"What do you mean you're in space!? like space space, or Gabby's Zero Gravity Recreation Room space?" Flower's incredulous voice was coming in clear from the communicator. I was speaking with him in my sparse cabin.

"As in I can see Ceres from here space."

"What the hell are you doing there? I was expecting you to go to the police when I got the news that your eatery got wrecked, not go void cruising."

"First off, the police IS with me right now. They're the one suggesting that I say here for the moment. Second, I kinda didn't have a choice on my destination. It was either hop in a drop ship or get diced by some really angry augments."

"Right, about that, who'd you pissed off? Why are you messing around with augments? God, did you take money from a loan shark or something? I know some people-" Flower was gearing up into giving recommendations. I cut him off quick.

"I'm not in debt. Well, not more the normal. In fact, if not for those assholes destroying my eatery, I would have been doubling up on my profits. I just made my last bank payment for the property. Congratulations to me, I now own a plot of land with rubble... Fuck!"

"So, what are you going to do now? Are you going to stay there or are you coming back soon?"

"I can't come back yet. Those guys that attacked my place are not happy with me. CPM said to keep off-world for the moment until they resolve the issue. Good news is, I got a job. You're talking to the new assistant cook of R.S.S. Woglinde. Whoot." My deadpan voice ending with a heavy sigh.

"You did that before right? On a water ship if I remember you saying that in passing. You told me you had to do that for a couple of years to pay for tertiary education."

"Yeah, it was a water ship. It was one of those pre-space cruise ships. Popular with the history buffs."

"You'll feel right at home then."

"That's not the point. The point is I'm now working as an assistant cook instead of running my own place. I'm on a ship, not just any ship, but a warship with an admiral bent on getting retribution."

"I forgot about that part. What about your place then? Are you going to just leave it like that? How about your housing unit?"

"The ship XO told me that he would be sending a couple of guys to pack a few things for me then I will seal the unit. I'm paid up for the rest of the year, courtesy of the Red Tiger Mercenaries, so hopefully, I'll be back in a couple of months to get my life back. I just talked with my insurance company and they said that 'destruction due to a firefight' was not covered by my plan. They reasoned that since I hosted an obviously high profile target in my restaurant, I accepted the consequences of whatever danger and destruction that might entail. Those fuckers." I angrily said. I almost smashed the desk communicator in my cabin from frustration when I talked to my insurer earlier.

“That’s… bad. You gonna be okay up there?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. When I served on a water ship before, I had to deal with history nerds and obsolete technology. I haven’t seen a gimbaled stove anywhere. I’m not sure yet how I’m going to adjust to working in a space warship but that is where I am right now. I just have to suck it up and hope that things work out in the end.” I think I was trying to convince myself when I said that.

“Anything I can do to help?” Flower asked. He really is a good guy. He just looks like a goon.

“Now that you mentioned it…” I then proceeded to give my best friend some instructions on what to do with some of my stuff at home. I was particular about him retrieving a certain box I had placed in my unit’s safe. I gave him the code and asked him to keep it for me for the time being. I also asked him to inform our friends and not to say anything to my family if he gets a message from them. I don’t want to panic them unduly.

We spoke a little bit more then I ended our call. I’m going to miss Baby. That sabre knows how to cheer me up whenever I feel down.

I sat back on my chair and started massaging my temples. I was tired, angry, and defeated. I closed my eyes and started thinking about our harrowing ride up to the Woglinde.

=================================================================================================================

We were powering through the atmosphere, trying to get as much distance from the hot zone when the dropship suddenly heaved, throwing us around.

“Admiral, surface-to-air missiles detected. Engaging countermeasures. Please secure yourself in your seats and keep calm.” The robot bodyguard announced to the group as it just finished securing the unconscious CPM officer in a stasis pod. A clear female tone can be heard coming out from the suit's speakers. It was very pleasant to the ear. I briefly remembered that a lot of businesses that deal with high-stress environments also uses the same voice package. It was carefully engineered to have a calming effect for multiple species that respond to auditory signals.

