Lus stepped into the kitchen and rubbed his hands together, his nerves buzzing with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

“I’m going to really impress everyone tonight,” he promised himself.

He had found frozen kechin meat while cleaning out one of the storage nitroboxes and decided that he wanted to take the time to make the Beginner’s Luck Soup properly.

Learning how to use the pasta roller had made the process easier and given him something to do for the last two nights, but he couldn’t just make pasta forever. He wasn’t sure how to get more recipes from his system, but he had a feeling that making this soup perfectly was the first step.

Pulling up the recipe, he scrolled down to the bottom and read through it again to make sure he remembered everything properly.

“I’ll do the pasta dough first, then cook the meat,” he murmured to himself. “Then the veggies. Oh, I should chop those first.”

Instead of using the frozen veggie mix, he had decided to use some of the fresh vegetables in the produce cupboard since they were starting to look a little questionable. He really needed to find time to chop all of them up for freezing.

Shrugging aside that thought for later, he pulled out ten large, rust-colored garoots and twelve sticks of slightly wilty, dark green slerry. He grabbed five white onnins as well.

Sliding out the largest cutting board, he looked over the vegetables. “Should I start with the onnins?” he wondered. He’d never actually cut up veggies before. He’d been using the frozen mix Chelf Wlnp prepared before his untimely death since he took on this position.

Lus pulled out the largest knife he felt comfortable with and set the first onnin on the cutting board. It had a papery wrapping that he was pretty sure he needed to remove, so he started with that.

The inside of the onnin was white and firm. As the pungent scent hit him, his eyes began to water.

“Oh, Suns,” he gasped. “That hurts!” He backed up, wiping at his eyes and looking around for something that might protect him, but he couldn’t see anything that looked helpful. Gritting his teeth and squinting, he stepped forward and began to chop the onnin up as quickly as he could.

When he finished the first, he took a short break, stepping away until his eyes had cleared. The second onnin wasn’t as bad, so he assumed he was adjusting to the scent.

The third onnin drove that hope away. Almost the moment he sliced into it, tears began streaming down his face. As he chopped, he had to take regular breaks to wipe his cheeks and eyes on the sleeve of his shirt so he could see well enough to avoid cutting his hands.

Finally, he slid the last onnin slices into a bowl and set it over by the stove. The pieces weren’t anywhere near even, but at least none of them were huge.

Next, he worked on the slerry sticks. They were easier. He rinsed them off and chopped off the leafy tops, then cut the sticks into small slices. It went quickly and he turned his attention to the garoots.

They were large and somewhat conical in shape with rough, rust colored surfaces. He rinsed the dirt off the outside, then frowned. He was pretty sure that people usually peeled garoots before eating them.

Thankfully, he had spent a few evenings peeling brown-skinned prootas for the previous chef, so he knew what a peeler looked like.

Digging through the drawer of random utensils, he found the familiar tool and carried it over to the garoots. They were easier to peel than prootas, so he finished quickly and set to work chopping them up.

Because of the conical shape, he had a hard time keeping the slices even. No matter how evenly he sliced the garoots, the slices at one end were many times larger in diameter than the tiny slices at the more pointed end.

He considered trying to chop them all into halves and quarters to make them more similar in size, but a glance at the clock quickly changed his mind.

“Time, time, time,” he muttered, scooping the uneven slices into a third bowl and carrying it to join the others.

He had taken the time to find the largest frying pan in the cupboard, which would hopefully speed up the process. Since he still had to cook the vegetables in batches, though, he decided to just cook them separately.

Lus had just poured some clear, golden elsha oil into the pan when he remembered that he needed to do the noodles.

Turning off the burner, he pulled out the largest pot and filled it with water. Once the water was heating, he turned his attention to the pasta dough.

Kneading the dough was almost relaxing, though it still made his arms ache. Once he had it all mixed, he broke off a chunk and carried it to the rolling press. He slid it through five times to get it thin enough, then carried it carefully back to the counter and cut it into noodles, which he tossed in the now boiling water.

While those boiled, he rolled out another chunk of dough, continuing in shifts until the last of the noodles were boiling.

