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Aeryn spit her 'chicken noodle soup' into the central chamber’s waist receptacle.
“I told you it would taste awful,” she said, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Oh come on, just because the ingredients aren’t there doesn’t mean it won’t work,” John blew on his bowl. It was very hot, and while the steam didn’t smell like any chicken noodle soup he’d ever had, he was certain it would work.
“You are going to kill Zhaan faster if you feed this to her.” Aeryn scowled at her bowl.
“Chicken noodle soup is the ultimate comfort food on Earth. This will be just fine,” said John, but when he prodded his soup with a utensil, he found the texture of his soup had altered completely. “Ugh, maybe it is too mushy.”
“I thought it was meant to be congealed. That's what happens when you mix xlantic powder with water and set it in the starlight. It reacts to radiation.”
“Well how was I supposed to know that Aeryn? The xlantic powder was supposed to stand in for the chicken stock. Also it’s not like we always have this much starlight on the ship.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you Crichton, I wish we had this chicken plant in the Outer Territories so we could see what the fuss is all about.”
“I’ve told you, chickens aren’t plants, they’re-“
Stark entered the central chamber in his usual nervous fashion. “Oh, am I interrupting anything?”
John gave Aeryn one last look before pouring his own bowl of mush into the wast receptacle as well, “No you’re not missing a thing, buddy.”
“You shouldn’t waste food like that, Crichton.”
“It wasn’t food, don’t worry,” said Aeryn.
“We got a whole pot of it if you want some,” said John, clanging the lid of the pot on the cooking range with his eating utensil.
“He was trying to make a healing beverage for Zhaan,” said Aeryn.
“Well that was very thoughtful of you,” Stark lifted the pot lid and sniffed at the contents inside. “The star radiation is a thoughtful touch but I don’t think that’s how she ingests it.”
“I wasn’t trying to make star mush, I was trying to make my mom’s chicken noodle soup!”
“Oh one of your Earp dishes,” sighed Stark, before taking Aeryn’s empty bowl and serving himself.
“Stark you don’t have to, buddy,” said John.
“Our food stores are a blessing, John,” said Stark, “We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”
Stark took a bite of the hot mush and swallowed despite the face he made.
“What smells so disgusting in here?” D’Argo growled as he swaggered into the kitchen.
“Crichton made something even Stark can’t stomach,” said Aeryn.
“Hey would you stop insulting my cooking?! I just tried to make chicken noodle soup for Zhaan.”
“Ah, chichen, the mysterious cureall of Earp,” said D’Argo examining the pot, “Does it always smell like someone’s left a package of xlantic powder out in the sun?”
“Well we don’t have any chicken in space now do we?”
“What the yotz is that stench?!”
“Rygel get out of here,” said John pinching the bridge of his nose, “I already know my cooking is bad, this was just an experiment. I was trying to make some comfort food for Zhaan.”
“Speaking of Zhaan,” said Rygel, “Why aren’t you with her Stark? I thought you two were getting close.”
“Zhaan is taking the time to meditate alone, I do not want to disturb her.”
John coughed, “Is that what she’s calling it now?”
“She’s not meditating so long as we’re orbiting this star,” Rygel gestured to the bright starlight that had been pouring through the window the central chamber.
“What?” asked Stark through a mouth full of mush.
Aeryn smirked “Pilot thought orbiting a star would help improve Zhaan’s spirits while we search for a planet for her.”
“And you know how female Delvians get in direct radiation,” said D’Argo.
“I’m surprised she’s not trying to paw you down like a Scarran in heat right now,” said Rygel with a raise of his earbrow.
“Ugh, Rygel, stop being disgusting,” said John as Stark overwhelmed, raised his utensil at Rygel, who only reversed his throne sled in retreat.
“What Zhaan does with her time is nobody’s business but her own!”
“Okay, easy there Stark,” said John, gently removing the utensil from the Banik’s hand. “Rygel, you wouldn’t know about this but a man’s sex life is a personal and private thing, it’s not something to joke about.”
“I meant nothing by it, Crichton, we all know the only ones getting any sort of carnal action on this ship are D’Argo and Chiana! Everyone’s sex life here is a joke.”
“You better shut it Rygel,” threatened Aeryn in a low voice.
The central chamber filled with a smell that reminded John of a freshly cut lawn on a summer’s day.
“Are we telling jokes Rygel?” hummed Zhaan distractedly.
“Only about-“ Rygel’s words were muffled by Aeryn’s hand closing around his lips.
Zhaan smiled what John knew after over two cycles aboard Moya as Zhaan’s “sunbathing” smile. She glided through the central chamber in her dark blue dressing gown, and from what John could tell through the bright lighting, little else. The light must have done her some good, she looked better than she had in the last solar day.
She gently took the bowl of mush out of Stark’s hand and set it on the counter. She smiled at him, pressed her hand to his cheek, said, “Stark dear, I find it necessary to speak to you privately.”
Stark’s whole body physically twitched before he grasped her hand, and smiling, let her lead him out of the room.
“Woo! Get it Starky!” cheered John.
“Eugh,” choked Rygel. He floated towards the cooking range to look into the pot, “Well if no one else will eat this slop, I will.”