A pair of clamps descended overhead grabbing the robot and fitting it just beside the forward compartment. A small, robotic spider crawled out of the robot’s great coat and skittered towards the missing arm. The stump was dripping some bright blue liquid, a jumble of wires and electronics were jutting out of it. The repair spider straddled the damaged area and small appendages emerged from its abdomen. I could see a micro plasma torch cutting out a jagged metallic piece while the smaller appendages were working on the electronics.

I heaved myself onto a seat and fumbled for the restraints. The drop ship was not a luxury model. A civilian shuttle will never allow its passengers to get thrown around. Inertia compensators are too good for that.

We were getting rattled all over the place as the ship made itself a difficult target. I was able to find the proper button and slammed my palm on it. Restraints shot out of there holding sieve and instantly wrapped itself around me. It was perfectly snug, without the feeling of constriction. I noticed that I was the last person to who got secured. Even Kal, with his massive size, was able to secure himself on a custom slot reserved for people of his species.

“Unless they have a better controlling unit, were going to be just fine.” The admiral confidently said.

“What makes you say that?” Nabila was not having a good time. I could see her gritting her teeth and looking a bit green. I guess she’s not a fan of atmospheric flying. She looked like she’s going to hurl. The admiral pointed to a small compartment just below our seat. Nabila opened it and took out a fitted barf bag. She attached it to her lower face and grabbed her restraints. At least we won’t have to deal with vomit splashing around.

“Our ECM suite is jamming their targeting systems, heat, laser, and radar. They have to manually target us with portable SAMs. Hypervelocity missiles can only be fired from a mounted platform. Those chemical missiles are too slow to give us problems. Their payload is also too light to penetrate an assault drop ship’s armor. What they are really trying to do is to swarm us with as many missiles they could throw. Our point defense will destroy the incoming threats but the explosions would create a ‘heat zone’ which the HyVoc controller could use as reference points. That’s why we’re getting tossed around so much. We are evading more than destroying the missiles.” The admiral was cleaning his wound with a rag. He opened a compartment beside his head and took out a medical kit. He dipped inside it and grabbed a disinfectant spray. He thoroughly sprayed the injured shoulder then went back in the bag for a sealer. He took out a dropper and applied a clotting agent on the cut to instantly stop the bleeding. He then covered the wound with a temporary medical skin patch, the white patch slightly melting on the wound until it looked like the admiral grew a patch of white skin on him. He saw me watching him apply first aid. He gave me a slight nod and finished his treatment.

“Good enough for now. Woglinde’s doctors will properly address our injuries when we arrive.” He said as he returned the aid kit. I didn’t say anything back since I was too busy gripping my seat handholds. I didn’t want to accidentally bite off my tongue so I kept my mouth shut.

I could hear Nabila retching in her barf bag and her heaving was starting to get to me. Before I could grab a bag myself, the ride suddenly evened out.

“We have passed the effective range of portable SAMs. Time to arrival, 7 minutes.” The robot announced. The restraints snapped off. The robot stood up and made its way to a cabinet near an equipment locker. Its mangled right side was no longer leaking fluid. The repair spider was still hard at work and the damage looks like it was getting smoothen out. The robot opened the cabinet and pressed a button. The cabinet slid down to waist level then extended. A bar materialized in the cabin. Bottles of alcohol were prominently displayed on the extended rack, glowing in front of a dim yellow backlight.

“May I get anybody a drink?” The impromptu stewardess asked.

“Yes, thank you, mother. Whiskey, up. How about for our esteemed guests?” The admiral looked at Nabila and me.

“Uhm, a beer if you have one?” I stuttered out. I don’t believe this. We just dodged missiles and now we’re drinking alcohol.

““Whiskey for me too, neat.” Nabila ordered. She was grimacing as she disposed of the barf bag. She probably needed the strong drink to burn the taste off her mouth.

