Page 38 of Her Alien Cyborgs
He read the last line again.Beans? Time to clarify things with the AI. “Are you sure about that last one? Alyssa, I mean, Hezza, claims she’s not a fan of vegetables in general.”
“My data is correct. Baked beans is a dish made with legumes slow cooked in a tomato-based sauce.”
Okay, that made more sense. Actually, it sounded delicious. “Since she hadn’t made those yet, he’d surprise her with some. He’d heard her claim several times that the food dispenser always messed up the bacon, but he knew how she liked it. Crispy but not crunchy with a bit of give. How hard could it be to do that himself? The food dispenser could handle the rest.
It took him a while to get the food dispenser programmed for everything, and he had to override the portion sizes to make sure there was enough for everyone. A single loaf of bread wouldn’t make that much toast. Would it? His language database gave him several definitions of what a loaf was, but none of them sounded that large.
“Ship, where does she keep the bacon?” he asked once the food dispenser had started on the meal.
“In the refrigeration unit. Lower left shelf,” the AI replied. “Do you wish for me to increase ventilation in the galley?”
“Lower left, got it. Why would you increase the airflow?”
The ship’s AI made a soft humming sound but didn’t reply. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear it didn’t want to answer his question.
“Ship?” he prompted.
“On more than one occasion, members of the crew who have attempted to cook have created situations that produced large amounts of airborne particulates. Specifically carbonized foodstuffs.”
“You mean they burned their food.”
“Correct.”
“I’m not going to burn the bacon.” Hezza would not be happy if he ruined one of her favorite meals.
The AI didn’t respond, so he continued his prep. He retrieved the bacon and the same frying pan he’d seen her using the first time she’d cooked for them. He set the pan down on thestovetop, and then poked at the controls until a red light came on as a round section of the surface started to heat up.
It took him several minutes to separate enough bacon from the main block. By then the pan seemed relatively hot, so he dropped a handful of the meat strips inside.
The meat hissed and sizzled a surprising amount, but it settled down fairly quickly. While it cooked, he went looking for the tool Hezza had used to move the bacon around when she cooked. A spathel? Sapucla? He checked his language files. Ah. A spatula. An odd name for something so simple.
He found what he was looking for in a cupboard and turned back to the bacon.
The sizzling had started again, this time accompanied by a popping noise. He hurried back to the stove and poked at the slices.
The meat hissed at him like an angry animal and hot gobs of fat spattered everywhere. Some landed on his bare chest.
“Ow!” he yelped and swiped at the affected scales.
Annoyed, he prodded the bacon again. Hezza hadn’t had this issue.
This time, some of it stuck to the pan, so he tried to pry it loose with the spatula-thing.
The result was more hissing, more spitting, and more burns. Worse, the pan was starting to smoke a little. He wouldnotadmit the AI was right about his cooking skills and ask it to activate the ventilation in the galley. No. He could deal with this.
He spread his wings slightly, using them to fan the air and hopefully dispel the smoke.
The bacon wasn’t forming the neat, crisp strips they had when Hezza cooked. Instead, they were clumped together. The ends looked almost done, but the middle was still raw.
Fraxx.
“Need a hand, Cutie?” An amused female voice came from somewhere behind him.
“You’re ruining my surprise.” He turned his head to smile at Hezza. Instead of her usual ship suit, she’d chosen to wear a pair of soft, gray pants that hugged her legs and hips. Her top was dark red and sleeveless with only a pair of thin straps that crossed over her shoulders. Her slicked-back hair was damp from a shower, but she didn’t look refreshed. Her eyes were puffy, and the lines on her face were more pronounced.
“And, yes, I think I need some help.”
She joined him at the stovetop. When she held out her hand, he gave her the spatula but stayed where he was. He wanted to see what she did to fix this mess.
