Brokering Trust - Gay Edition

David realized that he was being examined again, turning to meet his guide's inquisitive gaze. He had to remember that while he was the first human to see a Broker in the flesh, it was very unlikely that this Broker would have ever seen a human with his own eyes. There was a big difference between watching videos and images from archive footage or the cameras of his exoskeleton, and standing in the same room as one.

"I did not expect so much fur," the alien mused. The synthetic voice was coming from a speaker on the collar itself now that David wasn't wearing his helmet. "My research material often described you as being furless. We have few mammals on this planet."

"It's hair, not fur," he protested. "Maybe a little beard stubble, too. Haven't shaved in a couple of days..."

The Broker chuckled suddenly, a series of pastel ripples spreading across his skin, almost like light bleeding through slats in a window. It was an odd clicking sound, almost like chattering teeth, and his full lips curled into a surprisingly human smile for the first time.

"Apologies," he said, quickly composing himself. "It is just that..."

"What?" David demanded, his brow furrowing.

"The pale tone of your skin makes you look...amusingly happy."

"Oh, so I'm just wearing a great big Broker smile?" he grumbled. "Great."

"My intention was not to anger you," the alien added swiftly, noticing that David's cheeks were warming. The flush of embarrassment must bear an outward resemblance to the way that his people's chromatophores darkened when they were mad.

"I'm not angry - that's just blood rising to the surface of my skin," David explained, failing to elaborate further.

"If you say so."

"Okay, changing the subject!" he said with a clap of his hands. "The last thing I ate was a ham sandwich from the Courser's mess that tasted like freezer burn, and that was before we jumped. I don't know how often Brokers eat, but we mammals need calories to maintain our body temperature. What's for dinner?"

"Yes, I read that humans need to eat at roughly five-hour intervals," the Broker replied. "Rest cycles are eight hours on average."

"We also need to drink regularly," he added. "Desalinated water, preferably. Unless you want this partnership to become very interesting very quickly."

"Our engineers took that into consideration," the alien replied. "In the restroom, you will find a fountain that dispenses fresh water."

"Well, it's nice to see that I'm being afforded the same considerations as a hamster," David grumbled. "Perhaps we could install a giant wheel for me to run around in while we're at it."

"For exercise?" the Broker asked, but David waved his hand dismissively.

"Let's focus on the immediate issue of food. I didn't bring any supplies with me from the ship - thank merciful God - so I'm guessing that means you're going to be providing me with meals. I must admit, I'm curious to find out what Broker cuisine tastes like. You've taken into account my nutritional requirements, I take it?"

"We have synthesized food supplements based on proteins and nutrients that-"

"No, no," David said, interrupting him with a shake of his head. "I'm not going to spend weeks eating nutrient paste and food cubes like I've ended up on some Jovian penal colony, as much as the diet would complement the accommodations."

"You will refuse the food that we have prepared for you?" the alien asked, his expression darkening along with his skin. "That will pose problems. We have no means of acquiring human food for you. It is not a product that we import to this system."

"You misunderstand," David continued. "I don't want synthesized proteins - I want to see what you eat. The suit has a food scanner, so I can check if it contains any poisonous compounds or anything that I can't digest. It should be perfectly safe."

"But-"

"Listen, I'm only here because I was invited, and because you need my help. I'm not asking you to go out of your way or to prepare me any special meals. I only want to eat what you eat - within reason. Trust me when I say that I'm not going to function well if all of my meals consist of the same fish-flavored tofu. We humans need variety and stimulation to remain mentally healthy. I may need some supplements depending on the nutritional content of your diet, but I'm willing to bet that I can eat most of what you eat."

"Very well," the Broker conceded, the frill on his mantle fluttering. "You will have to afford me some time to make the necessary arrangements. Wait here, and I shall return shortly."

