The humans’ alien visitors looked down at the floor of the starship. “Uhhh.”
Captain Rappan followed their gaze down. “OH! Haha, right, uh. Turns out humans don’t do so great without plants and animals around. Psychologically. Most starships have an agriculture level under the floor these days, and artificial sunlight for lighting.”
The floor was clear, and below it was a shallow level of green grass. Chickens milled about below, and in another section, a pair of ridiculously fluffy rabbits.
“What are those animals?” asked one of the aliens.
To Rappan’s horror, his very neurodivergent navigator appeared at his elbow and began SHARING. “They’re chickens! They lay eggs, which humans can eat. And we can give them the scraps from our meals, which supplements their feed! And of course, they like to eat the grass and dandelions and such, it’s a bioactive substrate with worms and bugs and bees — not honeybees, the big lone clumsy bumblebees —”
“Thank you, Lorne —”
“— and the grass serves as an air purifier, to some extent, and the poo composts down to fertilizer for the grass —”
“LORNE.”
But she was opening up the panel on the floor, and hopped down into the waist-high ag level. Several chickens ran over, expecting treats. She picked up the closest one, a bold speckled hen, cradled it to her chest and stood. The chicken bawked softly, asking chicken-questions to express its doubt at this turn of events. Another chicken made a break for it and hopped out onto the clear human floor; Rappan gently scooted it back into the ag level with his boot.
“If we can move on — sorry about this —”
But the aliens were now clustered around Lorne, apparently having some kind of emotional reaction. They reached out their tentacles and touched the bird, who tolerated this with the patience of one who has already witnessed events light years beyond their comprehension, and long ago decided to just roll with it and not worry too much.
“She’s beautiful,” one of the aliens said.
“They are all beautiful,” another intoned.
The third did something that Rappan thought might be the equivalent of crying. “It’s such an elegant solution. So kind to each other. A tiny replica of your life cycles planetside. Our species, as you know, has no home planet anymore, we have traveled the galaxy for millennia in our ships as a nomadic species. Truly you must hold such love in your hearts for your home!”
Rappan, who had only ever lived in cities and found the chickens deeply weird, just nodded along with Lorne. One of aliens made a strangled cry of alarm-delight, and Rappan followed their gaze to the ship’s tabby cat who had just strolled in. The cat passed sour judgment upon this scene and changed course to the dining hall.
“AND YOU HAVE A PREDATOR TOO!” all the aliens cried, and collapsed in a heap of emotion in the floor.