“Kal?” The admiral inquired from his massive protector. The Barral just grunted.

“Tea it is then. Bracing evening, was it not?” The man commented while taking a sip of his chilled whiskey in a martini glass. I was flabbergasted. Did we not just escape death? Was that just a dream? Why are we having a social evening?

The robot, Mother as the admiral called it, served me my beer on a tray. It was even perfectly flash chilled. I took the bottle and noticed that is a Johansen’s. These things are practically worth its weight in four digit credits. I could count the number of times I got to drink one of these.

“Admiral, pardon me, but what the hell just happened!? Why did somebody just shoot up my eatery? Is Ronald going to be fine? Because he’s definitely not okay. What the flying fuck is happening!” I was almost shouting at the end. My eatery, my bread and butter, was just destroyed. It took blood, sweat, and tears to get that built. I gave so much to get a nice spot in Gallant Street. The years of sacrifice and hard work just went out in a ball of laser fire. I took a huge swig of beer, not caring I just drank a week’s wages worth in one move but I was too worked up to give a damn. Before I could go on a rant, Mother blocked my view of the unperturbed older gentleman.

“Would you like some pastries? A cupcake perhaps? We also have a variety of nuts if you are looking for something lighter.” I didn’t see where she got the basket but she was now displaying a tastefully arranged basket full of croissants, rolls, slices of cold pies, and I shit you not, chocolate cupcakes with swirly icing sprinkled with glazed fruit shavings.

“No. thank. you.” I slowly hissed each word out. The robot was unaffected by my anger and continued her circuit, offering pastries to the passengers. Nabila almost threw up again upon seeing the basket. She quickly waved it away.

“Mr. Mayon, I cannot say I’m surprised by the blatant attack. Those slavers already tried taking my child. It was not a great leap of deduction that they would make a play for me. I’m just surprised that they made such a bold move. Publicly, I might add.” He calmly said.

“What! You knew they were going to have a go at you and yet you said nothing about it!?”

“Ah, I did not say that I knew they were going to attack. I suspected they will, and I was proven right.”

“But what about my eatery!? It’s gone. Everything I worked for… is gone.” My heart broke just saying it. I wanted to cry but I can’t do that while trying to maintain my anger. The beer was also making it hard for me stay steamed.

“Mr. Mayon, nothing I will say would undo the destruction of your establishment. The Red Tiger Mercenaries will make restitution for the damages incurred. That is clear. What is also clear is that you cannot go back to Illustratum for the foreseeable future.”

“I know I have been saying this a lot but, what!? Why? I’m no one. They don’t have any beef with me.” I pleadingly reasoned out.

“Unfortunately Albert, yes they do. Those we just fought were throwaway slave soldiers. Captured soldiers turned fighting slaves. They are sent to capture or kill by their masters. There is no room for disobedience for these slaves. All of them have explosives planted in their brain and heart. The triggering of said explosives all depends on their performance. They would either succeed or die. You noticed that they were heavily augmented, yes? It was not by choice. Successful slaves get minimal medical attention. It is much cheaper to replace missing limbs and destroyed organs with mechanical parts.

If you were able to see closely, you would have noticed that the augment parts were quite obsolete. Both of the augments I faced were untrained with its use. The forced augmentation made them fast and strong, not good. It is the price of success for a fighting slave. You get to live a little longer with less of yourself until you don’t.” The admiral paused to take a sip of his whiskey. Mother stood attentively by his side with the basket of goodies. She was going to refill his drink but he waved her off.

“How this relates to you Mr. Mayon is that you were seen in my presence. It is no fault of yours but you are now a known associate of mine. You also killed one of them. All slaves have optical recorders functioning at all times. They saw you throw that knife, brilliantly if I were to judge, and killed a slave.”

“But- but they were going to kill you! I was just trying to help you, not fight them.”

“They don’t know that. What they know is what they could see and what they will glean from the recording is a man throwing a knife and killing their slave.”

“Cleaver, not knife.”

