“Right,” Xander said. “I have stuff to see to. I’ll report back later.”
“Speaking of our guests or masters or our Tin Man greatgreatgreatgreatgranchildren,” Dave said, “anyone seen them this morning?”
“We’d better find them,” Andie Mae said. “If Xander gets his way he’s gonna want them, and I still want to talk to that Boss creature. And I emphatically don’t want them wandering around screwing with everyone else’s minds. Or listening to some of the drivel that they might get eagerly told by some of the fringe elements out there. I wouldn’t want them to get the wrong end of the stick about us. They might decide that we’re too bizarre by half to bother saving, after all — collateral damage, send the rock into the sun, be done with us…”
“You really think they’ll return us?”
“They’d better,” growled Andie Mae. “I still have to have words with Al, and he’s back on the home rock. Come on, Dave, let’s go android hunting.”
They got as far as the hotel lobby and had started down the corridor that wound between the two hotel ballrooms, the larger one which they had used for Opening Ceremonies and the smaller one across the hallway where the gamers had been ensconced, when Luke Barnes, the erstwhile Night Manager but now by default the Duty Manager for the entire resort, caught up with them. He looked like hell; clearly he’d had less sleep than Andie Mae, his eyes were bloodshot, and his blond hair was standing on end in a way that made him look endearingly like the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz movie. He had two companions in tow, a bearded and bespectacled academic — looking type and an older man wearing a peaked hat and a jacket with gold braid on the sleeves.
“I need to talk to you,” Luke said. “About several things, really. This is Dr Cohen, and this is Captain William Lindstrom, he’s senior flight crew for Enterprise Airlines…”
Dave shook his head in disbelief. “Enterprise. Airlines. Who’d have thunk it.”
“We’re quite conveniently situated for one of the smaller regional airports,” Luke said, a shade defensively, “and the crews — ”
“Never mind, don’t take it personally,” Andie Mae said. “What’s the problem?”
Luke actually stared at her open — mouthed for a moment. The man introduced as Dr Cohen stepped forward.
“If I may,” he said. “You do realize, of course, that there is a reasonably sizeable contingent of guests at this hotel right now who are not part of your particular group, and who are very much in a bad way. I mean, some of them had plans for this morning — which were understandably made rather untenable when they realized that there was little out there but outer space. I’ve had to supply sedatives to one older woman who almost had a stroke when she made the mistake of asking one of your more ordinary — looking attendees in the corridor what was going on and was gleefully informed that she was on a journey to the Moon, quite literally, and most emphatically without her permission and against her will….”
“I’ve moved some of these people into a dedicated set of rooms on a single upper floor in Tower 3,” Luke said. “They will have to be kept calm and probably sequestered…”
“And yeah, quite understandably, probably sedated,” Dave murmured. “And there will be some of our gang who will have trouble with this too and may end up in your ward. I’m really sorry about this, Doctor, it was not of our doing.”
“I realize that,” the doctor said, “but you’re kind of in the hot seat, I am told, and you’re the ones at whom the finger points right now. For the time being I have a certain amount of the relevant medications which may become necessary — but I have no idea how long this whole thing is supposed to go on for, or if it has a planned conclusion of any sort that would make me feel a little more sanguine about our surviving the experience. And when I run out of supplies…”
“And speaking of those,” Luke said, “we were due a delivery of fresh foodstuffs for the kitchens for both restaurants this morning — and that, fairly obviously, isn’t going to happen now, is it? We have a relatively limited food supply, given the number of people at the hotel right now, and I am not at all sure about our drinking water…”
“May I be of any assistance?”
“Actually,” Andie Mae said sweetly, turning to Boss, who had just stepped up to the group, “we were hoping to run into you…”
“We have a problem,” Luke blurted, staring at the silver man. “Actually, more than one problem.”
“We’re people,” Dave said. “We need to eat.”
“And I need access to medical supplies,” Dr. Cohen said.
“We can deal with these things. Come with me.”
They all obediently followed him to where a dark rectangular object stood against the far wall of the hallway. It had a square opening at about waist level, and a mysterious light source providing a warm orange — tinged glow to the interior, highlighting a silvery platform in the middle of it which looked rather like a microwave turntable. An array of blinking lights twinkled beside this opening. Dave stepped forward and examined the thing thoroughly, and then turned back to Boss, frowning.
“Okay,” he said, “I’ll bite. What is it?”
“It is…” Boss began.
“Hi!” Xander said brightly, stepping around the airline captain’s side and pushing forward to stand beside Dave. “I’ve got something to tell you, but first — er — what…?”
“It is something that I have seen referred to in the context of your own history and fiction as a replicator,” Boss said.
“A replicator,” Dave echoed.
“Yes.”
“As in, something that replicates something.”
“Yes.”
“You mean, like food, maybe. Just like on Star Trek.”
“We have seen something similar on that show. Yes.”
“Like, food.”
“Yes.”
“Prove it.”
“I’ll do it,” Xander said, grinning broadly. He stepped up to the opening and said, in his best Jean — Luc Picard voice, “Tea. Earl Gray. Hot.”
The opening in the obelisk opaqued for a moment, presenting a perfectly featureless blank surface, and Xander began to turn his head in consternation to ask if it was something that he had done — but then the opening reasserted itself and this time, in the middle of the platform, sat a tall glass cup containing a brown steaming liquid.
They all stared at it for a moment.
“Well,” Dave said at length, after the silence began to stretch from astonished into awkward, “you asked for it — aren’t you going to taste test?”
Xander swallowed, and reached out for the cup. “I’m damned if I know what Earl Gray tea is actually supposed to taste like,” he muttered. “But here goes…”
Everyone craned in closer as Xander brought the cup to his lips and took a sip — and then grimaced, which made at least one of the people in the circle draw in their breath sharply. But Xander shook his head quickly to dispel the shock and fear.
“No, no, it’s fine, I think, but next time I think I will have to specify sugar. How does Picard drink this stuff? Give me a good cup of coffee any day…”
The opening opaqued briefly, and Xander yelped in consternation as a cup of coffee appeared on the silver platform. “Somebody get that!”
Luke took it and sipped. “Not bad,” he said rather reluctantly.
“Well, it’s great for elevenses,” Dr. Cohen said skeptically. “But what about — ”
Xander stepped away from the replicator, nursing his tea. “So why don’t you try it?”
“What am I supposed to do?” the doctor said, taking Xander’s place and staring helplessly into the replicator.