The kitchen is huge. We employ two hundred staff just for preparing food. Even with automation, modern equipment and fresh ingredients straight from the agricultural bays it is an arduous task. You can’t just make a vat of spaghetti and meatballs and call it a day. Every race has specific nutritional requirements in addition to cultural and religious specifications. And that doesn’t even factor in personal preference. The rule is every single person on the Moby, regardless of their position, is allowed one specially cooked meal to their exact taste per day and two mass meals that are prepared in a more broad manner that can match their needs with some very easy modification. Snacks and instant meals are also provided for those who need the extra boost or don’t have the time for a proper sit down meal that day.

  Yesterday, my breakfast was porridge; it reminded me a lot of oatmeal, except mealier. I got a big pile in a bowl like most everyone else then had to pick some add-ins. I went with dried fruit and nut mix, also had a spice a bit similar to cinnamon. Almost reminded me of home. Those who couldn’t eat grain got either a vegetable porridge that smelled like broccoli farts or a gelatinous meat porridge similar to blood pudding. I was a lot happier with what I got.

  Lunch was a build your own soup deal. I could pick between a vegetable, bone, or fish broth and then add in some quick cooking fillings. I went with fish today then some starchy tubers, blue cream, small shellfish, and some crackers. A sort of Clam chowder approximate if you will. It was amazing how many combos people were able to come up with when we had relatively few options.

  Dinner for me was my personalized meal. As captain I get to pick which will be my one really good meal. Well really I could have all three be personalized if I wanted, I just feel that is rather unfair. I pretty much always take dinner. I like to end my days right; had an absolutely lovely seared fish steak with a seed coating and an umami sauce, a fresh green salad lightly drizzled with a citrus dressing and some Amber Turtle eggs with toast soldiers on the side. Plus a nectar wine to wash it down. I never used to be much of a foodie, but slowly making my way through the extensive menu on this ship has been making me one. Not that everything has been a pleasant experience. Turns out Rackter food makes Spartan Black soup look like food of the Gods. Their highest delicacy is a version of Rocky Mountain Oysters, except from some animal the size of an elephant.

  Fairy leads us to one of the farther corners of the extensive specialized areas. There are cooking methods going on I only barely get. Fortunately we are heading to a type of food I know very well. Deep fried baby. They got auto fryers that could fry a whole pig in half an hour. Could make a whole day feel like back at the county fair if I ordered it. This is where Sugar works, though I don’t see her just yet. The cooks assigned to this area salute awkwardly.

  “At ease. We are just looking for a friend. Do any of you know where Sugar is?”

  They point to a corner filled with even nicer equipment. Instead of machines there is something similar to a wok with specialty oils, high quality in house bread crumbs and genuine wooden utensils. This must be where they cook the more high quality dishes. Unlike most others, this station only has a single person. And the one we were looking for at that.

  Sugar’s name starts to make sense. Her fur is snow white, short and soft looking. Counting her ears, Sugar is about the same height I am. Not counting them, she’s around my chest and a good head and some change above Fairy. In almost every other way she resembles a bipedal version of Earth rabbits; save her teeth. She has little fangs sticking out of her lips. Reminds me of cheesy old vampire flicks. Sugar stands with far more confidence than Fairy does. Her black and white cooking uniform is not particularly flattering. Despite this I can tell she’s a good deal curvier than Fairy is. I was starting to think most mammals weren’t built the way humans were. Looks like I was wrong.

  “Nice to finally meet you Sugar. I've heard a lot about-”

  Two white fingers raise, gently shushing me. Sugar dips a wooden stick into the hot oil. Bubbles rise to the top. She gives a fanged grin. A bowl of batter seemingly materializes. To her right is a plate full of pre-cut and floured vegetables. Looks like various root vegetables, a variety of mushrooms and numerous green fresh herbs. One by one Sugar generously dips these veggies into the batter then quickly but delicately drops them into the oil. Hissing and bubbling as they cook to golden perfection. When each ingredient is done they are moved to one of three paper covered plates. As the last little delectable is done, she places a plate before us. I recognize mine. I had started ordering the assorted root fries as a side with half my meals. Easily one of my favorites.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Joan practically finishes her plate the second it's placed down. Mushrooms are like Star Spice for her. I make sure to savor my food and make liberal use of the vinegar dip. It’s a small rainbow of colors. The white wines are sweet while the purple have a hint of spice and the orange a strong bitter aftertaste. They are even better fresh out of the oil. Fairy grabs a broad leaf coated beautifully in crisp crunch, like a green snowflake, and enjoys its textures while making wide eyes at Sugar the whole while. Sugar plants a kiss on Fairy’s head before returning to her station. I can see her cutting another batch of mushrooms and Joan watched on in anticipation.