The admiral raised an eyebrow at me.

“A cleaver. Mine is a variation of the Deba Bōchō style. A cleaver is basically a kitchen hatchet. It’s primarily used for cutting through big bones and tough meat. Certain cultures use it as a primary cooking tool. A kitchen knife is a general tool used more for precise cutting.” From the looks I’m getting, I know I was babbling again. I do not handle stress well.

“Thank you for the enlightening explanation. It still leaves the fact that you are a wanted man, Mr. Mayon.”

“So what do I do now? Will the CPM take me into protection?” I asked Nabila. It looked like she got her stomach in control and was listening to our discussion.

“That won’t fly sweetheart. Slavers are not known for their subtlety. They would just keep blowing shit up until they find you and the admiral or until we get them. Don’t get me wrong, we’re going to take them down but I cannot promise we would be able to do it quickly enough to ensure your safety. The Krait Slavers are notorious for having oodles of credits. They believe everything and everyone has a price. Somebody must have paid a fortune for the admiral’s capture. Someone will eventually sell you out to them and the next attack will be directed at you. The admiral has a big ole’ carrier sitting in space to fight back and a freakin’ army of angry mercenaries out for blood so he’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, don’t. They have too many slaves to be concerned about losses. The next time they start shit up, a lot of innocent people might get caught in it. We can’t have that.

We just need to find where they’re coming from. There’s probably a cloaked transport ship hiding somewhere in-system but it would take time locating it. Until we flush it out, you’ll be a painted target. I would have to call in to make sure but command will probably recommend you to stay too, if the admiral will grant you protection?" She looked at the admiral for an agreement after her explanation.

“He has it. He would not be in this position if not for my daughter and me.”

“Great. I’ll phone home and tell HQ about the situation. I just got an alarm on my ArmCom when we got away from those missiles. Ilustratum just declared a state of emergency. Air space has been severely restricted. The Navy just deployed half a dozen destroyers with fighter support. They’re blasting the area with radar. The planetary defense force is also being deployed all over the city. They’re rooting around for the slavers. I’ll need a ride back. Would you take care of Ronald for us?”

“Of course. He will be taken care of.”

“Great. If I may say so admiral, you’re a hard man to have around.” Nabila commented as she stared at her now empty glass.

“The consequence of competence, my dear. They wanted a fight, they’ll get one.” He punctuated the declaration with a hard tone. Mother started gathering up the finished drinks and reconfigured the cabinet back to its original form.

“What about me then? Will I be stuck in a secured room or something?” That’s what I remember from the vids I watched. Armed guys at the door while the witness play vid games inside.

“Nothing of the sort Mr. Mayon. I actually have a proposition for. While we shall be paying you back for the destruction of your eatery, the fact is you cannot return to Ceres in the short term. You are without employment for the moment.

I would like to offer you a position in the Red Tiger Mercenaries. Our former head cook recently retired. His former assistant has taken over his position but is in need of help. The fighter deck galley has been working below efficiency and if you take the position, we would gladly have you apply your skills in feeding our voracious pilots. It is not glamorous work but we pay well.”

“I don’t have to fight right?” I stood up and started pacing the cabin.

“No, Mr. Mayon. You’re a cook. You’ll be responsible for feeding those who do. Of course you will still have training in small arms and damage control but you will not be doing any assault drops anytime soon.” The admiral reassured.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” It was a rhetorical question while I kept on pacing. The admiral answered anyway.

“There is always a choice, Mr. Mayon. You can stay with us, secure and safe as you can be in a warship but there is not much to do. Or, you can be productive with your time and earn some extra credits for the trouble. For your information, the Red Tiger Mercenaries is not an easy outfit to join. Very few can own the red patch.” The admiral pointed at the patch on Kal’s armor. It was prominently placed on his right shoulder. The patch design is predictably very aggressive. A huge Bengal tiger on the pounce in front of a deep red background. It matches well with the black armor the Barral was wearing.

