The officers' mess was situated in the heart of the Regular Army base, Fort Vulcan.
Unlike the standard Mess Hall used by the rank-and-file, this place featured a spacious layout and soft, subdued lighting. We claimed a window-side table and sat face-to-face with the meal that had just been served.
"Thank you for waiting, sir. This is the Special Sirloin Steak Set."
A serving robot placed the plates down with a respectful bow.
Ssssssssss!
A thick slab of meat hissed atop a heated iron plate. The sides appeared to be mashed potatoes and green beans. Visually, it was perfect. The unnatural, plasticky sheen common to synthetic meat had been suppressed, replaced by an appetizing char.
"Let’s eat," I said.
I pressed my knife into the meat, carved off a bite-sized piece, and popped it into my mouth.
...Hmm.
Not bad.
It certainly wasn't "high-grade rubber." The texture was right—the fibers actually broke apart—and "meat juice," which was really just a clever seasoning liquid, overflowed with every chew.
Serving it on a scorching iron plate was likely a tactical move to mask the shortcomings of synthetic meat. I could feel the kitchen's pride; they were clearly doing their best to provide a "decent meal" despite a limited budget and processed materials.
"...But it's kind of ordinary," Mina muttered, her fork still clamped between her teeth as she gave her honest assessment.
She was right. It was ordinary.
It was the optimal solution for nutritional balance and cost-performance—an average score that anyone would call "fairly tasty." However, our palates had already become a bit too spoiled.
"After having that S-ration earlier, the punch feels a bit weak," I admitted.
We had eaten that elite unit ration just before this. That was food designed to inspire soldiers in the extreme conditions of a battlefield; it ignored costs to concentrate umami and calories into a single punch. Compared to that, this steak was far too much of a model student.
It was a controlled taste. A peaceful taste. But what I was looking for was something more... something that shook the soul.
"...Shall we?" I asked.
"Are we really doing it?" Mina replied.
"Yeah. If I leave it like this, I'll have indigestion."
I reached into my pocket and pulled out two small bottles: the Soy Sauce-style Seasoning Liquid and the Dried Garlic Chips I had scavenged at the Hephaestus market.
I took advantage of the lingering heat on the iron plate. I sprinkled the garlic chips over the meat and drizzled the special sauce over it in one quick motion.
Sshhhhhhhwwaaaaaa!!
The liquid hit the plate with an explosive hiss, sending a cloud of steam billowing upward. In an instant, the atmosphere of the refined, elegant officers' mess was utterly transformed.
The savory, toasted scent of charred soy sauce. The aggressive, stimulating aroma of garlic. The complex profile of spices. They fused together, overwhelming the ventilation system's capacity and diffusing through the entire room.
"""?!"""
The officers dining nearby all snapped their heads toward us at once, their noses twitching. Their instincts, bored by polite synthetic meals, reacted instantly to this "vulgar but overwhelmingly delicious-looking" scent. A buzz began to stir throughout the dining area.
"...Mmm. This... what on earth is..."
A shadow fell over our table. Looking up, I saw an elegant, silver-haired gentleman standing there. He wasn't in uniform, wearing a well-tailored suit instead, but an unmistakable dignity radiated from his bearing.
He stared at my iron plate as if he were gazing upon a long-lost treasure.
"Pardon me... but that scent. Is it perhaps 'Shoyu'?"
"Yeah. Well, a knockoff made by messing around with substitutes," I replied.
"A knockoff? Certainly not. That fragrance, that charred aroma... it brings back memories of the 'Teppanyaki' I once tasted in the High Sector. It's like a forgotten memory is being resurrected."
The old gentleman gulped, looking as though he were swallowing his pride along with his saliva.
"If you wouldn't mind... could I have just one bite of that sauce? Of course, I will compensate you for the trouble."
"I don't mind. Go ahead."
I coated a slice of steak in the sauce, moved it to a small side plate, and offered it to him. The old gentleman's hand trembled slightly as he brought it to his mouth. He chewed, closed his eyes, and let out a long, deep breath.
"...Exquisite. Every cell in my body is rejoicing. This is it—this 'energy' is exactly what I have been seeking."
He opened his eyes, looking at me with an expression of profound emotion.
"Are you a chef?"
"No, just a passing mercenary. I only fly so I can find good food."
"A mercenary... I see. So you're the ones who salvaged the Aegis..."
The gentleman nodded, seemingly satisfied, and produced a business card from his pocket.
Base Commander, Victor Hound.
...He was the highest-ranking officer on the base.
Crap. Was complaining about the official food right in front of the big boss a bad move?
"I'll be blunt," the Commander said, ignoring my internal panic. He lowered his voice and glanced around to ensure we weren't being overheard. "There is a job I wish to request of you."
"A job?"
"A matter that cannot be handled through official channels. However, I believe I can entrust it to someone like you—someone with a true obsession for 'food' and the skills to back it up."
"What are the details?"
"An investigation of a certain planet. There was an Experimental Agricultural Plant there, terraformed with the goal of becoming a 'Paradise of Food.' It was eventually abandoned... but the periodic signal from the facility has recently ceased."
Paradise of Food. Experimental farm.
Mina, Lucia, and I all traded looks.
"The signal stopped?" I asked.
"Yes. It was an automated pulse that should have continued as long as the management system was operational. For it to vanish means the system was either physically destroyed or suffered a catastrophic failure."
I see. This wasn't just a simple broken transmitter. Something was happening in a place that was supposed to be empty. It smelled like trouble—but it also smelled like opportunity.
"The reward is 30 million credits. Furthermore, I will grant you priority ownership rights for any materials recovered on-site—and that includes ingredients and seeds."
Thirty million. Combined with our current savings, that would put us right at the 50 million mark. Plus, priority rights for actual food.
There wasn't a single reason to say no.
"...I'm in."
I smirked and tossed the final piece of steak into my mouth. The umami of the charred soy sauce and meat ignited a fire in my gut, fueling my drive for the next adventure.
"Let’s hear the details, Commander."
The military is an excellent catalyst for plot progression. Though, bringing your own seasoning to a mess hall is usually poor manners!
If you enjoyed this chapter and are looking forward to the next, please hit the "★" button! It might just help Akito's dinner get another upgrade tomorrow. Thank you!