“Did something happen while you were there?” Jillian sent to her line cook.
“Well, we didn’t think so but after we got back last night we were really itchy. We took a shower and got, ahem, distracted with other things. The itching went away and we didn’t think any more of it,” Lydia explained.
“Go on,” Jillian sent dryly. She could imagine what “other things” had distracted the pair, once they got into the shower together. They hadn’t been bonded that long and they were completely crazy for each other. In fact, she’d often wished she could have a relationship with a man that was anywhere near as good as theirs.
“Well, this morning when we woke up and started getting ready to come in, we both had big blue spots all over our skin,” Lydia sent. “We called the Med Center and they said we had to stay in our suite. Apparently, we’ve both contracted Itcher’s Rash from someone on Yanna Globen and once the spots pop out, it’s extremely contagious. So I’m afraid that we’re under strict quarantine until the spots fade. I’m really sorry, Chef,” Lydia added, her mental voice sounding sincerely upset. “I know we were supposed to prep for the big VIP dinner tonight. Lor and I both feel awful leaving you high and dry like this on such short notice!”
Jillian took a deep breath. Well, today had just gotten a lot more interesting. Still, she’d been short-handed in the kitchen before—she could manage.
“Don’t give it another thought,” she told Lydia. “You and Lor just get well. Did the Med Center say how long it would take for the spots to fade?”
“They said seven to ten days. I’m so sorry, Chef.” Lydia’s mental voice honestly sounded like she might cry. “I know that’s a really long time for us to be gone.”
It was extremely bad news—being short-handed that long was going to seriously screw with her productivity. But Jillian told herself she could manage.
“Just get well,” she told her line cook. “And give my best to Lor. I’ll see both of you when the spots clear up.”
She broke the connection and took a deep breath. All right, it was going to be a race today to get everything finished. Even with Suzanne’s help, there was a lot to do and she was going to be working with alien ingredients she’d never handled before.
Still, she could do it. Stress in the kitchen was still a hundred times better than being drugged and dumped in the Dark Market and abducted by a Trollox. Today was definitely going to be better than yesterday.
“I can do this,” Jillian told herself. “I know I can.”
She hoped.
27
But she had cause to doubt herself several hours later…all because of the thaelite.
Jillian had called Suzanne and the two women spent all morning prepping ingredients and cooking the parts of the dinner that needed to be prepared ahead of time. The jumja stew was bubbling in a huge stock pot and it was time to add the thaelite. Hard, Suzanne’s Dark Twin Kindred husband, had been enlisted to bring it from the shuttle and place it on a reinforced countertop. Finally, they were all set to carve off the recommended amount and put it in the soup.
“Okay, here goes…” Jillian had the ion-scoop—which she had cleaned thoroughly several times, considering the use she’d put it to the day before—poised over the small black brick. Suzanne and Hard were watching with interest as she flipped the switch on the ion-scoop, which hummed to life, and dug out a chunk of the ultra-dense ingredient.
Or tried to, anyway. Because no matter how hard she pushed the ion-scoop into the brick of thaelite, she couldn’t make even a dent in the stuff.
“Ugh—I don’t understand this,” she complained, after several attempts. “I was able to carve through solid metal with this thing yesterday. It was like cutting into a hard cheese or a watermelon—I got some resistance at first, but then the scoop went right on through.”
She didn’t want to think about how easily the same scoop had carved out Ripper’s eye. It was a traumatic memory she would much rather forget.
“Maybe you should let Hard try it,” Suzanne said, looking at her tall, dark-haired husband. “He’s a lot stronger that either one of us.”
“Sure, I can try.” Hard nodded amiably. “I can only imagine how difficult it would be to dig into that stuff—it was heavy as fuck when I was carrying it from the shuttle.”
Suzanne sighed. “Language, honey.”
“Sorry. Okay—here goes.”
He took the scoop carefully in one large hand and attempted to scoop out a chunk of the thaelite. But though the Dark Twin Kindred pushed until he was sweating and red in the face, he only managed to make a small, barely visible dent in the ultra-dense brick.
“Son of a motherless whore!” he swore, putting down the scoop at last. “Sorry, baby,” he said to Suzanne remorsefully. “That stuff is fucking impossible to work with.”