I took a moment to get my facts straight. I wish I could say that I had to think about it hard but there’s really nothing to think about. I’m stuck for the foreseeable future. I don’t have any source of income. Sure, I could be a passenger but like what the admiral said, a warship is not a pleasure ship. I don’t want to sit around all day staring at nothing.

I stopped pacing and approached the admiral. I stuck my arm out for a handshake.

“Thank you for the opportunity Admiral Chander. I gratefully accept the position of Assistant Cook.” I stated clearly. I wanted to be firm about this. I have to move forward and not think about what was already in the past. ‘You live in the present in preparation for the future while using the lessons of the past’ was something I learned from my father.

The admiral stood up and shook my hand with a genuine smile.

“Excellent. Report to the Head Cook once you get checked out by our doctors. Caution though, our venerable head cook has some anger issues so do not aggravate her unduly. Welcome to the Red Tiger Mercenaries. In the meantime, how about a glance of your new home?” The admiral nodded at Mother and a view screen on the forward compartment flickered on. The R.S.S. Woglinde was displayed in all its glory.

The Woglinde is a modified Light Carrier designed by the Ronwell Navy. It’s a 2 kilometer long, 7 decks spaceship of deadly intent. The carrier was modified to be a quick response warship that houses a complement of 2 full squadrons of Mk. 3 Spatha multirole combat spacecraft. It was originally made to carry about 4 squadrons but the Woglinde, and her sisters in the Red Tiger Mercenaries, have been modified to also carry ground troops. The ship is berthing an oversized battalion of ground troops along with their equipment. A squad of Risastór Mechs is also making use of the extra deck space. The ship has been modified to be able to stand alone or with minimal escort and to operate both in space and ground engagements.

Of course, I learned all of this later when I was fully integrated on the ship. As for now, I was looking at something that looked like an elongated cockroach. It’s really not flattering but I’ll be damned if I’m going to say anything. We were approaching the ship and I could see shuttles and a squad of fighters flying about. A quad of fighters was actually escorting us now that I could see outside. I didn’t know when our escort arrived but I’m glad they’re there. I know we’re no longer being shot at but it’s still a comfort to see that we have solid protection.

The ship itself was constructed with what looks like overlapping bands. It’s like an enormous segmented armor layout. The bow of the ship is large and round which slowly tapers off with the aft flattening out. I saw a shuttle enter from a hanger bay that became visible on its port side. I can also see a quick launch fighter catapult throwing a fighter from somewhere behind of the bands. The ship was painted black though I could see some pock marks and scratches here and there. I surmise that those were from stones floating around and smashing on the ship. Purely cosmetic damage now that I’m considering what it was built for. Sailors were doing some repairs outside. I spied a gang of suited repairmen working on an antenna. It doesn’t look broken to me but I know squat about spaceships.

We were slowly drawing closer to an open hanger when the fighters peeled off. Thinking about how tight those cockpits look like on those fighters made me think about our own. I turned to the admiral to inquire.

“Hey! I mean, admiral, is the pilot of our shuttle busy? I haven’t heard from him yet.” I asked. The admiral gave an amused smile from my lapse of decorum. ‘Hey’ is not how you call an admiral.

“We don’t have one. Specifically, rather, we don’t need one”

“Err... Pardon me?”

“Mother is piloting the shuttle. She’s been coordinating with the Woglinde ever since I called for evac.” The admiral explained.

“But she was with us when stuff started going down. How is she piloting the dropship?” I was thoroughly confused now. Nabila gave a chuckle and answered for the admiral.

“Mother is not just a robot. She’s the Woglinde’s A.I. You have to remember that advanced warships like this beauty on the screen rates a military grade A.I. controller. I would bet that Mother right here has a lot of limiters disabled compared to the military cores. It would allow for limited autonomous actions. I didn’t see or hear the admiral give her instructions for evasive maneuvers and not to blow up the missiles in the air. That was completely her, am I right sir?” Nabila’s asked expectantly.

