The galley door swung open with a metallic sigh, releasing a cloud of warmth and noise into the corridor. Sanza and Jelly were greeted by a scene of organized chaos. The air hung thick with the greasy perfume of frying bacon, the earthy scent of potatoes, and the sharp, clean note of seared sea king meat. At the large stove, Eliane Anđel held court. A miniature chef's jacket was tied over her clothes, a smudge of flour on one cheek. Her small hands moved with a controlled frenzy, managing multiple skillets with a focus that turned the roaring flames into an extension of her will.
At the central counter, Atlas Acuta and Jannali Bandler leaned against it like judges at a culinary tournament. Atlas, his rust-red fur brushed, watched the cooking process with a predator's focused patience. Jannali, her afro a soft cloud in the steam-filled light, sipped from a mug, her intelligent eyes missing nothing.
"Your wrist action is too stiff, spark-plug," Atlas rumbled, a smirk playing on his muzzle. "You're cooking eggs, not tenderizing meat."
"Don't listen to him," Jannali countered, her voice a warm, rolling timbre. "You've got the touch. Just keep 'em moving, like you're stirring the ocean's surface on a calm day."
Beside Eliane at the stove, Ember was hunched over a ceramic bowl on a secondary work surface, her neon-pink space buns stark against the galley's muted tones. She was hunched over a ceramic bowl, mixing something with a violent, concentrated fervor. Her tongue poked from the corner of her mouth, her mismatched eyes—one blue, one gold—crossed in focus. The charred plush rabbit, Mr. Cinders, sat watching from the counter beside her.
Eliane, gave a skillet a final, expert flick of her wrist, launching a perfect hemisphere of golden eggs into the air. It landed back in the pan with a soft hiss. She slid the finished portion onto a plate and pushed it across the counter to him with. Atlas didn't hesitate, scooping a massive spoonful into his mouth. He chewed, considered, then gave a slow, approving nod. "Not bad."
Sanza's gaze swept past the counter to the main table. There, a different sort of tension hummed. Aurélie Nakano Takeko sat with perfect posture, a cup of tea held in both hands, her silver hair a fall of mercury in the morning light. Bianca Yvonne Clark was leaned so far back in her chair it threatened to topple, gesturing with a screwdriver she'd apparently brought to breakfast. Marya Zaleska sat at the head, her leather jacket unzipped over a simple shirt, her golden eyes fixed on something far beyond the riveted walls. Galit Varuna was beside her, his long neck curved in a listening posture, his emerald eyes darting between Marya and Bianca.
Jelly, with a final excited "Bloop!", detached from Sanza and became a bouncing, azure comet heading straight for Eliane. He vibrated at her feet. "Food time!"
Eliane giggled, reaching down to pat his wobbly head. "Good morning, Jelly! Almost ready!"
Jannali, however, pulled her own plate of crispy bacon closer with a protective scowl. "Back off, you mutant aspic! This is mine!"
Sanza, seeing an empty seat next to Marya, navigated the room. He pulled the heavy chair out, the legs scraping against the deck plating, and plopped into it. His presence barely registering in Marya's orbit.
Bianca was in full flow, the screwdriver tracing arcs in the air. "So like, the Singularity Core is, like, operational at 82.83%, which is, like, totally stable for our needs. Power's not a drama. But the bubble-porter, that's the teleportation grid, it needs, like, specific crystalline focusing arrays. I'll get with Halia after brekkie, see if the ship's database has, like, a shopping list."
Marya gave a slow, absent nod. Her fingers traced the rim of her untouched coffee cup.
Jannali called out from the counter, not turning around. "Food's up, mates. Better grab a plate before the walking dessert gets any ideas." She jabbed a fork in Jelly's direction, who was now trying to morph into the shape of a sausage.
Galit stood, his chair making a sharper sound than Sanza's. He moved to the counter, collected a loaded tray, and began distributing plates. He set one in front of Marya with a quiet thud.
Aurélie took a slow sip of tea, her eyes on Marya. "The navigation system has a tentative lock on a migratory pattern consistent with a Pride of the Tide. The main tactical obstacle will be enticing one to the surface. A clean kill in open water is preferable to a struggle in the deep."
Marya nodded again, the motion robotic. Her gaze was locked on the steam rising from her eggs.
Sanza, already shoveling bacon into his mouth, looked up. He swallowed a half-chewed chunk. "What is it, big sis?"
The title, so irreverent and familiar, finally pulled Marya from her trance. A faint smirk touched her lips, a crack in the stoic ice. "I am thinking about a weird dream I had."
Bianca paused, a butter-laden biscuit halfway to her mouth. "Weird like how?"
