Doc trailed in behind, leaned against the open doorjamb after she left. “I’m a really good cook,” Trilby told him, between mouthfuls. “If you had a galley, I’d prove it. This is replicator, right?” “One hundred percent balanced nutrition.” She flipped a few clumps of brown mush with her fork. “Tastes like rice that was ashamed of its identity.” He laughed. “It’s our replicator’s version of a Yaniran rice dish, yes. It is quite wholesome.” “Give me the original recipe. I’ll make it delicious.” “There are a few personal galleys on board. But I would have to clear the matter with the captain.” She pointed the fork at him. “Ask him about my cooking. I never saw a man eat so much food in my life.” “You cooked for him, yes?” “I cooked for us. My ship doesn’t have replicators. And as most of my runs are trikes, I stock up on fresh from station hydroponics when I need to.” She thought for a moment. “You got a hydroponics on board?” “A small one.
