After the party, Christianne put her hands on her hips and surveyed the damage. "It really could be worse," she remarked.

"You should know better than to say that," scolded her wife with an amused eyeroll.

"This is the worst thing I've ever seen," amended Christianne loudly, for the benefit of the Narrative Laws. "Oh woe! Disaster! How will we ever carry on?"

Eledhwen threw a trash bag at her. "Help me clean up, Lamaendis."

As they went through the flotsam and jetsam of their daughter Muriel's birthday party, Christianne noted that one of the cakes on the table was suspiciously intact. Save for one missing slice, the rest of this bright red cake had been completely untouched.

"Who brought this cake?" she wondered.

Eledhwen looked over, frowning. "I think that one was... Dawn? Or one of her kids. Homemade, I believe."

Christianne pouted. "Why would anyone want to turn down a homemade cake?"

Eledhwen shrugged. "Perhaps there is something wrong with the ingredients. It is bright red."

"Could be red velvet," said Christianne as she grabbed a fork and cut a small slice. "Red velvet's delicious."

"If it was truly delicious, then it would not be here still," Eledhwen pointed out.

"Or no one at the party, our daughter included, has any taste," declared Christianne. "I'll try it."

Eledhwen wrinkled her nose. "Are you sure that is a good idea, dear?"

"I fear nothing," retorted Christianne as she shoved the forkful into her mouth. Within seconds, all of the spices hit her at once, and she spat the cake out onto the table. "Radagast on a bunny sled, what the--?!"

Eledhwen raised an eyebrow as she went over and pushed the cake into Christianne's open trash bag. "What does it taste like, o fearless one?" she asked dryly.

Christianne winced. "Like if someone tried to make chili hot chocolate but forgot the chocolate?"

Eledhwen gave a very un-Eldar-like snort. "Ah. Must have been Zohar's cake."

(CW: contains BL2 and possibly BL9 from the Blacklist.)

Recipe taken from The Mini-Balrog Cookbook.

---

“Are you sure this is safe, Matt?”

“Here in Headquarters? Absolutely not! But what’s life without a bit of risk?” Matterhorn chuckled to himself. The incredibly old and wrinkled man held up a matching old and wrinkled cookbook, squinting at its pages.

“Fair enough, but this looks like more than ‘a bit’ of risk.” Tess, a patchwork woman made of metal, glitter, and papery flesh, took a step back to give her fellow worker some space.

“Oh, it absolutely is!” Chuckling, Matterhorn put down the book by the currently pre-heating oven. Opening one of the kitchen shelves above him, he pulled out a pot and moved over to the stove. “Sue Souffle takes special care, see? Our supply of meat is limited, so we can only spare so many mistakes.”

“Not that kind of risk, I just…” Tess made a vague gesture with her claws. “I just see this as unsafe. This is an old recipe, and I haven’t calculated the chance of success yet.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Riley!” Matterhorn spun to face the corner of the room.

In the dusty kitchen corner, slightly obscured by shadows, the Lucario wearing a Cafeteria uniform flinched - he had been trying to stay out of this mess for the last several minutes. He gave an apologetic nod and stepped forward, head bowed and paws behind his back.

“There we go.” Matterhorn clapped his hands together, reading through the cookbook’s list of ingredients. “Alrighty, then! Riley, I need milk, eggs, butter, and some Bleepka. Pronto.”

Riley jolted upright and moved, becoming a blur as he followed the order as fast as he could. A light breeze kicked up from sheer speed as the Lucario searched cupboards and scattered boxes faster than the eye could track, leaving rattling jars and half-open drawers in his wake.

A few seconds later, Riley screeched to a halt in front of Matterhorn, an array of ingredients held in his paws. He was breathing heavily, eyes wide, but said nothing.

“A bit more than I asked for, but this should still work. Go ahead and toss it over here, will you?” Matterhorn gestured towards an open space on the counter. Riley dumped the ingredients there, before retreating back to his corner.

Matterhorn took a stick of butter from the pile and tossed it into the pot on the stove. Then he grabbed a carton of milk and tore it in half like an eggshell, letting its insides splash into the pot as well. Humming to himself, he also took a bottle of Bleepka, tore off the cork (and the top of the bottle) with his teeth, and dumped its entire contents into the buttered, milky pot.

