to turn him down. So she nodded and together they walked to the food replicator. “Just tell the device what you want, and the food you want will appear at the outlet,” she said, pointing to the outlet.
"Just talking to the machine here?" Charles asked with some confusion.
"Yes," answered the young Indian girl with grudging patience. She then recalled that Charles' planet was in the midst of a breakthrough in space travel when it was occupied. And that happened before Charles lived. The Demon Flames certainly never shared their technology. To Mo Yan, the technology of the Republic fleet should be unimaginably advanced.
"What do you recommend?" he asked again.
Tiny sighed. What if you were recommending a meal to a stranger, a Charles who had never tasted food from Earth? And Tiny doesn’t know what the food from his hometown tastes like. So, how does she answer his question? Then it occurred to her that this person might not have eaten real food in months or even years, maybe even ever. So whatever she recommended to him, it almost didn't matter. "You know, it comes down to personal taste," she said cautiously. "The food I eat is very balanced and low in calories. But you need to gain weight now. You need some nutritious food but not too much for your stomach." She thought for a moment. "How about trying sea bass?"
Charles shrugged. He had no idea.
"Okay. Pan-fried sea bass with boiled potatoes and salad," she ordered for Charles. "And dessert, a chocolate mousse." She winked at Charles.
Of course, Charles had no idea what she was talking about, but he seemed more interested in the replicator. The device began to hum and an energy field appeared at the output, forming the dish ordered. The aroma of freshly cooked fish hit his nostrils and he sniffed it with pleasure. "I haven't smelled this good in a long time," he said happily.
Tiny looked at him pityingly. She didn't blame him, just the smell of delicious food made him so happy.
"You should have a taste," she said at last, deciding that Charles had seen enough.
"Oh, yes. Of course." He quickly sat back at the table with the plate and started eating. In fact, he almost wolfed it down. It's like he's afraid someone will take the food away from him.
Slowly, Tiny followed him back to the table. She didn't take the food herself. For some reason, her appetite suddenly disappeared. Maybe it's because she keeps thinking about Charles' story. Watching Charles eat, she shook her head slightly. "Mr. Charles, you can eat slowly," she reminded.
Feeling a little embarrassed, Charles stopped, looked at her and swallowed. "Sorry," he then said, "this is a habit developed in the labor camps. You never know if the food will be taken away, and you don't know if there will be anything to eat next time."
Tiny just nodded, feeling a chill that made the hair on her neck stand up. "But here you are safe," she replied. As cliché as it sounded, she couldn't think of a better way to put it. She hoped that despite everything, her words sounded credible.
"Thank you," Charles smiled, but the smile was sad. "You're beautiful, Tiny. And you're kind, which is more important." He shook his head sadly. "I wish we met under better circumstances. I'm sorry. Really. But I had no choice." He stood up, even though he hadn't finished half of his food. "I'm sorry, please forgive me," he added, turning and leaving the room before Tiny could respond.
She failed to understand what Charles wanted to express, and just looked at his back in confusion. She felt that Charles' words made no sense. Or maybe his mind has been affected in captivity and what he says now is all nonsense? But so far, she hasn't heard of any of these cases. And she had no such impression of it. He seemed completely normal. Why should he apologize to her? He hasn't done anything. Does he have any intentions? No, that's completely illogical. He was weak and under constant surveillance, and there was nothing he could do without being noticed.
"Hi, Tiny," she heard a voice behind her and turned around. Adolf Ivan, a young official, sometimes worked together. Stand behind her. "You look depressed. Did you get bad news?"
Tiny looked at the door again thoughtfully. "I don't know," she replied softly. "Maybe."
