“Water and what else?” demanded Escrima. “Can we eat the local meat? I can’t do anything without fresh meat, or fresh vegetables, either. What about power? I can’t even cook without power.”
“Power’s not going to be a problem,” said Phule.
“Hallelujah, I can boil water.” Escrima sneered. “Lots of nice hot tea and reconstituted soups, hah?” He pantomimed spitting out something foul-tasting. “You got to do better than that, Captain.”
Phule stood up. “Escrima, I know for a fact that the natives of this world can eat some of our food, so I’m sure we can eat some of theirs, too. I think you should look on it as a stimulating challenge to find out which of their things our people can use, and ways to prepare them-“
“A challenge?” Escrima’s eyes widened. “You don’t want to challenge me, Captain. No, not unless-“
“Maybe challenge is the wrong word,” Phule cut in quickly. “A chance to prove how good you really are. We’ve all tasted what you can do when you’ve got a cordon bleu-quality kitchen to work with. I’ll guarantee you, there’s not a chef on the planet who could top you.” This was true; Phule occasionally had reason to eat a meal off-base, and he knew that Landoor’s best restaurants served as good a meal as he’d find anywhere in the Galaxy. But the food Escrima put out daily for the legionnaires of Omega Company was even better.
Escrima wasn’t in a mood to be flattered. “I make the finest food in the Legion, and now you tell me I got to rough it, cook over a campfire for all I know. How long you think it’ll be before everybody starts cracking wise about the food? Captain, you gonna drive me crazy!”