You may describe the dish by reference to others; or, if you prefer, you may make another selection."
Stoudemeyer must have heard the house's response, or at least enough of it to extrapolate the remainder. He hopped out of his chair with the smug expression replaced by one of concern. "Hey, I'm sorry, sir, I forgot. This place is probably as old as the ones back home. I mean—maybe eight hundred standard years. Can you believe it? That old and work like this still? He was a genius, a bloody genius."
"You mean try Earth food, not Tethys', because this place was built before the Settlement," Slade said to clarify what he had just been told. One point at a time.
"Right, or Telemark food," Stoudemeyer agreed. In test and demonstration, the man from Telemark said, "Bring me hassenpfeffer and a mug of, oh, any lager."
Slade could hear the voice saying from beside the other mercenary, "Yes sir, your food will be brought in forty—three—seconds."
"And this isn't half of it," Stoudemeyer confided to Slade. All around the room, outlaws were exploring this new capacity of the dwelling. Some of the men were demanding protein rations after a series of failures to come up with any other meal from the hidden menu. "The real thing about bubble houses is the dream-code feature." He kept