Chapter 1: Sauce of Heresy

The dining room of Xeca was usually a place where the weary souls of Explorer 7 could find a moment of respite.

It was a sanctuary of stainless steel and recycled air where the smell of engine grease was momentarily replaced by the aroma of whatever culinary experiment was being conducted that day.

But tonight…

Tonight it was a war zone.

"You are a savage!"

The scream tore through the mess hall. It bounced off the metal bulkheads and rattled the cutlery on the table.

Gin stood at the head of the table.

Her face was flushed a violent shade of red that matched the spicy peppers she usually kept in her pockets. She was pointing a pair of chopsticks at her sister with the same lethal intent one would point a plasma rifle.

"I am an innovator, Gin," Tonix replied calmly.

She sat opposite her twin. She looked bored. She spun her spoon between her fingers with a lazy, practiced rhythm.

"You are a heretic!" Gin roared.

She slammed her hand onto the table. The plates jumped in terror.

"Look at what you did! Just look at it!"

Ragia sat between them. He sighed.

He looked down at his own plate. He looked at the chaos unfolding around him.

He felt tired…

Not the kind of tiredness that comes from fighting a Krall invasion or saving a solar system. This was a specific kind of exhaustion.

The domestic kind.

They were eating Glabarush tonight.

It was a delicacy.

A rare treat from the aquatic cities of the Mer people. It was a complex dish. A mixture of ground lamb, root vegetables, wheat flour, and chicken eggs, all hand-rolled into a shape that resembled a thick, rustic sausage.

It had been steamed for eight hours until the texture was soft and yielding, then smoked over aromatic wood chips to give it a dark, flavorful crust.

It was beautiful.

It was art on a plate.

And it was served with Birako.

A thick, pitch-black sauce made from a reduction of vinegar, tamarind, chilies, shallots, garlic, and soy sauce.

"It is meant to be dipped, Tonix!" Gin shouted. Her voice cracked with genuine emotional pain.

"Dipped! Lightly! You take the Glabarush, you coat the tip, and you eat it! You experience the smoky crust first, then the sour kick of the sauce!"

She pointed a trembling finger at Tonix's bowl.

"You... you drowned it!"

Tonix shrugged.

She used her spoon to push a piece of the sausage deeper into the black sludge in her bowl. The Glabarush was fully submerged. It was soaking up the liquid like a sponge.

The crust was gone. The texture was compromised.

"It tastes better this way," Tonix said.

She scooped up the soggy piece of meat and popped it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, maintaining aggressive eye contact with her sister.

"The sauce permeates the filling. It is a flavor explosion. It is efficient."

"Efficient?" Gin looked like she was about to have a stroke. "You destroyed the texture! You ruined the structural integrity!”

“It is mush! You are eating spicy mush!"

She turned to Ragia.

"Capt! Tell her! Tell her she is committing a crime against culinary arts!"

Ragia leaned back in his chair. He picked up his glass of water.

"I am staying out of this, Chef," Ragia said wisely. "I am just here for the calories."

"Coward," Gin hissed.

She spun around.

Her eyes scanned the table for an ally. They landed on the only person who had the cultural authority to judge this situation.

"Stealth!" Gin barked.

Gap jumped.

The poor Mer girl was trying to make herself invisible behind a large pitcher of water. She flinched as Gin's finger accused her.

"Y-yes, Chef?" Gap squeaked.

"You are a Mer," Gin stated. "You grew up eating this. Tell this uncultured swine how you are supposed to eat Glabarush.”

“Tell her!"

Gap looked at Gin. Then she looked at Tonix. Then she looked at the soggy mess in Tonix's bowl.

She looked terrified. Her gills fluttered nervously on her neck.

"W-well..." Gap stammered. She adjusted her glasses with trembling fingers.

"Technically... speaking... strictly from a traditional standpoint..."

"Spit it out, Stealth!" Gin demanded.

"It is wrong!" Gap blurted out. She looked down at her lap.

"If... if you did that in Atlantis... or any conservative Mer household... the elders would be very upset."

She swallowed hard.

"They... they might behead you," Gap whispered. "Ideally."

"See?" Gin threw her hands in the air.

"Beheading! It is a capital offense! Even the fish people think you should die!"

Tonix did not look impressed. She swallowed another bite of the soaked sausage.

"We are not in Atlantis, Gin," Tonix said. "We are on Xeca. We are in space. The laws of the ocean do not apply here. I am the navigator. I chart my own course.”

“And I choose to navigate my food into a sea of sauce."

Ragia watched them. He rubbed his temples.

He looked up at the ceiling. He looked at... me.

"Are you seeing this?" Ragia thought. "This is what I have to deal with. Every night, we saved the universe.”

“And now… we are fighting about soggy sausages."

I see it, Ragia.

And frankly, I have to agree with Gin.

"Narrator?" Tonix stopped eating.

She looked up, staring at the empty air above Ragia's head.

Yes, Tonix…

I am here.

"What do you think?" Tonix asked. "Am I a heretic?"

Listen to me, Tonix. I love you. You know I do.

But...

Gin is right.

"What?" Tonix frowned.

It is about respect, Tonix.

It is not just food. It is culture. Glabarush is designed to have a contrast in textures. The crisp skin against the soft interior. The sharp sauce against the savory meat.

By soaking it, you are homogenizing the experience.