“Now, let the show begin!” Matterhorn grabbed the stove dial and cranked it up, grinning as a surprisingly small flame lit up underneath the pot. The sauce began to simmer.

“Do you need help with that?” Tess had walked over, raising a metallic arm. “If you’re truly dedicated, I suppose you’ll need some.”

“Oh, perfect timing! Help would be very useful, yes.”

“Right, in that case… can I see that?” Tess pointed at the cookbook.

“Be my guest!” Matterhorn picked up the book and handed it to her.

Tess took a moment to scan the list of ingredients, noting the ones that hadn’t already been gathered. Sighing to herself, she placed the book on the counter again and turned to Riley, who was still in the corner and trying to act like he wasn’t there.

“Riley, can you pass me the, uh…" She paused. One could hear the gears in her head actually turning if the pot on the stove wasn’t simmering so loudly.

"What's the word now…: She made a vague gesture with her claws. “The soft, tiny breads? Sorry, running on low battery today."

"...You mean the breadcrumbs,” Matterhorn said, pointing at the cookbook.

If Tess still had blood, she would've flushed red. "The… the words are unclear, and the illustrations don’t help.” She turned to Riley. “Um, do you mind…"

Matterhorn laughed, then cupped his hands over his mouth.

“Riley! The breadcrumbs! Oh, and some cheese while you’re at it! Of the Swiss variety!”

As Riley became a blur once again, Matterhorn turned back to the pot. He reached into an open meat crate on the floor, grabbed some of the suspiciously glittery clumps in both hands, and dropped it into the bubbling sauce.

Some of the sauce splashed onto his beard, and he took a moment to lick it for a quick taste test. He nodded in appreciation. “This is fine enough so far - oh, hello, Riley. Back already, I see.”

The Lucario had returned in seconds, bags of breadcrumbs and wheels of cheese stacked in his arms high enough to nearly obscure his face. He hefted the ingredients, making a weak attempt at a smile.

“Thank you, kid.” Matterhorn nodded. “Add that to the pile, will you?”

Riley gave him a shaky nod before moving to do what he was told.

“Hey Matt, sorry for the interruption, but can you move for a second?” Tess walked over to the pot, holding one of her metal arms over the simmering sauce. Matterhorn shrugged and scooted to the side.

Tess twisted a dial on her outstretched arm, and one of her metallic fingertips flipped open. She held it out, letting a thin stream of salt flow out and into the pot. She twisted the dial again, causing the salt stream to stop, before being replaced by a stream of black pepper. Another twist, and some nutmeg was poured into the brew as well. Finally, Tess twisted the dial once more, and her finger swung shut. She leaned back and let her arm fall back to her side.

“Just had to add the spices.”

“Perfectly fine! Saves me the trouble of calling Riley again.”

At the mention of his name, Riley jolted, even after having retreated back to the corner. Neither of his fellow Cafeteria workers seemed to notice.

Matterhorn turned the flame off of the stove and moved the pot to a different burner. Letting the sauce settle, he moved over to the oven and opened it up, grinning as a wave of heat washed through the kitchen.

“Perfect! Time to finish our mix.” With that, Matterhorn scooped up the rest of the ingredients on the counter and dumped them into the brew, not even bothering to crack the uncooked eggs or break apart the giant wheels of Swiss cheese.

“I don’t think that’s what the instructions said you should do, Matt.” Tess backed away from the ‘splash zone’ of sauce that sprayed onto the floor as the ingredient-dumping commenced.

Matterhorn chuckled in response, wiping his hands off on his apron. “Well, don’t you worry your head about it. It’s just a shortcut, that’s all. Time is of the essence, and we have hungry Agents to feed!”

“I… I still don’t think that makes this a good idea.”

“And that’s a you problem, kid!” Matterhorn picked up the pot, shoved it into the oven, and slammed the door shut, before stepping back and grinning proudly.

“Now, we wait.” The old man stared at the closed oven, through the glass window and at the cooking souffle within, dimly lit by a small yellow glow.

“Wait for how long?” Tess walked forward to look at the temperature settings. “You never set a timer. And why is the oven set to 375 degrees Celsius?”

“Oh, it’s Celsius?” Matterhorn thought about this for a second, before shrugging. “Eh, whatever. That just means it’ll cook faster, going off of HQ’s warped rules of nature.”

