The Flying Saucer

As Turgen and Trace stepped inside the ship's cargo hold, they were instantly met with a droid awaiting their return. It was B3N, or Ben, although he hated being called that human name... B3N was a flight assistant droid, mostly programmed for quick sub-light destination calculations and loaded up with the latest star charts available. Just like the ship, it was obvious he was upgraded with improvised parts. The original frame was still present, but one of his arms was from another model, giving him one hand far larger than the other. His legs had received the same treatment, he was actually on wheels originally but that proved problematic given the different environments their missions brought them to. His head had been replaced with a big square box that lit up and showed simple animated facial expressions when he communicated. His original head had been shot off by authorities in a past mission, forcing Trace to improvise a quick repair. B3N was fairly essential for a well executed escape, as he could plot a sub-light course in seconds while Turgen could pilot the ship. The improvised head display stayed because Trace had grown pretty fond of it, she programmed in a bunch of different emojis, giving Ben a fairly unique personality.

"Oh, master chef!" Exclaimed the droid as a burger appeared on his facial screen.

"Standby Ben, we are going on mission. Trace will need you at the bridge to plot destination" simply explained Turgen, walking by the droid without much care.

A sad face came to B3N's expression display.

"You could at least say hello! All I do is wait on the ship for you!" He cried out as his owner ignored him.

Trace came to the side of the gloomy droid, passing an arm around his pelvic area.

"Hard to be appreciated around here, hey baby?" She pouted.

The robot turned his head to face the little mechanic, an angry emoticon appeared on its screen.

"I am not your baby, at best you are the Frankenstein to my monstrosity!" He exclaimed.

Turgen left the pair to their bickering and made his way to the central room of the ship: the cafeteria. As the automated door closed behind him, muting the argument of the hangar bay, the chef let out a sigh of relief. He made his way to the kitchen area, it was easily the most expensive place on the ship, with top of the line appliances, a wide array of spices and of course, the giant fridge. The over-sized doorway actually led to a cold room where Turgen kept parts of his previous contracts frozen, he always kept a cut for himself and the crew. He pressed a combination on the keypad next to the refrigerator's entrance which opened itself shortly after.

The cold air came out, sending chills over the chef's entire body. He walked in, passing by various meats all set up in deep freeze boxes categorized by their specific species. Each box was simple in design, having a phase shield that kept the freezing temperature inside, making it easier to just see the ingredients inside and reach out to them. The only problem was freezing your hand if you weren't careful... Turgen stopped before the container labeled "Zaskian Patties", feeling like the burger he saw on B3N's monitor had already planted the choice of his meal in his mind. The chef brought up his wrist console, tapping away into the various commands. An energy field suddenly appeared, covering his entire forearm in a transparent blue glow. He plunged his protected hand through the container's shielding technology without any resistance, the protective layer over his arm making sure it wouldn't freeze instantly. He picked two one patties between his index and thumb and took them out off the frost box. As soon as the meat left the container, it unfroze itself instantly, ready to cook. The chef then turned to the veggies area. Again, the same box technology was used, this time set up for each optimal condition the keep them growing fresh. He picked out a tomato from its respective plant bringing it to his nose to smell its aroma. He then went and fetched some buns, a cube of cheese and finally walked out of the refrigerator.

Setting up his ingredients on the counter, Turgen then turned on the large cooking plaque with the dial at waist height turned to medium heat. While the temperature rose, he brought out a cutting board and a large knife. He started cutting the tomato into thin slices, with strong steady hands, but also agility. Once finished, he tossed the patties on the grill, already hearing the grease bubbling as the meat touched the heat. Next, was the cheese. He quickly cut out two generous pieces. Turgen then reached for some spices and began powdering the meat pucks to compliment their flavor.

The door to the bridge of the ship suddenly opened itself, revealing Mirto walking into the cafeteria. He was an older man, with a slightly peppered beard. He had some age into him, but his arms could almost rival Turgen's, he was definitely shorter though. His wide smile revealed a single gold tooth among all the white ones. Apparently, Mirto was an old mercenary and this ornament represented all that he had left, until the chef eventually found him. His entire lower half was cybernetic. He was hit with a plasma grenade during a mission, melting it away. The mega-corporation he contracted under built him back up, but when he decided to walk away, they hit him with the costs of his rebuilt body, sending him into non-payable debt and bringing him into the criminal underworld. On the plus side, he only needed to put on shirts to get dressed... He was currently wearing a simple white tank top. The old man was the weapons and defenses expert of the ship. He pretty much knew how to fire any gun reliably and he understood the strengths and weaknesses of various systems. Mirto was the guy you wanted with you when a new ship or weapon came at you. The old mercenary rubbed his hands together as he approached Turgen.

"I knew I could smell something! Cooking again, Turgen? You know you can just buy a burger over at the bar" he said as he stood on the over side of the counter.

Turgen reached for his spatula and flipped the patties, revealing the greasy cooked side of the meat.

"Come on, you think a chef would tolerate the shit they make over there?" The crew leader replied.

"Would just make a whole lot less dishes if you didn't cook for every damn meal..."

The chef raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, is the dish boy tired?" He chuckled.

"I just finished mopping the floor of the whole place, give an old man a break." Mirto said back with his golden toothed smile.

"You know the deal, I pay you the big weapons expert bucks, you clean." Turgen said with a wink of his uncovered eye.

Mirto raised both his hands in submission.

"All right, all right... but I gotta eat first, that smell is making me starve!" He exclaimed, looking forward to biting in.

Turgen then separated the buns, laying them out on the counter. With his spatula, he took the patties off the grill and deposited them onto the bottom bread. Next was the cheese, making sure it would start melting from the heat of the cooked meat. Finally, the tomato, for a good squirt of freshness when you dig in. The chef then gently pushed the top bun onto the ingredients pile, letting all the juicy goodness come together. Without one more word, both men picked up and took a wide bite out of their respective burgers.

"Man, the fact that you make it so good without any ketchup really astounds me" said Mirto, still chewing on his mouthful.

"Ketchup is weak, all you do his hide the real flavor of the meal. A good burger can stand on its own without a cluster of condiments" confirmed Turgen, savoring every bite.

A lot of people mistook Turgen for just another thug. He grew up around the underworld and had pretty much been an outlaw his whole life, but he genuinely loved cooking. He just enjoyed all the different tastes, the textures and the art of the preparation. Normal food was nice, but the extra step of cooking something from an alien took it to a whole other level for him. Obviously it was not something he could open his own restaurant with, the whole protected alien species act made it very hard. So the next best thing was exploiting extravagant rich folk like Hemtosh. The thrill of adventure that came with each contract was just some fun on the side for the chef.

"So, what are we hunting?" Asked the old man.

"A Porlask..." answered Turgen.

"What the fuck is that?"

"I don't know, but with Trace getting lit up about it, I'm guessing it'll be a freak of nature like most of her work." Chuckled the chef.

Both men had a good laugh and kept on enjoying their meal, filling their bellies before the mission.