After only five minutes on the tour, Trak made his decision to fire missiles down a Stuck Station corridor.
And not because of malice or boredom.
The station’s Aye had just flitted him to the first stop on his trip – a place the Tour Guide called Cafeteria 407.
It was a vast, uninhabited dining area filled with gleaming white and blue tables, each table covered with the same five items in different containers.
And one those items was a bowl of Mek Lubricant.
Trak often had to remind Daniel that even though it looked as if Meks ate lubricant the clear viscous fluid wasn't a meal; it was a part of a maintenance routine.
Plus, it was delicious.
As Trak neared the closest table to examine the fluid, one of his tactical subroutines warned him once again that the room, indeed the whole facility, could be a trap.
His scans revealed nothing dangerous.
After five minutes of analysis, (a long time for Trak’s efficient datacore) he decided the clear viscous fluid wasn’t dangerous either.
You think everything’s a trap, Rachel-7 had said.
Sometimes I’m right, he thought. That would have been a better response.
Trak’s witty retort optimizer was always looking for ways to improve his banter.
He took the bowl of lubricant from the table. Another bowl grew in its place, just like most places with a food forge.
Then Trak looked for a place to sit.
He didn’t need to sit, but it was a habit he’d picked up living among humans.
His appearance scared them, especially his height. The more time he spent sitting was more time spent not freaking them out.
Daniel didn’t care, but Daniel was the exception.
Sitting had become Trak’s routine. Even in an empty room.