“Now I can do the veggies,” he said, turning the heat back on under the frying pan. He waited a few minutes for the oil to heat, then dumped in the bowl of garoots. They sizzled and he stirred them with a wooden spatula.

He was so entranced by the slow darkening of the garoot slices that he nearly forgot his last batch of pasta. He glanced up at the still boiling pot next to him and gasped.

Lusac grabbed the pot-shaped colander and quickly scooped out the last of the noodles. He slid them into the large bowl with the rest, grabbing one off the top to taste. It burnt his tongue, but it wasn’t too mushy.

“Thank the Watcher,” he said, returning his attention to the garoots. He gave them a stir, flinching at the sight of the dark bottoms.

“Well, these are probably done,” he decided. He dumped them into the bowl on top of the noodles, then added some more oil and the sliced slerry to the pan.

The slerry cooked quickly, the dark green slices turning slightly translucent and soft. He added them to the bowl as well.

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Lus had saved the onnins for last, not wanting to deal with them any sooner than he had to. Now he glanced at them as he poured in more oil. “Please don’t make me cry,” he whispered, dumping the irregular white chunks into the pan.

They sizzled nicely and he began to stir them around. To his surprise, as they cooked, the pungent, unpleasant scent changed into something pleasant and fragrant.

“Watcher, that smells good.” He breathed in the scent and his brows furrowed in confusion. “How do these smell so good now?” He shook his head. Maybe he would never understand cooking.

When the onnins were done, he added them to the now almost overflowing bowl and glanced back at the recipe. “Right, the kechin,” he said, snapping his fingers.

The kechin meat was in the interbox, thawing. He pulled out the box of meat and unwrapped it, unsure what he was going to find. Unlike the ground gervin meat, the kechin meat was in large, pinkish-white chunks. He pulled a few out, wincing at how slimy they felt against his fingers.

Plopping them on the cutting board, he quickly sliced them into smaller, bite-sized pieces. He worked his way through the box, taking longer than he had hoped to get all of the meat chopped up.

When he finished, he had a bowl full of small, slimy meat bits and his hands were nearly numb from handling the still cold meat.

“I’ve got to cook it,” he reminded himself. He washed his hands quickly, scrubbing hard to get rid of the sticky, slimy feeling of the meat, then added oil to the pan again.

He used a large spoon to scoop bits of kechin into the pan so he didn’t have to keep washing his hands. As the meat cooked, he sprinkled on some salt and peppin, like the recipe instructed.

The kechin meat lost its pink hue and translucence as it cooked. When Lus finally decided it was done, it looked far more palatable.

“Cooking really does wonders for food,” he said thoughtfully, remembering the miracle of the onnins. Somehow, in all the work he’d done in the kitchen, he hadn’t really thought about how transformative cooking was. It had always just been busy and stressful and confusing.

“That must mean I’m getting better,” he whispered with a smile.

Of course, the world loved to humble him. No sooner had he spoken than the pot he had cooked the noodles in began to smoke.

“Oh Watcher,” he muttered. He’d completely forgotten to turn off the burner. Grabbing a pot holder, he quickly moved the large pot off the burner, hoping that he hadn’t ruined it. He left it on one of the unused corners of the stove to cool and returned his attention to the kechin meat.

While he was distracted, the meat had gone from a pleasant tan color to a darker color. He smelled the familiar, acrid smell of burnt food and shook his head in frustration as he quickly transferred the meat to yet another clean bowl.

He grabbed a piece and popped it in his mouth, wincing at the pain since it was still quite hot. He chewed for a minute, trying to get his burnt taste buds to pick up the flavor, then smiled in relief. He could vaguely taste a hint of the burnt-ness, but it wasn’t too noticeable.

Adding more oil to the pan, Lusac started on the next batch of kechin. This one went more smoothly since he didn’t get distracted at the end. The final batch of kechin was a little bigger than he expected, but when he’d scooped as much as the two previous batches into the pan, the amount left in the bowl seemed too small to cook on its own, so he just dumped it in.

With so much meat, it took a while to get it all cooked and he lost a few pieces each time he stirred with too much energy.

“Stir softly,” he reminded himself after losing his fourth piece of meat.

“Who are you talking to?”

