“I asked it for fried fish. With french fries. And rolls and butter. One of the wall pods produced all of it. Probably synthesized from the organics we and everyone else on Earth provided.”

Zimmer was disapproving. “Not a very healthy diet on which to commence an involuntary interstellar journey, my friend.”

“What difference does it make?” Reed had slid into melancholy. “We’re all gonna die on this ship, anyway. Or on some alien world if that’s where they intend taking us. We’re never, none of us, going to see Earth again.” Hands folded, he sat on the edge of a pod chair and stared at the space between his feet. “I’m never gonna see my cousin’s girl play soccer again.”

Pavesi looked surprised. “We’re not supposed to have any close relatives.”

He looked over at her. “Distant niece doesn’t qualify. Didn’t show up when I applied so I figured I was in the clear. Doesn’t matter now. What, you gonna notify the Pentagon?”

She didn’t back down from his sarcasm. “I was just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

He returned his gaze to the floor. “I know. I know you didn’t.”

It was quiet in the room for a moment, until Katou-Zimmer, her attention on Dev, spoke up anew. “You just ordered food and it was provided?” Rising from where she was sitting, she walked over to where several pods hung on the far wall. “Which one?” Dev pointed out the appropriate pod.

“Green salad.” She was careful to enunciate clearly as she addressed the pod. “Romaine lettuce, tomatoes, kale, sprouts, sliced cucumber. Oil and vinegar dressing.”

A brief pause and then the black interior of the pod disappeared. It was replaced with an intense yellow glow that slowly shaded to green. When this faded away, a bowl of some pale blue material sat in the opening. Even at a distance, greens and red tomatoes could be seen clearly.

Taking the bowl, Katou-Zimmer hesitated, then addressed the pod again. “Utensils? A fork?”

“Different pod.” Dev pointed. Moving to stand in front of the indicated device, Katou-Zimmer repeated her request. The fork that materialized in the opening was fashioned of an unknown material that seemed to be a bizarre meld of plastic and wood. Picking it up, the biologist sampled the salad.

“This is beyond technology,” she murmured, crunching away. “I can go as far as understanding how an alien synthesizing structure might analyze our digestive system and supply nutrients accordingly, but—salad dressing? A fork? Without ever having been presented with an example to work from?”