“Ship?”
“Yes, Zeke.”
“Can you rustle up a cup of coffee?”
“Affirmative, Zeke. Is that with milk and sugar, or plain black?” Ship asked.
“White, three sugars, please, Ship.”
There was silence for a few seconds. Then, a tall white china coffee cup materialised on the table, filled with steaming dark brown contents. The aroma was instantly recognisable as a filter coffee blend from his local coffee shop.
“Thank you, Ship.”
Zeke smiled, wondering briefly if some poor schmuck back on Earth had suddenly seen their fresh coffee disappear from in front of their very eyes.
He took the mug by the handle and drew it up to his mouth, tasted the contents and then grinned at Zirkos.
“A little strong, but perfect tasting coffee. If you don’t mind, I would like to stay, especially if Ship can rustle up the occasional burger and fries, even if it has to materialise it from my local takeaway,” Zeke responded.
Zirkos laughed. “Well, I think I would have preferred it if your decision had been based on something a little more profound, like universal peace or the future of mankind, but I suspect that such mundane things as a beverage, or a meal, can come high up the list in deciding factors.”
“Exactly!” Zeke affirmed.
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