“You are correct. The ship is currently in geosynchronous orbit from Ceres. The robot you see here is her personal avatar she uses when on away missions or when her personal touch is warranted. I admit, I have gotten used to having her around when on-planet. Having the ship’s A.I. at hand has saved us in multiple occasions. She can access the ship’s capabilities and bring it with us on street level. Her avatar can also function as a rear guard during desperate situations.” The admiral saluted the robot with his glass. Mother acknowledged the act with a graceful bow.

“That is enough for now. We are home. Mr. Mayon, welcome to the team. Ms. Akseldatter, when you are satisfied with the care of your partner, please look for me at my ready room. I would have words with the Ceres government.” The admiral’s hardened face doesn’t bode well for the guy picking up the comm. Nabila nodded and we stood up as the drop ship settled down on the deck. The side door opened up and a small welcoming party was waiting below. The admiral waved us aside as a party of nurses and a doctor rushed in with a stretcher. They quickly and efficiently extracted the injured officer from his stasis pod and placed him on the levitating conveyance. The doctor was already poking him with instruments and was giving concise orders to the couple of nurses pushing the lev stretcher down the gangway. The doctor gave a quick greeting to the returning officer then rushed off to tend to his ward. The admiral followed behind at more leisurely pace and shook the hand of the men waiting below. A stocky, bald man broke off from the group and walked with the admiral as he moved towards a lift. Kal deigned on using the ramp and just jumped off the drop ship. The heavy thud attested to his impressive weight. Mother’s avatar drifted off and I didn’t bother to look around. Nabila was about the work her way down the gangway when my previous experience working on board a water ship kicked in. I was actually impressed with myself when I thought about it later on. It was purely an automatic response. It’s been a decade since I last worked on a ship.

I barred her from exiting the ship with an arm. She stopped and looked at me with surprise. I turned to face the lead man on the ground who just finished talking to the Admiral.

“Permission to come aboard sir?” I asked.

The man grinned and pointed at me while looking at the older, weathered man beside him.

“Oh I like him. He has manners.” He turned back to me and answered. The other man was not impressed judging from his bored look. The older black man just stood there with his arms crossed chewing on... something.

“Permission granted. Come aboard and let’s get you settled in.” I winked at Nabila and she just rolled her eyes at me. I hurried down the ramp to meet my new bosses.

“I’m the ship’s XO, Matthew Lu. The cranky old man beside me is Master Chief Gordon Rains. He will introduce you to our Head Cook, Ms. Vasiliev. Word of advice, don’t make her angry. You got your bag with you?”

“Uh, no sir. My current employment status didn’t give me a chance to arrange for my possessions to be packed and ready.” I temporized. I didn’t really how I am going to arrange for some people to pick up some stuff from my home for me.

“Relax. This is not the navy. We don’t stand at ceremony. Well, sometimes we do but those are far and in between.” As if to prove a point, the master chief decided that it was the perfect time to let one rip. The XO grimaced and shot the offender a nasty look.

“What? What’s your problem now? It’s not like you don’t do it yourself.” The older man grumbled. He was not at all intimidated by the XO. The XO was not an big person. In fact, he looks like he was void born. Soft, light skin and slight frame of body. You have to spend a lot of time growing up in zero gravity to get that stretched look. Doctors had to mess around with genetics for void living to be a thing in the past. There are still some people that practice it but it has fallen out of fashion. The void born were just too much trouble their worth when working outside their weightless environment. They make for great station hard dock workers but nothing else. Even ships have Terran normal gravity.

“Excuse me gentlemen but can we go to the infirmary now? My partner is in there.” The urgency in Nabila’s voice was very apparent.

“I’ll lead the way. Master chief, why don’t you tell our newest hire how things work around here? Mr. Mayon, get back to me tomorrow so we can get your stuff.” The XO then waved Nabila to walk with him as we started moving towards the lift hatch. He began asking her about the incident back in Ceres. The master chief dropped back and started my instruction. I paid attention because the man looks like he doesn't take shit from anybody.

