Our "Abura Soba" missionary work in the lower sector complete, we returned to the Sperm Whale.
I felt a pleasant sense of fatigue, but there was no time to rest. The "ultimate catch" was still enthroned in the kitchen, waiting for us. There was no way we could move on without dealing with it first.
"President! The dismantling tools are ready!"
Mina emerged from the cargo room, her jumpsuits stained with oil. The wagon she dragged behind her was loaded with ferocious-looking equipment that could hardly be called cooking utensils.
The first was a massive knife whose tip vibrated minutely when powered on—a "High-frequency Vibration Blade." It looked like a cross between a gyuto and a slicing knife; if properly tuned, it would likely have been a top-tier weapon.
The second was an "Internal Pressure Drain Unit," which featured a pipe resembling a thick injection needle. It was essentially a very high-powered pump.
"Alright. The cast is assembled."
I didn't bother rolling up chef’s sleeves. Instead, I stood before the eighty-centimeter-wide eyeball in my pilot suit. Since the suit was designed for combat, it was the most stain-resistant thing I owned. I felt less like a chef and more like a surgeon performing a high-stakes experiment.
"Lucia, preheat the steam oven."
"Settings complete. Internal temperature fifty-five degrees, humidity one hundred percent. Preparing for the first stage."
"Mina, connect the drain unit. Don't let it explode."
"Leave it to me! Synchronizing internal pressure sensors... starting suction!"
Mina thrust the drain into the hole on the side of the eyeball where the optic nerve had once been. With a low, mechanical hum, liquid began to fill a transparent tank. This was the "Vitreous Humor," the high-density gel filling the eye's interior. It was surprisingly clear and carried a faintly sweet aroma.
"Component analysis complete," Lucia reported. "It is a high-purity aqueous amino acid solution containing collagen precursors. This alone would make an exquisite soup."
I nodded. As the internal pressure dropped, the eyeball, which had been stretched taut, began to slacken. Now the real work began.
"Scalpel."
"You mean this?" Mina asked, handing me the vibration blade.
I took it with a silent apology; I’d just really wanted to say the line.
When I flipped the switch, a high-pitched buzz like a mosquito's whine hummed through my hand. I applied the blade to the outer circumference of the eyeball, intending to split it right down the middle. The outer shell was tough enough to repel any normal kitchen knife, but the vibration blade sliced through it as silently as if it were tofu. I moved the blade at the minimum speed necessary to avoid generating friction heat, ensuring the meat wouldn't be seared.
Pop.
The eyeball split into halves, revealing a massive crystalline lens, the ciliary muscles supporting it, and a beautiful layer of gelatinous material.
"Whoa... It's grotesque, but kind of beautiful..." Emulgand whispered, peering in timidly.
The crystalline lens had already been promised to the Professor as experimental material. Come to think of it, he was a professor of bioengineering. My interest lay in the meat and gelatin surrounding it.
I carved the eye muscles into blocks and marinated them along with the gelatin in a sauce made from "Bedrock Mushroom" dashi, pseudo-soy sauce, synthetic alcohol, and synthetic sugar. I placed the mixture into an extra-large vacuum bag Mina had prepared and extracted the air.
"Alright. Into the oven!"
I slid the heavy pack onto the shelf of the commercial steam convection oven.
"First stage: low-temperature steam for odor removal and protein fixation. Afterward, the unit will transition to main heating at eighty-five degrees. Total time until completion: thirty-eight hours."
Lucia operated the panel and set the timer. A quiet hum filled the room.
"It’s going to be a long haul."
Thirty-eight hours. A full day and a half. It was far too long to simply sit around the ship.
"...Alright. Everyone is free to do as they please while it simmers. I think I'll make use of the 'rights' I've obtained."
I pulled the card key I’d received from "The Spider" out of my pocket. It granted "Top Priority Trading Rights" for the Oasis black market. With this, I could enter members-only areas forbidden to the public.
The deepest part of Oasis was a members-only black market so quiet it made the bustle of the surface feel like a hallucination. Lined up in the stalls were rare materials that never saw official trade routes, relics of the old era, and various items that couldn't be brought into the light of day.
I was peering into the showcase of a junk shop with the Professor when a strange data slate caught my eye.
"...What's this? 'Undefined Structure Generation Protocol'?"
I tilted my head in confusion, prompting Professor Stein to lean in. "Ho," he muttered. "Is that a 'Blank Slate'? That’s a developer's kit for a Replicator. Normally, only the military or certain corporations possess those."
"For developers?"
"Yes. It's a contraband item that allows you to configure a Replicator's output from scratch. Depending on how you program it, you could produce practically anything."
An electric current seemed to run through my brain. Configure it from scratch.
That meant that instead of the "uniform sponge" that synthetic starch usually became, I could manipulate the molecular bonds and structure to create powders with the properties of wheat flour or potato starch.
"...You've got to be kidding me. With this... can I actually make them? Substitutes for wheat flour and potato starch?"
The biggest problem that had plagued my cooking until now was the absence of "flour." Without binders, Salisbury steaks wouldn't hold their shape, I couldn't make batter for fried foods, and I was forced to rely on 100% buckwheat for noodles. Wheat flour made this way might lack the specific aroma of genuine wheat, but it would still be a total game-changer.
"Hmm. I am not familiar with the ingredients 'wheat flour' or 'potato starch' myself, but..." The Professor stroked his chin analytically. "The stickiness and texture you seek likely stem from the 'non-uniformity' of grain flours produced via traditional methods from genuine crops. Those physical characteristics exist precisely because the particle sizes and crystalline structures are irregular."
He continued, "A standard Replicator performs perfectly uniform substance refinement, which is why it struggles. Mechanical engineering isn't my specialty, but with significant modifications, it might be possible."
"So there's... a chance?"
"However, realizing that would require extremely complex adjustments. You would need a mechanic to modify the Replicator and a system engineer to handle the Blank Slate settings."
Mina could handle the mechanics. The problem was the system engineer.
"...Would Varna work? She’s a genius."
I pictured the "Witch of Mechanics."
"Her expertise is strictly limited to sensors and observation data," the Professor said, shrugging. "Techne Prime is a research colony specializing in hardware."
"...In other words, we’re short on talent."
I sighed. I had found a treasure map, but I didn't have a navigator to read it.
"Oh well. I'll buy it anyway. It'll be useful eventually."
I shelled out a hefty sum from my dwindling funds to secure the slate. It was a necessary investment. I prayed that one day, I would meet an engineer who could help me fill in this blank recipe.
By the time we returned to the ship, the timer on the steam oven had only a few hours left. The kitchen was thick with the sweet, heavy aroma of gelatin.
"Welcome back, President! Find anything good?" Mina asked, running over to meet us.
"Yeah. I can't use it yet, but I've obtained a hell of a treasure map."
I stowed the Blank Slate in a hidden container in the captain's quarters where scans couldn't reach, given that it was contraband. With this, the path to "Space KATSU-DON" and "Tempura" might finally be open.
But that was a story for the future. For now, I had to finish the "big catch" in front of me.
The steam oven let out a quiet chime, signaling the end of its thirty-eight-hour cycle. I opened the door. Steam billowed out, carrying an aroma of condensed umami unlike anything I had ever experienced.
First, we would eat this. It would be the nourishment we needed for the long road ahead.
The Professor didn’t lift a finger to stop me from buying the contraband. He probably thought it was just as interesting as I did.