Free Mission Mistletoe by Jessica Payseur Page A

a’dlen Jhex. “Are the food printers still malfunctioning?”
    “No,” said Archer, the word a bit of a snap. He cleared his throat. “All fixed.”
    “Then you are not here to tell me that.” A’dlen Jhex glanced at him as they reached the lift, dark eyes examining Archer with an intensity that made him look away. He couldn’t afford to offend an ambassador on such an important assignment. A new colony depended upon it.
    “No,” said Archer, waiting for a’dlen Jhex to select a desired level. The door closed on them. Immediately Archer wondered whether it had been a good idea to get in a lift alone with the ambassador, but the ride was short. “How do you feel about more bad news?”
    “That depends on the bad news.”
    A’dlen Jhex flashed a smile. Archer strode into the corridor.
    “My engineers tell me we have to full stop,” he said. He was not sure how much to tell the ambassador or even what he wanted to know. “Something with the fuel.”
    “It’s your new brand of biofuel, correct? I read a piece about that. I understand it’s debatable whether it’s more efficient, as it requires more cleaning and maintenance of your ship.”
    “It’s not more efficient if I have to stop mid voyage, now is it?” said Archer before he could stop himself. He shook his head. “Sorry. I want to assure you our vessels do not break down or have issues as regularly as this. This is an anomaly.”
    “I understand. You made that clear about the food printers as well.”
    Archer side-eyed the ambassador, unable to tell whether he was making a joke or a criticism. Perhaps it was only a statement. A’dlen Jhex led them through a door to a small room that had been set up for artwork. There were several rooms along this corridor for pastimes, the hope being that crewmembers would take the opportunity to reduce stress on their own without the need for drugs. Still, many people spurned these outlets and went with the prescription anyway, Archer among them. He just did not have time to paint out his feelings.
    “I wouldn’t be stopping us if it wasn’t completely necessary,” said Archer, watching as a’dlen Jhex’s long, delicate fingers tapped the code for clay into the art printer. He swallowed, both very much wanting to watch the ambassador sculpt and knowing he should not let himself linger to see it. He would get too many ideas.
    “Will this be delaying our course?” asked a’dlen Jhex as he waited for his clay.
    He did not seem concerned. Archer suddenly wanted very much to shout at him. A lot depended on what was reported back to the Nler’sh’eh. If a’dlen Jhex did not make up for the unanticipated events with his statement, Archer would be out a job. He didn’t particularly care to lose one more thing right now.
    “Yes,” he said, the word short. When the ambassador looked up at him, he found it was easier to glare than anything. “This could play out one of two ways. We push our entire schedule back, or we cut out the visit to one or two destinations.”
    “I’m afraid I am due back on Nleri’xh by a particular date,” said a’dlen Jhex, and Archer’s entire body tensed. No, he was not making this decision.
    “I don’t like either option,” he said, hoping it was obvious he wanted the ambassador to decide. These things were always tricky. Ilin a’dlen Jhex had learned a common Terran language to communicate, though it was unclear just how well he knew it. Archer wished he would allow a translation device like most other aliens, but he was stubborn. The annoying bit about it was that Archer found his prideful insistence attractive.
    “You must understand I’m here to observe how your people adapt to situations,” said a’dlen Jhex. He was pulling the lump of clay out of the printer, testing it with his fingers. He brought it to a table and sat, tilting his eyes up to look at Archer.
    “You’re also here to see how we can work together,” said Archer before thinking better of it.