No one said anything for a while after Wizzit turned off the recording. Speaking for myself, I didn't know what to say. I stared at the floor, the wall, the ceiling, anywhere but at Shelley or the commander. Finally Wizzit piped up. "Mike is bringing in Padma in twenty minutes. I need someone to make dinner."
Wizzit does a lot of things for us. He shops for groceries (no, I don't know how, but our kitchen is always fully stocked); he gets us heat, water, and power from somewhere; and he provides us with high-speed Internet access. Heck, he even manages to keep the bathrooms clean somehow. Still, a pink cloud of gas does have its limitations; he doesn't make meals.
All of us Primes share cooking and kitchen cleanup duties. I've gotten to be a pretty fair hand at it, myself. (The cooking, I mean.) Shelley encourages a lot of variety and Wizzit encourages light, healthy meals instead of anything heavy. (We are in constant training, after all.) So, while I like burgers and fries as much as the next guy, I wind up making a lot of the traditional Chinese dishes I grew up eating at home, stuff with lots of rice and vegetables and not a lot of meat.
For me, home-made Chinese is comfort food, but it does take a lot of time to prepare. I had thought it would just be Shelley and me tonight, and she'll often go home to Montana to eat dinner with her mom and dad. Peanut butter and jelly in my room had been the extent of my plans. "I think it's my turn," I said without much enthusiasm.
"Oh, let's just throw something together," Shelley said, trying to be helpful as usual. She stood up. "I'll do it with you. Dad, will you be staying?"
"Can't," he replied, looking down at his watch. He pushed himself away from his desk, then rose and came around in front of it. "I promised your mom I'd be home early today. Francesca's got a band concert tonight. You're planning on coming home for Sunday supper, right?"
"I wouldn't miss it."
She presented her cheek to be kissed, and he obligingly gave her a peck. "That's good," he said. "I know your mother's looking forward to seeing you. And, Trevor?"
"Yes, sir?" I had been studiously looking elsewhere. Their father-and-daughter talk sometimes made me feel a little like an outsider. And a little homesick at times.
He laid a friendly hand on my shoulder and squeezed. "That was really good work out there today. Top-notch stuff. I want you to know that. If you hadn't spotted JB Swift, we'd still be puzzling out what happened."
I grinned, feeling a flush of pleasure. "Thank you, sir."