Marya tapped her fingernail against the ceramic cup. Tick. Tick. Tick. "I saw my mother."
The gentle clatter of cutlery at the counter didn't stop, but Aurélie's eyebrow ascended a fraction. The steam from her tea hung more still in the air.
"She showed me her home," Marya continued, her voice low, almost lost in the galley's ambient hum. "And she told me her people were hunted. For their silver eyes. She called it… celestial sight."
Sanza frowned, chewing thoughtfully. "But you and big brother don't have silver eyes."
"No," Marya said, her own golden eyes narrowing. "We have our father's eyes."
Sanza nodded, as if confirming a basic fact of the universe. "Your eyes are like grandmother's."
The word landed in the quiet space like a stone in a pond. Grandmother. Marya's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Her mind, usually a map of immediate threats and tactical puzzles, suddenly faced a vast, empty quadrant labeled 'Family.' A grandmother. A living, breathing connection to the father who was a monument, and the mother who was a ghost. The concept was alien, a wrench thrown into the careful machinery of her solitary purpose.
Bianca, ever the bulldozer of momentous silences, waved her biscuit. "So, like, was there anything else in the dream? A map? A secret recipe? A handy clue?"
Just then, the door burst open again. Vesta Lavana swept in, arms wide as if embracing the entire room. "GOOD MORNING, ALL!" she announced, her voice a bright, musical cannon blast.
Atlas chuckled, a low rumble from his corner. "Morning, songbird. You hungry?"
"FAMISHED!" Vesta declared, sliding onto a stool next to Atlas and Jannali, who was now using a boomerang to gently fend off Jelly's curious probing.
Marya gave a slow, distracted nod, pulling herself back. "Yeah. After she was gone, two others appeared. Ace said something about his brother breaking the world. And Corazon… he said not to let Law wake Pluton."
Galit's head tilted. "Ace. That's the one whose grave you visited."
Vesta spun on her stool, her rainbow hair flaring. "Ace is Luffy's brother!" she announced to the room, as if sharing the most vital newsflash ever issued.
Every face at the main table turned towards her. Blank stares. Confused blinks. The name 'Luffy' meant nothing in this context, a piece of trivia from a different story.
After a beat of thick, awkward silence, Bianca shrugged and took a huge bite of her biscuit. "Like, cool," she said, crumbs tumbling down her overalls.
Vesta blinked, shrugged back, and turned to face the counter, her enthusiasm undimmed.
Marya shook her head, a tiny expulsion of breath. Aurélie's voice was a scalpel, precise and cool. "And Corazon? And Law?"
Marya opened her mouth, the words forming—
The galley door slid open for a third time. Dr. Zip H. Scatyl entered with the silent, unsettling grace of a spider. His sickly-grey skin, small forward-pointing horns, and immaculate white medical coat created a pocket of cold in the warm room. His yellowish eyes darted, taking inventory. At the same moment, in the center of the galley, light particles coalesced, swirling into the form of Halia. Her silver-blue hair flowed in an unseen current, her large, expressive eyes wide.
Charlie Leonard Wooley stumbled in right behind Zip, his face buried in a crumbling notebook. He bumped into the ogre doctor's back. Zip didn't stumble, but his head rotated a slow, eerie ninety degrees to look at Charlie. "Ahem! Apologies, my good… physician," Charlie muttered, not looking up.
All conversation died. Every eye fixed on the luminous hologram.
Halia's voice, usually so melodic, carried a new, urgent frequency. "Forgive the intrusion. A Lion Sea King signature has altered course. It is moving at speed toward our current coordinates. I recommend an immediate breach and tactical repositioning to a zone of our choosing."
The silence that followed was absolute, broken only by the sizzle from Eliane's forgotten skillet.
Then, a squeal. Eliane tore off her apron, her small face alight with a fierce, blazing joy. "REALLY?!" She didn't wait for confirmation. "LET'S GO!" She was a silver-haired bolt, shooting past Zip and Charlie and out the galley door before anyone could breathe.
Galit let out a low whistle, a grin spreading across his face. "Someone's excited."
Atlas slid off his stool, cracking his neck. "Way to state the obvious, noodle-neck."
Jannali was already on her feet, snatching her plate out of Jelly's reach. She brandished her boomerang. "Right, we better get topside. Leave the little chef alone with a giant fish and she'll probably try to season it while it's still breathing."
The spell was broken. The quiet breakfast, the dream-haunted musings, the awkward trivia—all were washed away by the sudden, violent tide of action. Chairs scraped, cutlery clattered, and the crew of the ancient submarine moved as one, a human and non-human torrent flowing toward the door, leaving half-eaten meals and steaming drinks behind in their rush to meet the hunt.
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