He whirled around with a muttered oath and found Dasy-Jonil looking at him with a confused look on her scaly, purple face.

“Uh, hi- hi there,” he stuttered awkwardly, giving a nervous laugh.

She just widened her eyes, waiting for him to answer.

“I was just… talking to myself.” His voice dropped to a near-whisper, but she still managed to hear him.

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of. I do that all the time!” She smiled and slid past him. “Sorry to disturb your kitchen. I just remembered that I need to grab something out of the nitrobox to thaw for lunch prep tomorrow.”

“Oh, no worries. I’m just, uh, yeah.” He turned back to the kechin meat and gave it a stir, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Thank the Suns it was Dasy-Jonil. He knew she wouldn’t tease him about it or spread rumors, but he needed to be more careful. If Lbrvr, the breakfast cook, caught him talking to himself, he’d never be able to show his face above deck again.

Dasy-Jonil finished moving things and said goodbye, slipping out as silently as she’d come in. Lus sighed in relief at being alone again and noted that the kechin meat finally looked done.

With the noodles, meat, and vegetables all cooked and ready to go, all he had left to do was make the broth.

His heart sank as he realized that he hadn’t actually checked to make sure that he had kechin broth powder. He knew there wasn’t any canned kechin broth from the reorganization of the canned foods that he’d done just that morning as part of his “light duty” from his shoulder injury..

Heading to the spices cupboard, he opened it and glanced in hopefully. It wasn’t at the front, but that didn’t mean anything. There were so many spices in here, Lus hadn’t ever actually looked at all of them.

“Looks like today’s the day,” he said, trying to imbue his voice with excitement he didn’t feel. He had actually been hoping to go through the spices someday, just to see what all he had to work with, but having to do it on a tight schedule took all the fun out of the task.

He began pulling out bottles one by one, checking the names of the ones he didn’t recognize. Lusac wasn’t even sure what kechin broth powder looked like, so he couldn’t leave anything unfamiliar unread.

He’d made it through half the cupboard when he finally found a dusty container full of yellowish powder that was labeled Powdered kechin Broth.

“Ha!” he cried, jumping up and carrying it over to the autopot. He quickly read the instructions on the container and found that it used the same measurements as gervin broth powder. He smiled and quickly measured out the water and powdered broth into the autopot.

While it came to a boil, he measured in the pasil and harvic. By the time the liquid was boiling, the entire kitchen smelled fragrant.

Lus smiled at the boiling golden liquid flecked with green herbs. He grabbed his giant bowl of noodles and vegetables and poured it in, hissing in pain as some of the broth splashed onto his hands.

Drying them on the giant apron, he grabbed the bowl of meat and added it to the autopot. With everything in, he pulled out the ladle and gave it a stir.

In a kitchen full of the delicious smell of soup, standing over the pot, he couldn’t keep a wide grin off his face. In spite of the setbacks, he’d done it. He’d made soup!

[Cooking Complete]

[XP Gained: 100]

“Ha! I did get more for cooking it right,” he said, pumping his fist in the air. His celebration was interrupted by the sound of voices in the dining room.

“Oh, right!” He had nearly forgotten that he still had to actually move the soup out. He grabbed the autopot and pushed it out to the serving table, then rushed back in for bowls and spoons.

By the time he returned with the dishes, everyone had lined up by the soup.

“Soup again?” Relf, one of the other Humans, called from back in the line.

Vlqtrn, the Kremel next to him, smacked him in the back of the head. “Shut up! It’s better than what he used to make.”

Lus smiled in relief, glad that the mutterings of the crew seemed more positive than negative. Instead of standing by the serving table and watching everyone take their food, Lus made his way to the back of the line.

He tried to avoid looking around too much, not wanting to be disappointed if the crew wasn’t as excited about his soup as he was. Still, when he did find his eyes wandering, he saw only happy faces, which was a very good sign.

Finally, his turn arrived. He took a generous serving of soup and headed to an empty table near the back of the large dining room.

Sitting, he grabbed his spoon and scooped a bite into his mouth. It tasted delicious! If home had a taste, this would be it, he thought to himself as he savored the flavors dancing around his mouth. He could hardly believe that he had made this!

“I am a cook,” he whispered happily before shoving in another large bite.