The day after indulging in "refined cuisine" at the colony’s high-end restaurant, we were back aboard the Sperm Whale, facing a much more grounded reality.
"…Hey, Akito. Can I ask you something?"
Mina, now back in her work clothes, tilted her head while weighing a tool in one hand.
"You’re so obsessed with 'delicious food,' so why doesn't this ship have a halfway decent kitchen?"
She’d struck a nerve. I let out a heavy sigh, my eyes fixed on the estimate blinking on my terminal.
"It’s not like I didn't want one. But there’s no point in installing some flimsy, half-baked setup. If I’m going to do it, I need professional-grade heat and a perfect ventilation system. The problem is, this ship’s architecture won't allow it."
I pulled up the ship’s internal schematics to illustrate my point.
"See this? The compartment blocks on this ship are built to military standards for heavy vessels. You can't just plug in a civilian kitchen module. The plumbing, the voltage—the specs are worlds apart. Then there’s the integration with the life support and air conditioning. When I tried to get a quote for a custom job from a contractor..."
I turned the terminal toward Mina. The figure displayed was 55,000,000 Credits.
"F-Fifty-five million...!?"
"It was all I could do just to get hot water running from the taps. Besides, I didn't exactly have that kind of cash lying around."
The path to a commercial kitchen was steep. As I slumped in dejection, Mina blinked at me, looking genuinely puzzled.
"…It’s your ship, isn't it?"
"Huh?"
"This ship belongs to you, right, Akito? So why do you have to follow the contractor’s standards? Can’t you just ignore the rules, kit-bash something together, and put in a small kitchen anyway?"
Mina said it so casually that I couldn't help but look up.
"Kit-bash? Do you have any idea how complex the exhaust ducting would be? Or the heat sources? Plumbing work isn't free, either."
"It’s only expensive because you’re trying to use certified, standardized parts. If we go down to the Scrapyard, we can find commercial heat exchangers or old burners from restaurants that went out of business. We just grab those and draw power directly from the ship’s main power pipes. For the exhaust... we might be able to vent it by reversing the sub-thruster cooling ducts."
Mina began muttering to herself, her eyes tracing the ship’s exposed pipes. It looked as though she could already see the finished blueprints in her mind.
"…Mina. Can you actually pull that off?"
"It’s doable. It’ll look like hell, and there’s definitely no warranty. ……You want to try?"
I swallowed hard. It might cause a massive headache if I ever tried to get a formal inspection, but this was my ship. There was no room for hesitation.
"You’re on. Let's go, Mina—we’re heading to the Junk Street for supplies!"
The next three days were a literal war.
Deep in the colony’s bottom layer, Mina’s eye for scrap proved invaluable. From mountains of twisted metal, she unearthed one treasure after another: still-functional burner units, a battered but sturdy sink, and powerful ventilation fans that just needed a little grease.
We hauled the junk back into the Sperm Whale’s living quarters and got to work—cutting, welding, and wiring.
Sparks showered the deck, and the rhythmic clang of metal echoed through the halls.
"Akito, hold that side down! The stove isn't level yet!"
"On it! ……Hey, are you sure about this pipe? It’s a direct tap into the main power line!"
"I’m throttling it with a valve, so it’s fine. I guarantee you'll have all the heat you need."
Even Lucia was drafted into the effort, assisting with the precision welding.
By the night of the third day, "it" was finally finished.
"…Done," Mina said, wiping a streak of soot from her face with a satisfied nod.
Standing before us was a kitchen so heavily patched together that even Dr. Frankenstein would have fled in terror. The plumbing was exposed, the stove was a modified industrial burner, and the sink had been salvaged from some factory's chemical wash station.
To put it politely, it was an eyesore. But...
Click, WHOOSH!
When I turned the dial, a roar of pale blue flame erupted from the burner.
The sheer heat was staggering—on a completely different level than any household stove. When I toggled the ventilation fan, it began sucking air with a low, powerful drone. With this, I wouldn't have to worry about the smoke from a heavy sear.
"…I love it."
I ran a hand over the stove’s rugged handle. It was brutal, unrefined, and perfectly suited for my ship.
"There’s a world of difference between 'having it' and 'not.' Compared to only having a kettle, this is a revolution."
"Yeah. And the materials only cost about twenty thousand credits total."
"Twenty thousand!? Mina, you’re a genius."
A fifty-five-million-credit estimate had been replaced by twenty thousand credits and three days of hard labor. I reached out and ruffled Mina’s hair—being careful to avoid her rat ears. She grumbled for me to "stop it," but she didn't look like she actually hated the praise.
"Thanks, Mina. I can finally cook a real meal now."
"…Don’t mention it. I want to eat something good, too."
I looked around my new kitchen and clenched my fist. I’d finally reached the starting line. But my ambitions didn't stop here.
"Mind you, this is just temporary. I’m going to earn enough that, one day, I’ll install a proper, high-end kitchen module."
"…You’re still on about that? This one works just fine."
"Don’t be ridiculous. A professional kitchen surrounded by gleaming stainless steel and functional beauty—that is the dream of every chef."
I stared into the distance as I spoke with religious fervor. The fifty-five-million-credit dream hadn't died; if anything, building this "Junk Kitchen" had only made the vision clearer.
Now, I wanted to cook something to commemorate the occasion, but...
"…Wait a second."
"What's wrong?"
"I don't actually have any ingredients."
I’d been so focused on the construction that the refrigerator was still empty. All I had on hand was my stock of instant rations. My high-powered industrial burner would probably cry if its first job was just boiling water for cup noodles.
"…Well, I’m exhausted anyway, and I really should clear out the old stock."
"What about delivery? I’ve heard people talk about it, but I’ve never tried it."
Delivery. I hadn't even considered that.
This wasn't some frontier battlefield; it was a massive commercial hub. There had to be more than just sterilized high-end food and scammy hot dogs. There were probably legendary back-alley shops and hidden gems scattered throughout the colony. If I looked hard enough, I might find a meal that could actually satisfy me.
"Good idea. Let's do it. Let’s search the network and see what they've got."
We looked at each other and laughed.
The dream kitchen was complete. Now, I just had to fill it. I had a feeling the dining table of the Sperm Whale was about to get a lot more interesting.