He turned and left through the shimmering field, his coloration noticeably lightening as though he was relieved to be back in the water - or perhaps away from his charge. David turned his attention back to his equipment, opening his rucksack and starting to pack away the spare clothes that he had brought with him. He was still amused by the gym lockers, but they served their purpose. When he was done, he opened the cubicle to check out the bathroom, seeing a shower with a fold-down toilet similar to the ones he had seen on smaller spacecraft. To the right was a tiny sink with a faucet that presumably dispensed clean water. Shearer had given him a military canteen along with the suit that could be used with a straw that extended from his helmet, allowing him to drink even in space or other hazardous environments. It should work underwater, too.

He filled it up and holstered it on his hip, then moved over to the bed, sitting down on it experimentally. There hadn't been any cushions in the Broker's apartment - they seemed to favor netting instead, perhaps because stuffing would just get waterlogged. He couldn't even begin to imagine all of the everyday things he took for granted that just wouldn't work underwater. His stomach growling, he sat down at the desk and started messing with his computer to distract himself.

The first thing he did was scan the local area for radio signals, finding a pretty powerful field inside the apartment. Radio waves didn't travel very far in water, but they should propagate rather well in the enclosed space with a few repeaters. Perhaps it was some kind of ad-hoc network for the city's intranet. The aliens must be well-connected with their reliance on technology and their propensity for solitude. Over longer distances, perhaps they used tight-beam lasers similar to those used on spacecraft. He couldn't connect to it, as his device had no protocols that were compatible, but he might be able to do something about that later.

CHAPTER 4: BREAKING BREAD

Before long, he saw the distorted shape of the Broker returning through the translucent walls of his habitat, and he made his way through the force field. Wrapped in his tentacles was some kind of foil bag about the size and shape of a baguette.

He placed it on the end of the table and began to unwrap it, using all four arms in tandem. Inside were several sealed plastic containers, almost like takeout boxes, and he began to separate them into two piles with the same finesse. It was mesmerizing just watching him handle objects, his flexible tentacles moving with such fluidity.

David reached over to pick one of them up, waiting for permission before trying to pop open the lid. He struggled to find purchase, as it was completely flush, and there wasn't even room for him to get his fingernails into the seam. Frustrated, he passed it back to his guide. The alien placed the flat of his hand on the lid, then simply popped it off, using his suckers to grip it. It wasn't designed to be levered open with a finger - it was made for Brokers. Fascinating. Even Borealans and Valbarans had hands with fingers and thumbs, and their tools were familiar enough to be intuitive, but not so for the Brokers.

He passed the open container back to David, who glanced inside it. He had expected a strong seafood smell, but there was nothing but a sealed bag. It was transparent, and inside was something about the size of a sub sandwich wrapped in what looked like seaweed. When he picked it up, he realized that the bag was filled with fluid. Of course - it would usually be eaten underwater, and perhaps their lunch would float away like a birthday balloon if it wasn't weighed down with something.

"How do you cook this stuff underwater?" he asked, weighing the sloshing bag suspiciously.

"We have many means of cooking our food," his host replied, opening one of his containers. "Some food is eaten raw."

"Sashimi," David added with a nod. "Sliced raw fish is considered a delicacy in some Earth cultures. Oysters, too."

"We sterilize some food with microwave radiation. Others, we boil in a sealed vessel that insulates it from the surrounding water, though that is a rather archaic method. This particular dish was prepared by sealing it inside that pouch along with its seasonings, then cooking it for a comparatively long period of time at a low temperature."

"You're telling me that this is sous vide?" David chuckled. "We use that method on Earth, usually for meat. I guess it makes sense - that would be a practical way to prepare something underwater. The low temperature would prevent the water outside the container from scalding the cook."

"We also do some cooking on land," the alien explained, watching as his ward searched for a way to open the bag. "Food prepared at the surface is considered a delicacy. Sun-baked dishes and those charred over an open flame are traditionally reserved for those of high status and cannot be transported below water easily."

"So, your idea of a fancy restaurant is having a barbecue on the beach?" David asked. "Does that mean that eating above the water is a special occasion for you?"

"We do have some restaurants with rooms similar to this one," he explained, gesturing to the habitat. "Albeit, the customer is usually partially submerged, while the dining table is above water."

David chuckled to himself, imagining a group of Brokers sitting around a table in a moon pool, passing around grilled meat.

