The Dead Tyrants laugh and cheer as they bring the four enormous cubes of frozen skyray wagyu up to the kitchen. Sebastian stands in the center of the kitchen, next to the Captain. She seems pleased with the update, though she only shows it faintly.

In an odd turn of events, Sebastian is giving out orders to pirates. Whenever he requests a specific piece of cookware, someone brings it to him; or at least something vaguely similar. It seems that hunger has temporarily obscured the power structure. So far, they’ve brought him large cast iron pans, baking sheets and a few utensils. He requested some herbs earlier—the jury’s still out on those.

"Do you have any cooking oil?" He asks.

The pirates laugh.

"The only oil we have is for the machines!" Ringo yells.

"Um, actually we might have that." Dusty says. "It’s in the loot room. I think June went to grab it."

June runs into the room carrying a small white crate.

"I’ve got those fancy cooking supplies we thrifted from that yacht last month!" she yells excitedly.

"Speak of the little she-devil herself!" Ringo yells. A burst of laughter fills the room.

June opens the lid of the chest. Sebastian’s eyes go wide.

"Oh, wow!" He says with an unfiltered surprise.

The room has gone quiet upon his reaction. He looks around to see that everyone is staring at him.

"Well. They must be either quite good or especially bad to elicit such a reaction from a professional." The Captain says.

The pirates laugh.

"Hopefully, it lives up to your standards?" She leans forward.

"Um… Yes. They do. They're the exact same spices we use at the restaurant." He explains.

Inside the crate are simple plastic containers of freeze dried thyme, oregano, rosemary, onion and garlic powders along with small glass bottles of peppercorns, sea salt, paprika, nutmeg, cinnamon, and olive oil. The essentials. No branding, just bulk purchased from the same spice lab that every Lunar establishment sources from. Labeled on every container and in large letters across the lid of the crate are the words: 'MOON MADE'.

"So, we'll be dining like the royals tonight?" She jokes.

The entire room laughs again.

"We’re already Tyrants, aren’t we? We should be eating like ‘em, too!" Ringo yells.

The crew laughs and cheers some more. Someone haphazardly throws a knife at one of the wagyu cubes. The blade is deflected off the frozen block’s surface and goes clattering onto the floor. Sebastian stares at the cube. He’s struggling to find any mark left behind by the knife. The Captain puts a hand on his shoulder. Despite what her intentions may have been, this gesture brings Sebastian no comfort. Her posture straightens and everyone quiets down. This must be a signal that she is about to address the room.

"Lay the cubes out." She commands.

The crew scrambles around, completing her order within seconds. Two enormous blocks of frozen wagyu sit atop the counter. The Captain steps up to them and draws the dagger from the sheath on her harness. It’s an intimidating weapon, but the most intriguing thing about it is the colorful pattern woven within its blade. Darkened Damascus waves glimmer along the dagger’s flats from heel to point. Within these waves, chromatic crystals dapple brightly as the blade’s sheen passes over them. Sebastian is familiar enough with premium cutlery to identify the metal this blade was forged from.

Pearlescence.

It’s a very rare metal that has a reputation for being supernaturally durable. Apparently, it is sourced from the pearls of Iridescent Stargazers—enormous predatorial land fish that can remain stationary for weeks, waiting for prey to pass above their deadly maw. Pearlescence is an incredibly difficult substance to source, making it one of the most valued alloys in the solar system.

CHOP!

The air is churned violently as the Captain’s blued steel arm becomes a blur accompanied by a bright flash of colorful light. Sebastian’s shoulders jolt as he is thrust out of his thoughts. It takes him a moment to process what has just happened. In an instant, the Captain’s blade has travelled through the frozen block, splitting it perfectly. Her control over the blade is incredible. She sliced through the cube, but managed to slow her knife just before it hit the counter, avoiding contact between the blade and counter altogether. The force of her slash was strong enough to sunder the last of the connected flesh.

The pirates cheer again. The Captain continues to slice the cubes down into quarter cuts, creating large batons of frozen wagyu—though because of their size, they’re more comparable to bricks. Her form is practiced perfection. It’s both impressive and intimidating. Halfway through the second cube, she stops momentarily after slicing a half cube down to quarters.

Steel arm down, the Captain raises her other hand, on which she wears a thick black glove. Her posture becomes tense and the expression on her face becomes focused. She gently waves her hand side to side as if to say the last slice was so-so. Sebastian doesn’t understand the gesture, the slice looked just as masterful as the ones that had come before it. However, he does feel an odd shift beneath his feet as her hand waves.

She resumes slicing and soon there are sixteen bricks of frozen wagyu neatly stacked across the kitchen counter. All the while, June has been taking all the containers out of the spice chest and neatly arranging them across the counter. She has the same intense look in her eyes that he has seen before. Looking across at everything he has to work with, he breathes a sigh of relief. This is more than enough to make a good meal with. This is good. This is surprisingly good.

"Do you have a mortar and pestle?" Sebastian asks.

"Oh yeah, we have one for grinding gunpowder in the munition’s room." Ringo answers.

"Um…" Sebastian instantly imagines several unfortunate outcomes to this proposition. Before he can attempt to veto the idea, Ringo sends a crewman off to fetch the mortar and pestle.

"What do ye need it for, lune?" Ringo asks.

"I need to grind these peppercorns—"

"Ah, I can take care of that. Ya go on and get yourself sorted."

"Okay…"

The Dead Tyrants watch Sebastian closely. The Captain seems a little disappointed with how quickly the attention shifts away from her, but she smiles nonetheless. Despite the horrible conditions, the injuries sustained and the damage the ship has endured, spirits are high. By some miracle, the crew is happy. And because of this, she is happy. She feels a little foolish for forgetting how much of an impact good food can have.

This is good. This is surprisingly good.