Once they were safely in the lane toward nowhere (he’d zig-zag once more before plotting course for Abilene) Fel left the flight deck, slapping Wrench once on the noggin good-naturedly, the flat, loud metallic sound reverberating around the cockpit, before he left for his bunk, as if signalling “you’re it,” to the little droid. Getting the rest of the stormtrooper’s gear off felt especially good. And the shower that followed felt even better, washing away what remained of Lotho from the crevices and hard-to-reach areas, like getting rid of sand from a beach. When he finished, he said a silent word for Dazac, Jace, Liya, Mack and even Wade (that son of a motherless Eopie) – those who had gone before, and wished them well, wherever they were. Some above ground, some below. None here. Dressing in one of only a few different sets of clothing he owned, Fel omitted the gun belt for the time being. This was home, and home was as safe as things ever got for folk such as them. 

He moved out into the UA’s main common area, nodded at the Doctor seated at the broken Dejarik table, and moved into the galley. It had, he mused, been a long time since he had cooked for so many, or even that so many had been aboard. The spacer took in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. His skills in the galley were meagre. In fact, there were only a few things he ever cooked in great quantities. He pulled out packaged protein, and some dried goods, hydrating them. Then he paused and sought out Zane, finding him in the cargo hold talking with Aellyn. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, and excused himself. [color=F7941D]”'Scuse me bustin’ in like this. When you’re all done here, Zane – I could use your help in the galley.”[/color] He smiled honestly at Aellyn, and returned to his task. Beginning to fry up the protein, he seasoned as he went. After a little while, he could feel a presence by his right arm, and glanced over to see Zane had arrived. The smells of not-half-bad cooking permeated the ship. 

[color=F7941D]”Far smarter man than I once said that a good chilli was all about the seasoning. Now… I don’t know about that. But I can sure tell you that a man tends to forget about the dehydrated this, and the packaged that, if you can season it half-decently. Now, the bread we’ll be makin’ to go along with this… that’s science. Plain and simple…”[/color]

The boy, tall and slender, moved into the galley and looked around at the smattering of cooking utensils hanging from hooks and magnets, taking in the scent of the seasoned protein and feeling himself begin to salivate. This was likely the first time he’d smelled food that good in weeks. Most of what he’d had lately - if anything - was simple dried goods that kept well under the acrid conditions of that waste planet. He tried to listen to what Fel was saying, but his stomach started rumbling the moment he’d walked through the galley doors.

And then he’d heard Fel mention ‘bread’ - something he hadn’t had in years.

[color=cyan]”W-Wait, what? You guys have bread?! That’s so wizard!”[/color] he exclaimed excitedly, [color=cyan]”I haven’t had anything but protein in various forms and packaging for stang near a decade…”[/color]

Fel smiled to himself, and pulled a few measuring spoons out of a drawer, and opened a small storage compartment beside the cook-top and extracted a few very old tins which had once been Navy field rations, now hastily scrawled with ‘yeast,’ ‘sugar’ and ‘salt.’ He poured off a cup of water from the internal storage tanks and began sifting ingredients – all average, run of the mill endeavours to someone who’s seen it done a thousand times, but Fel knew, even with the janky, homespun, jury-rigged nature of his galley and utensils, this would all seem like proper alchemy to Zane. [color=F7941D]”Chilli ain’t no good without bread, Zane. Exact measurements. That’s the way with bread, and hell, I still kark it up half the time meself.”[/color] He used up the last of the sugar in order to get the recipe underway, and he was low on yeast, too. Fact was, the galley was almost out of most everything. That’s just the way it was. 

He added more of some of this, and a touch more of that to the protein, and then dumped it into a pot. There were no fresh vegetables, but that’s what dehydrated foodstuffs were for. He opened another vac-sealed packet, which looked like a few tiny red seeds, and hydrated them, withdrawing four plump tomatoes from the steaming device. [color=F7941D]”Here, kid. Get to choppin’ these up. Nice ‘n small. And try to save all the juice. We’ll need it.”[/color] The kid’s eyes were big as saucers as the process continued, each new item or pinch of seasoning adding to the flavours and smells. 

Fel smiled once more as the scents began to permeate the UA, mixing with the gear oil, the smell of acrid, hot electronics, and the general waft of beings cramped aboard a near hundred-year-old ship. It was an odd mix, he’d have been the first to admit it, but there was something oddly comforting about it too. And as the crew began to congregate in the common space - drawn by their noses, and as conversations and laughter filled the gaps between the creaks of the airframe and the thrumm of the engines, it began to sink in that they had made it. They were alive.