“First thing, don’t piss Franny off. It’s the fastest way to get killed. Talk to the others and you’ll understand why. Next, you have two days to familiarize yourself with this the ship. I expect you to be able to walk around this deck blind if needed. Our old head chef’s replacement has been doing a bang-up job. She just needs an extra hand from what I hear. I love to eat so don’t fuck it up. Lastly, get yourself kitted out. You're kitchen staff but if you want some respect, better learn how to shoot. I'll tell the armorer to issue you a sidearm. Work it out with Franny but I want to see you at the range every day until I'm satisfied you can hit something smaller than a shuttle. At least look the part of a mercenary. Got it?" He wasn't really asking a question. I still gave a good 'yes sir' to be sure.

"Call me Master Chief, not sir." the man quickly corrected. I made sure that I remembered that.

We arrived at the infirmary and Nabila quickly strode towards the nearest nurse to inquire about her injured partner. XO Lu gave the master chief a nod and left. Another nurse approached me and ushered me to an examination stand. Master Chief Rains took a chair by the door and took out a pad. He was already immersed in what he was reading by the time I got the stall. The nurse had me strip to my undies and stand in the middle of the examination stall for a scan. Except for some minor scratches and bruises, I was deemed healthy. I was about to put my clothes back on when I noticed how filthy it was. It was covered in dust and pieces of my kitchen counter were stuck all over it. Thankfully, I didn't put it back on as the nurse handed me a clean gray overall. I slipped it on and hustled back to the master chief. He was already stepping out the infirmary when I got caught up with him.

"Time for you to meet Franny." Was all master chief said.

A couple of turns later, we entered a huge galley. Using my previous experience on a ship, I would venture that the galley could fit about a cool hundred or so. It's pretty clean though the bolted tables and benches were a bit battered. The bulkheads were covered with faux wood paneling in an uneven alternating pattern. Posters of popular vids and some scantily clad women, men, and aliens adorn the wall. Some even look like they were printed on real paper. There was also a life-size replica of pornstar Janet Roxx posing in the corner beside the beverage dispenser. I checked the flooring and the deck has been given the brick treatment. I stomped on it and a suspicion I had was proven true. The bricks were plasticrete molds about 3 centimeters thick. It's a sensible decision given that bricking is heavy and very difficult to clean. The benches and tables are all industrial grade. Probably fabricated specifically for the ship. The sizes are off and adjustments were made for non-human crew.

The sound of the master chief clearing his throat stopped me from continuing my inspection.

"Satisfied? so, you really do know what you're about. Franny's going to love you." I caught up with the older man as we entered the preparation area. I immediately recognized the longitudinal layout of the kitchen. Massive appliances were placed at the back with everything else around the bulkheads. It would take me some time to get used again to the design. My kitchen was an island-style layout. I took the time to think about how to ergonomically place my equipment before I had it built. I've even done some simulations before I finally approved the final design.

I stopped looking around the focused on the people we were approaching. A woman was working on some dough while directing two other people who were working on different stations. The woman was pretty short. About a meter and a quarter, I would say. She has bright red hair and a curvy build to complement her pale complexion. She has a smooth rounded face with generous cheeks that make her look younger than what I think she is. Freckles sprinkled on her petit nose works a lot on her look. She's very cute actually. She would be a lot cuter if wasn't angry.

"No, no, no! I told you to set the cutting width to 2.5 centimeters. Larger cuts will take more time cooking. Why are you not following my instructions!?" She bellowed at the guy feeding the vegetable processor with carrots.

"But there's a gazillion of these things, Franny. It would take me forever to finish this." The man whined.

"I don't care if you have to feed that thing the entire ship's store of carrots but you will cut it correctly or help me, I'll throw you out of the airlock." She threatened. The man grumbled but did start pressing buttons on the processor. The other guy, an Inugorian, was quietly watching an autovat slowly stirring broth. He was trying to keep himself from getting caught up with the woman's wrath.