A low rumble filled the air. Inside the oven, the souffle began to rise, oozing over the melting pot it had been stuck in and filling out the oven.

“I’m not convinced you know what you're doing anymore,” Tess said, backing up as the souffle swelled enough that it pressed against the oven door. “At the very least, are you sure we’re not going over recommended heating time?”

“If anything we’re well under it!” Matterhorn picked up the cookbook and brandished it like it was a holy scripture, tapping a finger against the instructions. “The book says 35 minutes, and we’re barely at one here!”

Tess grimaced, shooting a wary look at the rumbling oven. “Somehow, I don’t think the ‘Mini-Balrog Cookbook’ accounted for this scenario.”

“Well, shame to be the Mini-Balrog, because here we are!”

The oven behind him began to groan loudly, the sheer mass of souffle prying the door open from the inside and already oozing through the gaps. Matterhorn turned and gave it a look.

“Oh, what a quick bake we’re having!” To the surprise of his fellow Cafeteria workers, the old man gave a hearty laugh. “Look at it go! Look at the number of portions on that thing!”

Riley had left his corner and fled the kitchen the moment the oven had cracked open, and Tess was starting to feel like he had the right idea. She slowly inched towards the exit, even as she was unable to take her eyes off the abomination of a souffle pouring out of the oven.

“Are you sure this is going to be okay?” she asked, her voice showing a hint of fear despite her best attempt to hide it. “Will you be okay?”

“Haha! I fear nothing!” Matterhorn declared, arms outstretched as the souffle reached critical mass.

“Right, if you’re dedicated… I’ll miss you, then.” Tess turned and ran as the souffle finally burst open the oven door, erupting out and into the kitchen in a shoulder-height wave of gloop. Matterhorn didn't seem to care, still gazing upon his handiwork with rapturous awe.

“I’ll be back!” The old man kept his arms outstretched, laughing even as the wave of flour and glitter washed over him.

“I fear nothing!!!” The Sith roared as he leaped, lightsaber lit and raised over his head, ready to attack his foe.

“Yes, yes, yes, I’ve heard it all before” Theo sighed as he read the attack and seemingly effortlessly jumped back wincing a little as the lightsaber pierced the floor where he had been standing moments before. He shot a couple of times with his blaster before activating his jetpack, not needing the force to ready where the angry Sith would be aiming for his next swing at him. “Next you’ll say something along the lines of ‘I am the Darkness’ or…”

“I will destroy you!”

“Yeah, exactly.” Theo smirked, raising his cybernetic arm as the lightsaber got a little too close to comfort, the beskar armour protecting it blocking the blow, even if he could feel the push of the Force from the impact.

Not that the Sith seemed to care about that, instead going for another wide open attack that would have left those unused to facing Force users or those scared by his ham-fisted attempts at intimidation cowering if not dead at the hands of his lightsaber. For Theo however, this was hardly the first time he had faced a Sith, and realistically this didn’t even come in his top one ten fights with a Force User (although given he had helped take on names such as Revan and Darth Malgus Theo would admit it took something special to claim a spot on that list). This time Theo opted not to go around the Sith, but over him, fully activating his jetpack as he rose up out of the Sith’s reach before descending behind him, taking full advantage of his position to fire another couple of blaster bolts at the Sith’s backside.

That was, Theo mused to himself, one of the problems when a bounty was to be taken alive. One had to be careful in a battle.

“You can never defeat me, the Dark Side makes me unstoppable!” The Sith roared, before spinning around, trying to literally chop Theo in half, or at least, trying to chop Theo in half if he had been stood right behind the Sith, given that he wasn’t wielding a lightsaber or a knife however Theo was comfortably out of range of the attack.

“Sure you are buddy.” Theo replied, taking a second to size up his foe. Despite the Sith’s proclamations Theo could see that he was beginning to tire, the fact Theo had woken him up after only a couple of hours sleep, probably helping that fact. Still, it was enough for Theo to raise his cybernetic arm, pointing one of the nozzles on the gauntlet directly at the Sith and, with a quick double check to make sure it wasn’t the flamethrower (he’d made that mistake before and his employer at the time had not been happy about that), fired a stun dart directly at the Sith.