"Well, you're welcome to eat with me if you want the authentic restaurant experience," David added as he succeeded in splitting the bag. He cursed, moving it over the container, watching it fill with fish-scented fluid. When he picked out the food, he was surprised to find that it didn't feel waterlogged, and it was still tangibly warm. As he began to peel away the dark green, seaweed-like wrap, the Broker clicked his beak in disapproval.

"It is to be eaten with the water weed," he chided.

"I guess this protects whatever's inside if you open it underwater?"

"Indeed," he replied.

David took a moment to scan the food with the sensor that was built into his wrist device, the computer checking that there were no dangerous compounds, and it came back clean. With a shrug, he dove in, holding it like a sandwich as he took a large bite. The wrap had a nice crunch to it, along with a briny umami flavor. His teeth sank into something soft and fleshy, the distinct taste of lobster or maybe king crab filling his mouth. When he looked down, he saw that the wrap was filled with pale meat - likely from some form of crustacean. It was the size of a steak, so maybe it had come from something akin to the sheep-sized lobster that he had seen in the reef.

"Holy shit, that's actually really good," he exclaimed as he took another eager bite. "It's a little salty for my taste, but you could serve this in a seafood restaurant, and nobody would bat an eye. And you were gonna have me eating nutrient paste," he added as he chewed. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"I have never seen a human...eat," the Broker muttered, his coloration hard to read. "You have so many teeth."

"Thirty-two, to be exact," David replied. "Well, I have thirty because I had two wisdom teeth removed. How do you eat?" he asked as he turned in his seat to watch him. "Come on - let's have it."

"You wish to watch me eat?"

"Don't throw stones in glass habitats," he said, the Broker merely flashing confused patterns.

The skeptical alien popped open one of the containers - perhaps he had simply doubled the order - and lifted out the bag, holding it with the suckers on one tentacle. With another, he sliced it open, David recoiling in alarm. Like a cat unsheathing its claws, a black hook rose from within one of the suckers on his hand, cutting through the plastic like a blade. The Broker cocked his head at the grimacing human when he noticed his reaction, lifting the hand in question and extending all of his claws, transforming the gentle appendage into a wicked medieval weapon.

"Oh, that is just wrong," David hissed as he shrank back into his chair. "Why didn't you tell me you were packing fish hooks?"

"They are retractable," he explained, the pattern of pastel colors that swept across his skin suggesting that he was amused. "They are for gripping prey and other slippery objects."

"You could flay someone alive with those things," David said, keeping his eyes on them warily. "Remind me to be more polite in the future."

The alien wrapped the meat in two of his hands, bringing it to his mouth, David watching curiously as his full lips parted to reveal a beak. It was as black as onyx and shiny like lacquer, with upper and lower halves that overlapped to form scything blades. He cut off a mouthful of the lobster meat like someone punching a hole in a piece of paper, giving David a vivid example of how his species dealt with hard-shelled crabs. There was an alarming amount of power in those jaws. At least that explained why he had such prominent lips to begin with - they must protect his beak in the same way that a human's protected their teeth.

"Now that I've been suitably horrified, we can continue our meal," he said cheerfully as he took another bite. "What do we have in the way of sides?"

"Traditionally, we should have started with the raw meat dish," the Broker explained. "That container there," he added, gesturing with one of his free tentacles.

David set the wrap down on the table, using the lid of its container as an impromptu plate, fumbling with another of the tupperwares. His cheeks warming again, he passed it to the Broker, who made an impressive show of multitasking as he opened it for him. This one was filled with tightly-packed slices of raw fish, the pink, salmon-like meat so tender that it was almost translucent.

"My kingdom for a lemon slice," David said, popping one of them into his mouth. "Man, that just melts on the tongue. You know, I get the feeling I'm going to enjoy my stay here a lot more than I thought. Sushi and lobster bechamel on tap suits me just fine."

"Many of these words are not in my translator's library," the alien complained, but David waved his hand dismissively.

"Let's just say that I'm as happy as a clam right now."

