Page 7 of Oh No, I Shot A Spaceship And Kissed An Alien Cyberchef

Apparently, our hotel is pretty unique this side of the galaxy. Ignoring that most of the staff are females—which is a huge draw in a universe where the population of males easily doubles that of females—but by the very fact that we engage so much with our guests. We all blame Elana and her invention of “events” … which also seem to stem from us covering up royal stuff-ups.

This situation seems to fit the bill. If we can’t sweep it under the rug, might as well put a spotlight on it and call it performance art.

“Plus, if we screw up badly enough, maybe he’ll declare war on bad cooking instead of actual planets,” I laugh.

Silence stretches between us at my stupid joke. From everything I’ve heard, this General can blast our little hotel into a crater and not many people will bat their eyes. The Galactic Federation probably would, but we don’t get all that many police ships passing by our lonely, undeveloped planet. For the most part, we are out here fending for ourselves.

Nelan seems less than convinced, though. I’m totally on board with traditional cooking, but I’m going to need help. And as much as I love my new friends, I doubt half of them know the difference between a paring knife and a filleting knife.

“Besides, aren’t home-cooked meals often seen as asign of respect and hospitality,” Charlotte states, staring directly at Nelan, “One that usually only royals and the rich can afford to provide to guests.”

“Wait! What?” That makes it sound like traditional cooking is… good. While Nelan’s been leading me to believe that it’s looked down upon. I round upon him, ready to give him a piece of my mind.

His slumped shoulders and expression of resignation give me pause. I’m not about to beat a guy while he’s down. No, I’ll wait and use this piece of information like blackmail when I need it most. Like when I’m hormonal and I need someone to make me chocolate.

“This is a terrible idea,” he mutters. “We could serve the General emergency ration bars?”

He sounds so hopeful. The thought of handing a high-ranking military officer a sad, grey brick masquerading as food is enough to make me shudder. None of our guests deserve that level of torture.

His cybernetic hand clenches and unclenches. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs his options. I wouldn’t be surprised if he just quit on us instead, given how much he hates actually cooking… Huh, a chef that hates cooking—who would have guessed it. It’s like having a firefighter who’s afraid of water, or a librarian who hates books.

Finally, with a heavy sigh that sounds like it came from the depths of his very soul, he nods.

“I suppose we have little choice in the matter,” he says.

It’s all I can do to not squeal with joy. Sure, I’ve cooked a lot of meals in the kitchen from scratch… but to use a full commercial kitchen the way it’s meant to be, the chaos and fun. Oh, I’m going to enjoy this. It’s like being a kid in a candy store, only the candy is alien cuisine and the store might explode if we get it wrong.

“But if we burn down the kitchen, I’m blaming you,” Nelan says, glaring at me. “And if anyone asks, I’ll deny ever agreeing to this madness.”

I’ll take it. This is going to either be a culinary triumph or a complete disaster. Either way, it’ll make one hell of a story.

Zoe grins. “Well, this should be interesting. Want us to stick around and help?”

I glance at Nelan, who looks like he’s already regretting his decision.

“Maybe you two can handle crowd control?” I ask them. “Keep the guests calm and explain the situation?”

Charlotte nods. “We’ll spin it as an immersive alien experience or something. ‘Dine in the dark like the cave-dwelling weirdo.’”

“I went to a restaurant like that once,” Zoe remarks as they all file out the door. “Everything was in the dark, and you couldn’t see a thing!”

“That’s what happens when you’re in the dark,” Charlotte comments, her voice fading into the distance.

Oh jeez. It’s really hard not to laugh at people making statements like that. Rude, Laura! Rude!

I bite my lips, refusing to let a sound escape as I turn to survey the kitchen.

It leaves Nelan and me alone in the low-lit kitchen. It’s actually kind of cozy right about now. I’m sure we can find some extra candles around somewhere and then it’d be downright romantic.

Romantic? With him? Hell no. I’m going to be lucky to survive a whole day with him without murder. Sadly, I no longer even have a functioning freezer to hidethe body in.

“Alright, chef,” I say, trying to inject some confidence into my voice. “Let’s make some magic happen.”

Nelan’s expression is somewhere between a grimace and a smirk. “Magic? More like mayhem. But I suppose there’s no turning back now.”

One thing is certain—it’s going to be one hell of a dinner service.

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