Page 114 of Commander’s Mate

No alarms.

No missing coordinates.

No one needed a policy.

I wanted one hour where our largest problem was lunch.

Zared scraped the blackened sandwich into a disposal unit.

“It was your instruction.”

“My instruction was medium heat.”

“This is medium.”

“For a fusion reactor?”

He frowned at the control.

“Uatu cooking temperatures are different.”

“Clearly.”

“You should have specified.”

“I assumed you had met food before.”

“I have.”

“Successfully?”

His eyes narrowed.

I smiled.

Dangerous.

He put another piece of not-bread in the pan.

This time he lowered the heat.

He was learning.

I cut the alien cheese.

It had the consistency of mozzarella and the color of pale orange clay.

“You know what’s weird?”

“Many things.”

“I used to hate cooking.”

“That is not strange.”

“I mean I hated having to cook.”

He looked at me.