"You are doing this on purpose," the Broker grumbled, taking another bite of his meat as he glared at his companion. Remembering his vicious beak, David straightened in his chair a little, turning his attention back to his meal.

"It's nice to share dinner with you," he said, nodding to the food containers that were strewn across the left side of the table. "Humans like to bond over food - it's just something that we do."

"We are not so...social," the Broker added.

"Aren't we having fun?" David asked, leaning back in his seat as he lowered another piece of raw fish into his mouth. "Speaking of which - I think I've come up with a suitable name for you."

"Must you?" the Broker groaned with a disapproving click of his beak.

"I promise it's not demeaning," he added quickly. "Especially now that I've discovered how, uh...armed you are. Selkie. Has a nice ring to it, right?"

"What does it mean?" the alien asked suspiciously, his coloration darkening. "There is no such term in my database."

"It's a sea creature from ancient Earth mythology," David explained, popping something that looked like a shelled shrimp into his mouth. "Celtic, to be precise. They wore animal pelts to disguise themselves, kind of like you and your exosuit."

"Very well," he sighed. "You may call me Selkie if it puts the discussion to rest."

"And you can call me David," he replied. "I've noticed that you guys have a tendency to refer to me by my full name and title. Although, Doctor is also good," he added with a shrug. "I didn't get that PhD just because I think the certificate looks nice on my wall."

"Do you always talk so incessantly when you eat?" Selkie asked.

"I'm just enjoying the cultural exchange," he replied, popping another juicy shrimp into his mouth. "I wanted to ask you something," he continued, his tone becoming more serious. "I get the impression that you and the Administrator don't exactly see eye to eye, and it hasn't escaped my attention that this whole scenario seems to have been set up as an elaborate means to punish you. I know that you don't want me here in your apartment, nor do you want me getting my grubby mammalian fingers anywhere near your project. So, what happened? What did you do that's made him so vindictive?"

Selkie took another bite of his lobster meat, crunching the seaweed wrap in his beak as he pondered the question, his coloration turning a blotchy maroon.

"I suppose that you will find out soon enough," he began, the skin on his mantle wrinkling almost like a frown. "My team was working on classified military technology under the supervision of the Administrator - a software upgrade for his drone fleet. It was to be a secret, and something that would help propel his company to the forefront of the industry, giving him an advantage over his rivals. When the situation was no longer under control and I could not resolve the problem, he was forced to go to the Board for help. In doing so, he exposed the project and drew their ire in the process."

"I see," David mused, sampling another piece of fish. "That must have put a damper on his plans. He blames you, and now he's making it his mission to make your life hell. Sorry that I have to be a part of it," he added.

"You did not know," Selkie sighed, though David didn't get the impression that he was any happier about his new living situation. "He has no legal grounds to demand restitution, as I did nothing that was beyond the scope of my contract, but he still seeks a means to punish me for my perceived transgression."

"Kind of like your boss taking away your corner office and making you stare at a brick wall," David said with a nod. "Well, hopefully we can get the situation resolved quickly, and you can put it behind you."

"I very much doubt that," he replied, looking the human up and down disdainfully. Clearly, he had no confidence in his new colleague's abilities. David was curious about the drone software and what exactly had gone so awry, but he would be getting a full briefing tomorrow, according to the Administrator.

"Why not just quit your job if you're being mistreated?" David asked, polishing off the last of the sashimi. "Man, this stuff is good."

"As I said, I am under contract," Selkie replied as though that was an explanation unto itself.

"What else do we have here?" David continued, sifting through the remaining boxes. "Anything for dessert?"

"You might enjoy these seagrass seedlings," the Broker said, cracking open another container. This one was filled with a small sachet of green, vaguely almond-shaped fruits.

David opened the little bag and plucked one out, finding that it was squishy like a grape or a prune. When he bit into it gingerly, he discovered that it was surprisingly salty, with a sweet aftertaste that reminded him of salted caramel. Each one had a nut inside that must be the seed, which was like the hard pit of a peach. Perhaps the species sent these fruits floating into the ocean to be carried away by the current or eaten by animals.