The Chronicles of Monster Planet - стр. 8
Despite expectations, our lunch, dinner, or whatever meal of the day it was, included meat. We had chicken. Just a small portion, accompanied with some sort of boiled grass. In addition, we had porridge and tea, which, judging by the particles floating in it, had been made from the same grass as the side dish. Well, Terra Nova is anything but a gourmet paradise, I thought, picking at the gelatinous puree with a spoon. Anna came over with her tray and took a seat opposite me.
“Do you find our food unusual?”
“Compared to the nutrient solution pumped into my body for the last two hundred years, it's just ambrosia,” I replied and recklessly put a spoonful of the puree in my mouth.
The puree was expectedly tasteless, but it made the girl smile.
“What was the food like back on Earth?” she asked. “I heard there was some sort of a delicacy, oyster. Obviously, I've never tried it.”
“Well, it’s something like a sea worm in a shell. I've never liked oysters, they are highly overrated. I'd rather have a well-done steak with a glass of chilled wine.”
“A worm? Yuck!” Anna looked at me incredulously. “You are kidding, aren't you?”
“No. Why is he following us?” I pointed my spoon at Werner, who stayed at the entrance.
“Trevor probably asked him to keep an eye on you to prevent accidents. You're new to the base and MP.”
“What's MP?”
“You are definitely new here. It's what we call this world. Monster Planet, MP for short.”
“And the locals, what are they like?” I asked, sipping the unexpectedly good tea.
The girl closed up at once.
“Is something wrong?” I was already sorry that I had asked the question. Our relationship with this lovely girl was off to a good start and might blossom into something bigger. Although two hundred years in a capsule could have a negative effect on my body, I thought uneasily.
“They are aggressive, bad,” Anna replied. “They kill us. They must be exterminated.”
“Wow, such thirst for blood!” I pointedly raised my eyebrow in surprise.
“When your friends are murdered, the blood of your enemies seems – how did you put it? – like ambrosia.”
I chose not to say anything. Perhaps she had the right to say that, who knows.
“Are they really intelligent?” I asked instead.
“Yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are organized, social, but at the same time incapable of creative thinking. Many of their actions are instinctive, genetically coded, I believe. Like ants. I can't provide more details, I'm not a biologist.”
“But have you seen them?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” a grimace of disgust distorted Anna's pretty features. “I hope never to see them again.”
It was Finn who distracted me from the conversation.
“Max, get up. We have to get together and discuss the situation.”
“Anna, excuse me. It was very nice talking to you,” I said to the girl, standing up, “I hope we'll continue next time?”
“Absolutely,” the girl smiled, leaving her seat.
“You, French folks, just never change,” Finn commented, watching her go. “But we do have a lot to discuss, so let's meet at my place.”
A quarter of an hour later, after a short stay in my own compartment, I arrived at the commander's room. I came second after Boris and perched on the bed. Finn took a stool, while Leonov was sitting on a chair next to him. They looked like conspirators. The Russian astronaut was saying something, but stopped as I entered.