The mess hall was lively, with the earlier celebratory mood carrying over into the midday meal. Most of the crew had gathered for lunch, filling the space with conversation and laughter. The long tables were nearly full, occupied by members of the MechHarvest Salvage Corps enjoying a well-deserved meal. The mingled aromas of freshly cooked food—a far cry from the basic oats and supplements they were used to just a few months ago—added to the warmth of the room.
Troy Hayes was at his usual spot near the center of the room, animatedly recounting his latest triumph to anyone who would listen. He had a plate piled high with a colorful mix of vegetables, real meat—none of that protein substitute—and a generous serving of mashed potatoes. His enthusiasm was contagious, and a small group had gathered around him, hanging on his every word.
“...and then, just as that pirate thought he had me cornered, I swung around and let him have it! Didn’t know what hit him!” Troy grinned broadly, spearing a chunk of steak with his fork. “Gotta say, though, this is almost better than the victory. We’re eating like kings now!”
At the end of the table, Nina Brown rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a smile. “You know, Troy, I think you enjoy the storytelling more than the missions themselves.”
“Maybe,” Troy conceded with a wink, “but a good story deserves to be told. Besides, what’s the point of all this if we can’t enjoy it, right?”
Across from him, Hannah Foster, captain of the Vedette, nodded in agreement. “He’s got a point. We’ve come a long way from the days of nutrient bars and recycled coffee. This,” she said, gesturing to her plate, “is proof that we’re doing something right.”
Emily Turner, one of the Karnov’s crew members, was a few seats down, eyeing a small pile of apples in the middle of the table. “I still can’t believe we have fresh fruit. Actual, honest-to-god apples. I’m not sure whether to eat one or save it as a keepsake.”
Luis Delgado, the Manticore’s driver, chuckled as he grabbed an apple and took a hearty bite. “You’d better eat it before someone else does. Nothing lasts long in this place.”
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Further down the table, Marcus Black sat quietly, eating with the same precision he brought to every mission. His plate was less full than Troy’s, but he still appreciated the variety of flavors—a far cry from the bland rations they’d endured for so long. He glanced over at Sarah Greene, who was picking through her salad with a thoughtful expression.
“Something on your mind?” Marcus asked, breaking his usual silence.
Sarah looked up, a small smile playing on her lips. “Just thinking about how far we’ve come. It wasn’t that long ago we were scraping by, and now... look at this.” She waved her fork at the bustling room. “It’s more than just the food. It’s the morale, the energy. We’re stronger as a team because of it.”
Marcus nodded, considering her words. “True. But we can’t get complacent. This is good, but it’s still temporary. We have to keep pushing forward.”
“I know,” Sarah agreed, “but it’s important to take these moments when we can. Otherwise, what are we fighting for?”
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of metal clattering on the floor. A young tech, one of Ethan Miller’s protégés, had accidentally knocked over a tray, scattering utensils across the mess hall. He blushed furiously as several people turned to look, but Troy was quick to defuse the situation.
“Hey, no harm done!” Troy called out, rising from his seat. He walked over to the flustered tech and helped him pick up the scattered utensils. “First rule of the mess hall: what happens here stays here. Second rule: if you drop it, you eat it,” he added with a grin.
The tech laughed nervously, grateful for Troy’s easygoing nature. “Thanks, Troy. I’ll remember that.”
“Good man,” Troy said, clapping him on the back before returning to his seat. “Now, where was I?”
As the conversations resumed, the mess hall settled back into its usual rhythm—a microcosm of the mercenary life. Hard work, moments of levity, and the bonds formed over shared meals and experiences. For now, the crew was content, enjoying the fruits of their labor, both literally and figuratively.