Feast – A Thanksgiving story from #NotYourSpace

“FEAST”

A Thanksgiving story from the Not Your Space universe, about the Gorvalts, by Matthew Ritter

 

All Gorvalt speech (Specifically the dialect of the hub-ward spiral sect popular among the military elite) has been translated for the convenience of the reader. Efforts were made to normalize the speech but a one to one translation is impossible even between language of the same race, let alone languages of one species to another. 

 

“How does it taste?”

“Much like the one race, the small goo like beings with the large eyes we hunted to extinction. What was their name?”

“We consumed them too quickly to ever give them a proper name.”

“Mmm… if they had not wished to be eaten they should have been less delicious.”

“But they have a stringy after taste, it is not as satisfying. Try.”

“mmm… mmm… you’re right. A pale imitation of that delicious memory. It is probably because of the strange hairs that grow all over them. It taints the meat.”

“You should see some of the other animals from their home planet. Covered in hair.”

“Disgusting.”

“Revolting.”

“The meat though, tasty.”

“But not spectacular.”

“Not spectacular, no. What is next?”

“This dish.”

“Oh… interesting. Chewy. Very chewy. And… oh, crunchy.”

“That bit is their shell. A thin membrane that protects nothing.”

“But it adds an interesting spice to the dish.”

“Wait till you try the eyes.”

“OH! Oh, what flavor. Ah… it burst and juice shot across the room.”

“There is one issue…”

“Hmm?”

“Eating enough of this meat causes toxicity. Even fatal poisoning.”

“It is worth it!”

“…is it?”

“What else do we have?”

“Here, it has to be prepared just right but i think…”

“AH! So brittle. Like bones.”

“Yes, their skin is like this.”

“It is very satisfying in texture but…”

“They also breed quite fast, we could have them as snacks for years without worry of eradicating them.”

“no. this is terrible. The aftertaste. Like dirt, or plant matter. send a note to the diplomatic corps, maybe we can trade with them. For now.”

“If you insist.”

“and also leave some for my chef, perhaps he can make it more palatable? Mm, like this bit. The yellow bit. Actually quite tasty.”

“That is the sensor stalk. Full of nutrition.”

“And flavor!”

“Of note, they can be forced to breed specific sub species. They do it all the time for their own needs. Perhaps we can set up breeding programs to make them more delicious.”

“Ah. Mmmm… by tooth they may be worth eating in the long view of things…”

“You have not tried this last dish.”

“It doesn’t look like much. Bland colorless flesh. And it tastes like… mmmmr…”

“Yes?”

“It is not as flavorful as most of the others. However, there is a certain quality to it. I think i quite like it.”

“It’s the strange composition of their minds. It actually goes through the entire body. A neural network from head to toe.”

“Truly brain food!”

“So, Commander. We need a decision.”

“Oh yes. Mmm, let me wipe my mouth. Who to invade… who to invade…”

“I like this final one myself, the Mormood as they refer to themselves.”

“The humans were high on my list, but the final decision is mine and mine alone. The Vuline shall be our next conquest. Poisonous or not, i need more of that supple purple flavor.”

“Very well. I shall inform the armada.”

“mmm…yes. Leave the samples. I am still, perusing.”

“Of course.”

“Once this campaign is over, our troops shall dine well.”

“May the empire feast for a thousand more cullings.”

“Yes… or at least one more. Mmm, we’ll have to consider these Zatchi next. Have you tried the Vuline tail flesh and Zatchi thorax meat together? Divine.”

“Perhaps the announcement to the fleet can wait…”

“Yes, try this.”

“Ah, are you done with that over there…?”

“No, go right ahead. Plenty for all. At least, there will be soon.”

“The stores ARE low, if we don’t win the campaign quickly…”

“No no, perish the thought. Perish it. We have never gone hungry under my command, and we never will.”

“To the next meal.”

“To the next meal.”

Happy Thanksgiving  :O

Bob

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