Whether it was tiredness or an (incorrect) assumption that anything that wasn’t a lightsaber couldn’t kill him, the Sith didn’t even bother to try and swat the dart aside, instead only realising his mistake as the dart did its job and shocked him into submission. “But… I… am, Sith. It’s… impossible.” he croaked out before falling unconscious.

“I’ve heard that one before too.” Theo said as he looked down at the fallen Sith, tapping another option on his Gauntlet as the stun dart’s nozzle disappeared into the mechanisms that made up both his arm and it’s armour, being replaced by another one that he quickly used to freeze the Sith in carbonite, keeping him secure for the journey back to his ship at least, where he could be properly secured for transport back to Republic space. Walking back he put through a call to his ship “Mako, it’s me. Bounty’s all done, let’s get off this rock.”

---

For the record, Theo is a DoGA agent of mine (still working on the first mission) and (more importantly), yes I have finally managed to actually write a response to one of my own prompts.

Nova

“Farah!” Captain Rauhan called when she walked into the corridor Farah had already been going down. “I was just looking for you - we need you down on the ramp to load up the late shipment that just got here.”-

“But Aunt,” Farah protested, “I was just there! I worked a full shift!”

“But nothing - we’ve got an undock time to make and the schedule’s packed, so we either load everything up or leave stuff behind. And with how much we’re getting paid for that order …”

“It’s not our fault though! Those cans were late!”

Rauhan signed. “Still our problem.”

“Well, but … I’ve gotten sore and I just ate and —“

Rauhan, who’d been slowly working down the corridor during this conversation, put an arm around Farah. “Yeah, I know. It sucks. Gods know I don’t want to be going out there to help load either — or to stick Rren with working out the course and the balance checks, with how the dust field around here is —“

“Wait, you’re coming too?”

“Yeah. This is one of those times where we’ve got to push through. We’re not a big ship here, we don’t have a lot of people around to pick up extra work when we get slammed by this crap. Not enough people, not enough time.” Rauhan signed. “That’s just how it gets.”

“So, what, I’m just getting pulled in without much of a break?”

“Hate to do it to you, but I don’t have any better ideas. You got anything, Farah?”

Farah thought about that. Aunt — Captain Rauhan had a point. All that stuff did need to be loaded in, and she’d seen the docking schedule — half the universe wanted in and out of Urtur today, as far as she could tell.

She shook her head. “No, no I don’t. I guess I’ll just …” She started to turn around, towards where the Ascension had docked with station.

“Just because you have to do it,” her aunt added, “doesn’t mean you can’t be unhappy about it. I’d send that factory manager and that extremely efficient fellow from customs to their own hell if I could … but I’m sure they’d find a way to get lost on the way there.”

Farah broke out in laughter. She hadn’t been expecting that sentiment right after the ‘listen, kid, suck it up’ speech she’d just gotten. “They would! And they’d somehow end up with paperwork for heaven at the end of it!”

Captain Rauhan chuckled. “That they would.

“I’ll find a way to slow down once we’re out of here,” she added. “Get everyone a break. For now, let’s get back to work.”

“Yeah … let’s,” Farah said. “I’ll do what I can.”

---

[BEEEEEEEP]

Farah jumped up and turned off the console alarm. “We just got back,” she complained at the machine, “we’ve barely had time to eat and …” She’d actually took in the header of the report. “What, really? How? Picard wouldn’t — even if —“

She stood up and sighed. “Not enough time, not enough people.”

“Hm?” Kkukttak asked, turning to her.

“Oh, something Aunt Rauhan used to say when we’d get sucked into overtime.” Farah said. “We’re up for another mission.”

“The Flower-princes have quite high expectations,” Kkukttak said, gathering his things. From what Farah had learn of him, this was as close as he’d get to unleashing a rant about those gods-dammed Flowers anywhere he thought they might hear him. Insubordination was quite dangerous on a kid ship, after all, unless you could back it up … which the two of them definitely couldn’t.

“They really do,” Farah said. “At least it’s Star Trek, so with that replicator program we got DoSAT to help us out with, you should be fine on food.”

Kkukttak nodded. “So,” he said, looking at the portal.

“So.” Farah replied, calling up their entry into the fic.

No matter what universe you were in, some things never changed. Needing to call people back in was one of them.