"I like it homogenized," Tonix grumbled.

It is lazy, Tonix.

It is disrespectful to the chef. It is not like the Kivile debate. That is a matter of preference. Hot or cold, Kivile remains Kivile.

But this?

This is destruction.

"You are taking her side," Tonix accused. Her eyes narrowed.

"You are supposed to be on my side. You're my boyfriend. We are a team. We are... us."

I am objective, Tonix. That is my job. I narrate the truth.

And the truth is, you are ruining that sausage.

Tonix dropped her spoon. It clattered into the bowl, splashing black sauce onto the table. She crossed her arms. She puffed out her cheeks. She glared at the ceiling with a look of betrayal that could have frozen a star.

"Fine," Tonix muttered. "If that is how you feel."

She turned her head away.

"No special show tonight," she whispered.

Eh?

Wait…

Tonix...

"Nope," Tonix said, picking up her water glass.

"You can narrate the wall tonight. Or maybe you can describe Gin's apron. Since you love her rules so much."

Ragia choked on his water.

He coughed violently, slamming his fist against his chest. He looked at Tonix, then he looked up at me.

A slow, wide grin spread across his face.

"Oh," Ragia laughed. "Oh, that is cold. That is colder than your Kivile preference, Navi."

He leaned back, looking at the ceiling with pure amusement.

"Looks like someone is sleeping on the metaphysical couch tonight," Ragia teased. "No show for you, Narrator. No private performance. Just you and your adjectives in the dark."

Shut up, Ragia!

"I warned you," Ragia whispered, leaning closer to me. "Don't mess with a woman's food. Especially when she is your girlfriend. Now you suffer.”

“And honestly… I don't care."

He waved his hand dismissively.

"Focus on the story, Narrator," Ragia said. "Leave your love life out of this.”

“The readers are here for the sci-fi, not for your failed romance with my navigator."

I sighed…

He was right. He was an idiot, but he was right.

Ragia chuckled again, enjoying my misery. He turned his attention away from the sulking Navigator and looked further down the table.

"How is the science going, Prof?" Ragia asked.

Raya did not look up.

She was eating, but not really. Her hands were busy typing furiously on a datapad that rested on the table.

Standing behind her were two identical clones. They were made of shadow and hard light, perfect copies of the Alumos scientist.

One clone was holding a fork. It speared a piece of Glabarush, dipped it precisely into the sauce and held it to Raya's lips.

Raya opened her mouth, chewed mechanically, and swallowed without breaking her rhythm on the keyboard.

The second clone stood ready with a napkin, dabbing Raya's mouth the moment a speck of sauce threatened to stain her pristine lab coat.

"Inefficient," Raya muttered, her eyes scanning streams of data. "The batch is unstable. GT-698-Z is showing volatility markers in the third quadrant."

"Is that the fuel?" Ragia asked.

"It is the serum component," Raya corrected. "The molecular binding is weak.”

“If we use this batch, the duration might be reduced by forty percent. Or it might cause your kidneys to explode. The data is inconclusive."

"Let's avoid the exploding kidneys," Ragia suggested.

"Noted," Raya said. "Clone Two, water."

The second clone lifted a glass to her lips.

Ragia shook his head. Only Raya could turn dinner into a laboratory experiment.

He looked to his left.

Iya was sitting there. She wasn't eating. She was massaging her temples with her thumb and middle finger. Her eyes were closed. She looked like she was trying to telepathically strangle everyone in the room.

"Headache?" Ragia asked softly.

"It is not a headache, Ragia," Iya whispered without opening her eyes. "It is a lifestyle. I live in a circus. I married the ringmaster.”

“And now the clowns are arguing about sauce."

"It adds character," Ragia grinned.

"It adds stress," Iya countered.

Across the table, the mood was entirely different.

Arala and Xecta were huddled together over a large platter of dessert. They had finished their main course long ago.

Now, they were devouring Lokma.

Deep-fried dough balls, soaked in syrup and sprinkled with cinnamon. Mira had made them. They were warm, sticky, and apparently, life-changing.

"Balalaika!" Arala cheered. Her mouth was full. Syrup dripped down her chin. "This is zabarunai! It is fluffy like a cloud but sweet like a hug!"

"It is," Xecta agreed. Her rabbit tail was twitching at a speed that blurred the air.

"It is so soft, Arararan."

"Total gagaragu!" Arala declared. She shoved another ball into her mouth.

"Mommy is a magic lady! She makes the dough go fuwa-fuwa!"

"Eat slowly, Private," Mira giggled. "You will get a tummy ache."

"Worth it!" Arala shouted. "Bari-bari worth it!"

Ragia smiled…

He watched them. His family.

They were loud. They were messy. They were fighting about nonsense and eating dangerous amounts of sugar. They were dysfunctional in every sense of the word.

But they were his.

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment in the cold emptiness of space, everything felt right.

Then...

The light in the mess hall turned red. A low, pulsing sound began to vibrate through the floor plates. It wasn't a drill. It wasn't the toaster malfunction alarm. It was the proximity alert.

"Contact," Tonix said.

She dropped her spoon. The sulking was gone instantly. Her face shifted from annoyed girlfriend to cold professional.

Ragia stood up. The chair scraped loudly against the floor.

"The party is over," Ragia said. His voice was hard.

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