Stray Cat Strut

Chapter Seven - Exotic Cuisines

Chapter Seven - Exotic Cuisines

"You don't want to go to war with an empty tummy now, do you?"

-Tankette, to Brigadier General Thibodeau, 2057

***

We had a light lunch, which in my mind meant ordering up something from Myalis to snack on before we headed out, but apparently that wasn't right according to Tankette.

The woman heard my plan to just order something to eat, then she calmly but firmly put her foot down. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said.

"You don't?" I asked.

She shook her head. We were still in the command pavilion in the middle of the highway, but Tankette looked ready to leave. "Sure, ordering food is fine when you're busy, but you can't order food that has any love or attention put into it. Come on, follow me, please."

I glanced at Gomorrah as Tankette left the pavilion, but all I got out of the nun was an unhelpful shrug. So I followed after Tankette, and soon the others did the same with varying amounts of enthusiasm.

Tankette's tank was parked next to the Fury, but it started to rumble and move before Tankette was even there. The little tank rolled towards us, then did turn on the spot so that its rear was facing our way.

The samurai popped open a small trunk at the rear, and I blinked as I saw how much space was in there. It looked like the space where the engine should have been was mostly taken up by shelving and a few unfoldable things.

Tankette tugged a bar out, then stepped back while pulling it. A whole mini-kitchen came out of the back, along with a small countertop. Pieces clicked into place, parts folded into parts that snapped and locked until she had her entire setup ready before her.

There were two little stovetop rings, a small oven-looking thing, and what I suspected was a microwave next to the bottom half of a blender. "Okay," Tankette said as she turned our way. "Are there any dietary things I should know about?"

I looked around. "Uh, not for me?"

"I'm fine with everything," Gomorrah said. "Are you going to... cook?"

"Why yes, of course," Tankette said.

"Strange," Crackshot said. "But alright, I'm down for it. I don't like onions."

"Don't like, or are allergic?" Tankette asked.

Crackshot frowned. "You know when you make eggs and you leave a bit of shell in the egg and then you bite on it?" he asked. "Yeah, onions do the same for me. It ain't so much the flavour, it's the texture that's all wrong."

"I'm allergic to sesame seeds," Princess said with a little wave. "I get a rash, it kinda sucks."

"I'm vegan," Knight said. Princess rolled her eyes next to her.

"Nothing here," Hedgehog said.

Tankette clapped her hands. "Fantastic! Does anyone want to help me cook? I'm thinking... a nice little veggie stir-fry? Princess, are you okay with quinoa? I think they're a kind of seed."

"I think I'm okay with that, yeah," Princess said. "I can help you cook. But Knight can't."

"What? Why not?" Knight asked.

"You don't know how to cook," Princess pointed out.

Knight shifted a little. "So?"

"You can help with the cutting," Tankette said. She turned towards the countertop at the back of her tank and then a few boxes thumped into place. They were the same plastic boxes as every other item ordered up for points, only these had little cartoon tanks stencilled on the side. One of them looked like it was a bit thicker, like a cooler box.

Hedgehog stepped back a little, looking entirely unwilling to help with all of this, but Crackshot stepped up and started to unpack things next to Tankette. "Lemme help ya there," he said. "You said stir-fry, yeah? Never was one for that kinda fancy stuff, but I know my way around a potato peeler just fine."

Our group split in half. Those of us who could and wanted to cook, and the rest of us who kind of just... lingered there.

"Uh, so you were a PMC, yeah?" I said to Hedgehog. He was standing there with his arms crossed, looking a little frustrated with all of this.

"I still am," he replied. "My contract hasn't expired."

"You know, as a samurai, I don't think you actually need to follow any contracts," I said.

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He nodded. "I know."

"Okay, well, if you know," I said.

He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, then sighed. "Forgive me. It's not about the money or even loyalty to the company. It's about principle. I don't break contracts. I gave my word, I signed the paper. At this point, the entire thing is even a farce. The company can't decide if they want me around or if I'm a liability, so they basically dropped the leash entirely and are just playing nice, but I will finish the contract."

"Okay," I said. "How long do you have left with them? I don't know how PMC contracts work."

"Two more months," he said. "The terms of contracts tend to differ a lot. Plenty of contractors only work for six to nine months, plus internship and training."

"What's that?" I asked.

"When you join a force, they don't want useless idiots. So you get un-contracted training. Half of the time you're unpaid too. It depends on the company. Some do it for a week, others take it a lot more seriously."

I shrugged. "Alright man, if that's what you're like, then that's cool. What happens when someone on the other end of the contract fucks it up?"

He shook his head. "Then they're in breach of contract. A good contract will have consequences baked into it. There was a time where I couldn't actually do anything about that kind of thing, but I think that's past now."

Right, this guy was a little weirder than I'd initially thought. Why was it that every samurai I met was a hair shy of being a fucking nutjob? Why was I the only normal one?

It took twenty minutes or so for Tankette to get the food ready. There was some sort of rice-like thing, kinda beige-yellow, that she filled into some bowls, then veggies were tossed on top. Most of them looked normal, shit like carrots and such, but a few looked downright weird.

"Thanks," I said as I accepted a bowl. Princess gave me a look, then smiled and offered me some chicken that they'd cooked in a little pan with some sort of sweet-smelling sauce.

To be entirely honest, while I initially thought that this was a massive waste of time, I was reconsidering it now that I'd removed my helmet and could smell the food cooking.

I mean, there was some stink from the city, and there was a small mountain of burning antithesis corpses next to the wall, but the stir-fry's smell was stronger, and way better.

"What veggie is this?" I murmured so no one would hear as I raised a fork stabbed into something brown.

That is a non-terrestrial plant. Don't worry, it's safe for human consumption. It's actually a seed, though its texture is similar to modern potatoes.

I shrugged and took a bite. It was a little... tangy? It had the same kind of acidy taste that tomato sauce had, but without the same flavour. It wasn't bad though.

Honestly, as I scarfed through my bowl, I could see why Tankette was so into this. The food was warm and better than just about anything I'd eaten in recent memory, and it was nice to just stand around and eat. Even Hedgehog relaxed some.

Tankette seemed very proud of herself as she started packing things away. She put leftovers into little boxes and gave them to anyone who wanted some. Gomorrah, as the only person with a place to put stuff nearby, ended up taking most of the leftovers while Crackshot had seconds.

"Okay," I said before wiping my mouth clean with the back of my hand. "So... we're fed, everyone's gone to take a piss. I think we should get moving now. The longer we sit around here, the more aliens we're going to have to deal with. Tankette, Gomorrah and I are going to take the lead."

"And I," Gomorrah said.

"Yeah, I mentioned you," I replied. "Anyway, I think we're going to have to borrow a car or two from the army so that everyone can come along. It's too far to have you guys ride on a mech or on Tankette's tank."

"I can drive," Crackshot said. "I don't have a licence, but I know which pedal makes you go fast."

"I'll drive," Hedgehog cut in, leaving no room for arguments.

I nodded. Yeah, this was gonna go just fine... but holy crap, I really wanted a post-lunch nap.

***

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