  “So, I finally meet the man who is trying to steal my Fairy away from me.”

  “Woah now. It’s not like that at all. I just, well, I-”

  “I’m just fucking with you. You aren’t nearly woman enough for her.”

  “I.. is that a compliment or…”

  “It’s a statement. Now, the Captain doesn’t come all the way down to my parts just for another batch of fried goodies. What do you need me for?”

  I had heard Sugar was a lot to handle. Did not expect this to be what Fairy meant.

  “I’m sure you are well aware of the Krint situation.”

  “You kidding? Cubit-ASS has been rushing us around non-stop trying to find something those ingrates will actually stomach. He made me use fish liver oil to fry up a hundred batches of fish fillet yesterday in some hopes that it would somehow get them to choke it down. Do you have any idea how terrible that smells? Doesn’t even make good cooking oil.”

  “Sounds like things have been rough. Don’t suppose you have any more ideas that might help?”

  Sugar places an extra large plate of fried mushrooms in front of Joan who starts to devour them the second it touches the table. She then pulls out a cigarette, lights it on the stove, and takes a deep inhale.

  “They let you guys smoke in here?”

  Smoke billows as Sugar speaks.

  “They didn’t use to. The whole kitchen has been doing everything we can think of. Don’t think I have to tell you morale is at an all time low.”

  That’s an understatement. If it wasn’t for the Chief berating people the only sounds would be the ambient cooking. No one is talking. No music. I’ve been to morgues that are cheerier.

  “Well it was worth a try. For what little it’s worth, you guys are not the problem. All of this is amazing. There has to be some way to find out what those people are thinking.”

  “I might be able to help with that part. My job was actually as a psychiatrist.”

  “No offense, but your planet was a tribal forest that hadn’t even figured out iron like 3 years ago. How did you have a psychology degree?”

  “We have nine different species forced to commingle. Finding non-violent solutions was kind of a priority. And my official title was “Chieftess of Not Killing Your Neighbor”. The threat of being eaten only holds the peace for so long, especially when dating comes up. You have any idea how pissed Fairy’s parents were when she brought home a Lapyn?”

  “They warmed up after you cooked for the Spring solstice.”

  “And cooled off again when they walked in on us in the flower fields.”

  “I told you to wait until night.”

  “And I chose not to listen.”

  They keep going at each in that playful way good couples sometimes do. Their voices may be slightly raised but there isn’t a hint of true anger or malice in either of their words. It’s sweet. Makes me a tad jealous. I haven’t had anything close to a real relationship since high school, if that even counts. A few flings here and there but not for a while. In fact, the last girl I was in bed with was….

  “More fungus for Joan pleases!”

  Sugar starts up another batch. Joan’s face is covered in crumbs and slobber. She looks like a hungry dog begging at dinner time. Sugar continues while she cooks.

  “Fairy told me a bit about this. Probably more than I should have heard, though not really enough. They stopped eating long before we came to pick them up, right? Why?”

  “The Krint were holding a daily feeding festival. This was the only time of day any of them ate. Then they just stopped holding them. So far nothing has gotten them to eat again.”

  “Can I see what these festivals look like?”

  I pull out the tablet and bring up one of these videos. It focusses on a stage where several Krint are eating copious amounts of food. Even Joan has better table manners. Almost all of it was food the Union had supplied.

  “Say Captain, why are only the Kings eating?”

  I flip the tablet over. Sugar is right. It is only Kings. The Prime King in particular at the center. The masses are just there watching this go one. Eventually the Kings get their fill and they leave. And then….

  “Sugar, cancel Joan's next plate.”

  “Whaz? Why do this?”

  “Because they need to cook a thousand orders and then some.”