We stepped up to the preparation table.

"Franny" The Master Chief greeted. The woman gave her cowed assistant a last scowl then turned to face the master chief. She wiped her hands on a rag on her apron while a servidrone picked up a tray full of unbaked rolls and dropped it off on the oversized oven.

"Gordy, if you are here to give me one more meat shield masquerading as a cook well you can take him back. I've enough headaches as it is. Do you know how useless these two are!? and they're already the best you can do!" She barked at the man as she stood nose-to-chest in front of the immobile officer. I was expecting for the master chief to put her in her place but he just raised his arms in surrender and spoke to her as calmly as you please.

"I'm sorry Franny. You know that restaurants pay better for good cooks than a ship. I promised you that we'll find a qualified cook for you when we get back home and I meant that. For the moment, I have a present for you. This is your new right hand man in the kitchen. He-" the master chief never got to complete his sentence as the angry cook whipped her baneful gaze at me.

"Do you even cook!? What have you done that they had to throw you here? did you get somebody killed?" Her rapid-fire questions were punctuated with her getting up close and personal.

"Well, uhm, I can cook. I'm no chef or anything but I used to serve both lunch and dinner in my eatery. I-"

"Wait, you OWNED an eatery?" she asked with a squint of her eyes.

"Uhrm, yes, I do. was small though, about 11 tables and a bar. I have a couple of servidrones as waiters but I cook-" I was speaking fast and trying to enumerate my qualifications when she kissed me. Hard. I froze from surprise. Before I could recover, she whirled and gave the master chief a bear hug. She actually lifted the man off his feet and twirled him around. Master Chief Rains, the man both officers and crew probably feared, couldn't do anything. Franny dropped him and pushed him towards the exit door.

"You got it good now. Don't fuck it up. Don't make her angry understand?" The master chief whispered in my ear as he passed me. I was starting to get concerned with how many times people remind me of her temper. The fiery woman grabbed my hands and now has a beautiful smile on her face.

"You don't know how long I've waited for you."

"Uh, you know me?"

"No I don't but that doesn't matter. You can cook. I mean you can cook, proper-like? Did I hear you right?"

"I don't know what you mean by proper cooking but I can cook." I replied with confidence. I'm a damn good cook if you were to ask my former customers. She squealed, clapped her hands and did a perfect pirouette. She then started fist pumping while shouting in a language I don't understand. I looked at the two other cooks with confusion and they just smiled and high-fived each other. The guy she berated earlier gave me a thumbs up.

"Wonderful! Please tell me your are starting today?"

"I signed up today. Master Chief Rains said that I have to work on my shooting skills but other than that, I'm your man."

"Great! We're finishing up here. That dough is for later so give me a moment so I can clean up." I called out to her before she went back to work.

"By the way, how should I call you? is Ms. Vasiliev okay?"

"Pfft. That's too formal. Just call me Franny. Everybody does." She went back to work and was done in ten minutes. She asked a couple of questions and discussed what was expected of me while she worked. When she was done, she gave last minute instruction to the two assistants and shooed me out the door. I followed her around as she took me to the supply officer to get some extra clothes and sundries then escorted me to my new cabin. Apparently, I rated a private one. Granted, it's a small one but it's private nonetheless. It even has its own refresher. Franny explained that it used to be hers before she moved in the larger, more comfortable cabin that the old head cook used to occupy. She told me to get some rest because I'll be reporting for morning watch. She left me to my devices as I stood in the middle of my cabin.

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A beeping sound woke me from my nap on the chair. I checked my ArmCom and found some files from Franny and Master Chief Rains to work on. I stood up and stretched. I cracked my neck and took a deep breath. It has been a crazy, unbelievable day. I went from being a restaurateur to line cook in a span of hours.

I shook off my melancholy and undressed. I slid under the covers of my bed and was asleep almost instantly.