We left the battlefield behind and set a course for the Regular Army Garrison Base.
The Sperm Whale wasn't handling like her usual self.
"...Whoops. The inertia’s getting the better of me."
"Thruster output has dropped, and there is a lag in attitude control. Master, I recommend steering with caution."
I nodded at Lucia’s warning.
I threw the control stick, but there was a distinct delay before the bow began its turn. Acceleration was just as sluggish; it felt like trying to navigate through a swamp.
It was understandable, though. The cargo room was packed to the gills with the engine block, main gun base, and high-density armor plating we’d stripped from the cruiser Aegis.
We were right at the edge of our load limit—no, according to the catalog specs, we were probably a bit over.
"This girl is way too full. She’s a whale that’s eaten so much she can’t move."
"That just means we’ll make that much more money, right? That’s what you call a good problem to have."
Rick laughed beside me.
He was right. All this extra weight would eventually be converted into credits. When I thought of it that way, even the ship’s ponderous response felt somewhat endearing.
"Cargo stability is optimal. I have already mitigated the risks associated with shifts in the center of gravity," Lucia added, offering her support.
I engaged the autopilot. We still had a bit of time before our arrival.
"In that case, shall we eat? My treat, as thanks for earlier."
Rick pulled several silver packages out of a container at his feet. They were labeled High-Nutritional Combat Ration Type-S.
"Cross-referencing," Lucia said. "These are supplies exclusively issued to the elite units of the Regular Army. Distribution to civilian markets is strictly prohibited, and given the military’s rigid discipline, leakages are rare. On the black market, these trade for no less than fifty times the price of a standard ration."
Lucia calculated the market value instantly. This was a literal high-grade item, a far cry from the "humanitarian aid" canned cartridges I’d scavenged in the sewers.
Rick insisted that because the claim of balancing flavor and nutrition came from the higher-ups who actually ate real food, they were nothing like those "Tasty Cubes." I still couldn't wrap my head around his argument that the cubes were fine but "just lacked the right mouthfeel," though.
"Alright, let's head to the rest area."
Three silver packs were lined up on the table. Only identification codes were printed on the outside; nothing indicated what was actually inside.
"...It doesn't say what they are?" Mina asked.
"Nope. On the battlefield, the only thing you have to look forward to is eating. They say they include a 'gacha element' to keep the soldiers' morale up since you never know what you're gonna get."
"At least, that’s the PR version," Rick added. "The truth is it simplifies inventory management. If they let people choose the menu, only the popular ones would run out, right? So they make all the boxes the same and force a random distribution."
"I see. That’s rational."
We looked at each other. It was time for the grand unveiling.
"Performing a probabilistic estimation," Lucia began. "Based on the production lot numbers, there is a forty percent chance of this being Pattern B, the 'Western Set'—"
"Lucia, no spoilers. You’re ruining the fun."
I cut her off and tore the seal open with a sharp snap. Inside was a main course pouch, a side dish can, crackers, a tube of paste, powdered drink mix, and even a piece of post-meal gum. It was a complete full course. In a world where "Tasty Cubes" were the standard diet, this variety was a meal fit for royalty.
"I got... 'Demiglace Salisbury Steak.' That’s a winner."
"I have 'Chicken and Bean Tomato Stew.' ...It looks delicious," Mina said.
"Ugh, I got the 'Super Spicy Seafood Curry'...? Again?" Rick’s shoulders slumped. Apparently, he’d pulled the dud.
"Alright, time to heat these up... Wait, there aren't any heating agents."
I searched the packaging, but I couldn't find a single chemical heat pack. I’d expected modern rations to get piping hot just by adding water.
"Ah, the heating elements were cut from the Type-S to save weight. The assumption is that you're eating them on a ship or at a base anyway. If you're on the front lines, you just torch 'em with a burner or warm 'em up with the engine exhaust."
"I see. Fortunately, we have something better."
I grinned and led them to the kitchen. Sitting there was the junk-rigged high-power stove Mina and I had built.
"We’ll put the pouches in a water bath. The crackers get a light toast to bring out the aroma. And the powdered drink... we’ll make that with water that's actually been through a purifier."
A few minutes later, the preserved rations were transformed into a proper, steaming "meal."
"Let's eat."
I sank my fork into the Salisbury steak. It was tender—not the uniform, bouncy elasticity of a Tasty Cube. I could actually feel the individual fibers of the meat pulling apart. As I took a bite, the rich flavor of the demiglace sauce spread across my tongue. It was a bit salty, but that was likely for the sake of soldiers who needed the sodium and calories.
Most importantly, it tasted like meat.
"This is great...!"
"Yeah! This tomato stew has a real acidity to it! And look at this." Mina stared intently at the stew on her spoon. It contained beans simmered until soft and tiny fragments of vegetables. They were likely reconstituted from freeze-dried stock; the shapes were distorted and the texture was mushy, but they were undeniably vegetables.
"Actual pieces of vegetables. Not a paste, but solid vegetables..." Mina tentatively brought the spoon to her mouth. The soft beans melted on her tongue, and the simmered vegetables slid down her throat along with the savory tomato sauce.
"...Amazing. The flavor changes as I chew. The taste of the beans and the vegetables mix together..."
For her, meals had always been uniform pastes or hard blocks. The fact that multiple ingredients were combined—each asserting its own texture and flavor while forming a single dish—was a revelation. Even if it was just a processed military ration.
"Heh... Just heating it up and putting it on a plate makes a hell of a difference." Rick took a bite of his curry, his eyes widening. "I usually just sucked this cold out of the tube or smeared it on a cracker. So this is what a 'meal' is supposed to be."
"Yeah. Cutting corners on prep is an insult to the ingredients."
I smeared the included cheese paste on a cracker, topped it with some Salisbury steak sauce, and took a bite. The harmony of the crunchy texture and the rich flavor was perfect.
Outside the window lay a sea of stars. In the cargo bay sat a mountain of loot. And on the table was a warm meal.
Not bad. Not bad at all. This was the best kind of voyage.
"...Alright, work starts once we finish eating. When we hit the base, we’ve got a massive unloading job and negotiations ahead of us."
"You bet! Leave it to me. Even the stubborn old farts in the Logistics Department will be pushovers if I bring this Type-S along as a bribe." Rick tapped the ration box boastfully.
"You said it was your treat, but what happened to giving us the whole stash?" I teased.
Rick shrugged and laughed. "Well, the ones I use as bargaining chips are in a separate stomach! It hurts my soul that the Captain's share will decrease, but I'll sell the rest high enough to make up for it, so forgive me!"
"You're a talkative pilot. Maybe I should fire you."
"Whoops, I'm pretty sure I turned down the job offer!"
We laughed together as we polished off the rest of our food. The bloated Sperm Whale continued toward the port, wobbling slightly under its heavy burden.
I initially started with those military cans out of desperation, so I was wondering how to top them. If you found this interesting and are looking forward to the next part, please hit the "★" button! Akito's dinner tomorrow might get a little upgrade because of it. Thank you!