Chicken Soup For The Promethian Soul - Chapter #109

Free Enterprise  -  Chicken Soup For The Promethean Soul - #109


Amanda returned to her quarters with the full intent to take the rest of the evening off to pack, then chill. Her mind was so wrapped up in what she had to do that she nearly tripped over her prone consort laying just within the doors of her quarters.

Amanda simply put her hands on her hips, sighed and shook her head. She had warned Tyr repeatedly not to enter her quarters without telling her first. Why? Because she, a Promethean, from a heavy gravity world, preferred to relax in a high- grav environment when off duty.

Though Nietzscheans were powerful beings, unless they were properly acclimated to Promethean gravity which was approximately twice Earths normal gravity they were incapable of standing up in it. In other words they would all wind up kissing the deck like Tyr.

Prometheans had learned a healthy respect for gravity, that invisible but crushing force, from day one. That's why she'd warned Tyr so many times.

“But, like a child, he just had to test and see for himself.” she thought.

“Computer. Reduce gravity to Earth normal.” she ordered verbally, as she proceeded into her quarters. Leaving Tyr where he lay.

“Acknowledged.” the female voice replied, and complied.

Amanda hummed as she brought out a packing case and set it on her sofa. She went back into her bedroom and returned with an armful of folded clothing, which she began to separate on the sofa.

At this day and age one could literally travel without packing one stitch. All one had to do was replicate what one wanted to wear. However, Amanda Anasazi was old school. She liked her own clothing, not rearranged atoms and photons.

Amanda also had to consider the fact she was pregnant and would be putting a on little extra weight.

“Oh, hello!” she said brightly, as she watched Tyr roll up into a sitting position. He fluidly stood once he recognized that the gravity was back to normal.

“You are by far the most stubborn male creature I've ever met! I thought my Da was stubborn!” Amanda stated crossly, as she crossed her arms and glared at Tyr.
“What the hell was that? Some kind of security measure?” Tyr asked. He was merely being just as irritating in return.

“It is my own personal gravity well. I use it when I am alone and don't expect any visitors to drop in and fall across the threshold of my door, or to be hiding and waiting in my empty quarters. That's why I warned you NOT to come in here without first telling me.” Amanda said as she threw her hands up in frustration. “It may as well be a security devise because all who are not Prometheans will end up kissing the deck plates the way you did.” she continued, as she tossed a couple of clothing items into the travel case.

“Amanda, when are you leaving?” Tyr asked.

“As soon as we arrive at Deep Space Ten.” she replied as she looked at him, and frowned.

“We will be arriving two days early. . . . . According to Ensign Kesha, about 1800 hours tomorrow.” Tyr started

“That's no problem. I can arrange to take an earlier starliner out. . . .” she responded.

“I was hoping you would stay and attend the reception with us. You can always take the later flight out the way you had originally planned.” Tyr said.

Amanda's face blanched, as she swayed a bit. Tyr reached out and steadied her.

“Are you alright, Amanda?” he asked, face mirroring concern.

“Eh, it's a combination of things. The abrupt change of gravity, adjusting to the little one, and the fact that . . . . . Ugh, wait one. . . . “ she said as she dashed away to the fresher. Tyr heard the distinct sounds of gagging she “cast up accounts”.

Afterward, she made sure she'd cleaned herself up, and found Tyr waiting, just behind the door. Amanda squeezed past her consort and headed straight for the replicator.

“Ginger Beer, room temperature.” she ordered. Seconds later a glass of the brew materialized. She'd barely taken two sips when Tyr removed the glass from her hand.

“Tyr!” Amanda protested “That's the only thing that will settle my stomach!” she protested. “haven't you heard? You're not supposed to take food and drink away from pregnant women!” she continued.

“Carbonated water, high fructose corn syrup . . . . .” Tyr rattled the list of the brews ingredients off by heart. “. . . . . . . . Is that what you intend to feed our child?” he continued.

Amanda had forgotten that Nietzscheans were so anal when it came to food. Everything had to be fresh and organic, and replicated foods were verboten.

Nietzschean and Starfleet ships, which had Nietzschean crews had hydroponics bays to grow fresh fruits, vegetables, edible flowers, medicinal herbs and spices.

As a rule, Nietzscheans would only eat replicated foods if there was a dire emergency, and there was nothing else to eat. After which, Amanda supposed they would take a colonic. . . . . . .

“Girl. It's a girl.” Amanda replied. In response, Tyr blinked, because she had momentarily stunned and thrown him off.

“How do you know?” he asked.

Dr. Kori probably already sexed the baby and told her. Tyr thought, answering himself.

“When a woman is pregnant with a boy, the belly pushes straight out. With a girl, she lays across so the woman's hips spread. I'm starting to get a bit hippy, so. . . our baby is a little girl, Tyr.” Amanda replied. “It's supposed to be an Old Earth, Old Wives Tale, but I've personally found it to be true. After all this will be my Second Family and I've had both sons and daughters.” she continued and smiled.

“All the more reason for you not to drink this garbage. It is full of sugar and I don't want our . . . . daughter to suffer from childhood diabetes.” Tyr stated, as he tossed both glass and it's contents down the recycler. He took her by the arm and led her to the breakfast nook where he seated her in one of the chairs.

“I will be right back with something for you two.” Tyr said and then he was gone.

Amanda leaned her right elbow on the table and propped her head up in the cupped palm of her right hand. And waited.

She had to have fallen asleep because the smell of something good to eat woke her up. Amanda opened her eyes to see Tyr sitting directly across from her. A covered bowl sat in front of her, to the side sat a thermos bottle.

“Ginger tea.” Tyr replied to Amanda's questioning gaze.

“Okay Tyr, what do you want?” Amanda asked. She'd recognized the “ply the pregnant woman with food” ploy.

“I will need a little distraction during the reception.” Tyr replied, as he leaned in conspiratorially.

Amanda listened with increasing interest while she dusted off a bowl of home made chunky chicken soup, ate three slices of nut bread, and sipped ginger tea.

By the time Amanda finished eating, there was A Plan in place.




Note To Readers: The words: “To Cast Up Accounts” simply mean “To Vomit”. I've been reading waaaay too much Classics. . . . . . . .