"Missing food," Kazex says. "The supply count is off as of yesterday's inventory. No one claims to know anything."
I'm disappointed. This is the big problem? This is the dissonance I've been feeling in my normally perfectly run ship? "Are we in danger of starving before we reach our destination, Kazex?"
"No, sir."
I shrug. "Then let the men eat what they wish. You know I don't hold my crew to specific nutritional amounts a day, unlike some. You are free men, you are allowed to eat as much as you like."
He nods, still slightly bothered looking. "Thank you, sir. Of course."
"Anything else?"
"No."
I fight back my disappointment. Perhaps it is my guilty conscience, then. "Thank you for your thoughts, Kazex. If you notice anything else, please do not hesitate to bring it to my attention."
He nods and slips out of the gym, leaving me alone with the equipment. I put my hands on my hips and survey the room. The “off” feeling lingers, like a thin film dragged over my horns, just enough to be noticeable.
Food, Kazex says. As if I care if someone is snacking at night. Let them eat what they like. We have bigger problems. With that in mind, I climb onto the treadmill and set it to a punishing pace.
Working out doesn't quiet my head. My thoughts whirl in circles, going round and round about the Buoyant Star. The slaves. The Star. The slaves. Restless, I get off the treadmill and towel myself down, then head out. I should go to my rooms and clean off, but when I come out, I see two of the clones talking at the far end of the hall. They go quiet the moment they see me, and one walks away.
I tell myself it's fine. After all, I'm not a captain that demands constant salutes and groveling from his crew. But in the past, my relationship with my men has been a pleasant one. We're not close. I don't allow anyone to be close. But it was friendly. Companionable. As if we're all in this journey together. If the ship has a good haul, we all profit. Maybe that's what's off. The crew is acting distinctly chilly toward me.
Or maybe I'm just reading too much into things.
I decide to test this. I head into the mess hall. It's mostly empty, with only two of my men present. Dopekh—who used to be head of security and stepped down—is changing out the contents of one of the food dispensers. Another a'ani is eating at one of the tables, his data pad in front of him. They both look up at the sight of me and go still.
No one says anything.
"Is there a problem?" I snap, stalking toward the liquid refreshment center. I stab at one of the buttons. A drinking vessel is deposited and ice-cold liquid pours into it.
"Of course not, Lord Straik." The a'ani at the table—Zaemen—scoops up his data pad and jumps to his feet. "I was just finishing up." He dumps his tray and snags the rest of his protein bar, shoving it into his mouth and hastily exiting out before I can say more. He gives me a respectful nod as he passes, but I can't help but feel…diseased.
As if I'm the biggest problem on the ship.
Except…it's my keffing ship. I'm the one in charge.
I pick up the flute of cold juice and drink it, watching as Dopekh returns to refilling the machines. He doesn't race away like Zaemen does, but there's something slightly off about his demeanor. He seems…nervous. Uneasy.
It just fuels my bad mood. I finish the juice and shove the glass into the disposal slot. "What is it?" I demand. "Something is bothering you."
"Me?" Dopekh averts his gaze and shakes his head, shoving the plas-bag into the refill slot. "I'm fine, Lord Straik. Truly."
"Everyone on this ship is acting strange." I watch as he takes great care with the bag of noodles, and I wonder if it really is related to food. It seems odd, but all of this seems keffing odd. "Are you worried about food, Dopekh? Do the men feel as if they must ration our supplies? I've always encouraged you to eat as you like. We have the funds to cover extra meals, after all, and I won't let my crew go hungry."
Dopekh stares down at the refill bag in his hands. "No one is worried about going hungry, Lord Straik."
"You're certain?"
He nods.
"Because I want my crew to feel comfortable," I continue. "It's important to me that my crew be satisfied." I know some lords like to keep their a'ani on a specific nutritional diet so they won't gain weight, but they also like to keep them as slaves. I'm a firm believer in personal autonomy and that the a'ani are people, just like anyone else. A happy crew is a loyal crew. I've always thought of mine as happy and loyal…but now I'm not so sure. "Are you…satisfied, Dopekh?"