Food Fight (After Midnight)

Gill was sleeping soundly, his leg still held in the air by that silly looking contraption the Doc had made. Haddie listened to him breathing as she sat there in the dark. She was still too angry to sleep. How dare Vas take away her things and stop her from going to the celebrations. It just wasn’t fair. She would have been careful. She had borrowed a knife and everything. Her eyes narrowed as she considered his fate but in the end he was saved from his imagined demise by a rumble in her tummy.

She shifted uncomfortably as she considered the fact that she was hungry. She had skipped dinner to avoid the annoyance of the grown ups and had meant to sneak back later for a snack, but then Gill had been all talkative mooning over that Serena girl. As far as Haddie could tell they had not exchanged a gorram word since she had come aboard yet to listen to him go on about her you’d think they were set to be hitched. Haddie figured it must be a fever left over from the wolf bite or the like.

With a sigh she threw off her covers and sat up. She was angry and hungry, hangry in fact. That was a word her Pa had used often enough back then. The memory brought a stab of pain that has nothing to do with hunger and she shoved it away with ruthless efficiency as she padded her way over to the door and out into the corridor.

The ship was not silent. It was never silent, it had a life all of its own, but it was quiet. The low hum of the engines and the buzz of the life support were the only sounds to accompany her as she made her way toward the galley.

The problem with passengers was the notion of free food. Marisol had seen it before; whether or not they’d eaten their three squares a day, passengers were always ready to scoop up a plate of anything that was being cooked. Her late night meal had wound up feeding an additional six folks. She’d used rice to stretch it all to hell, but in the end she sent the paying customers to their beds after a snack that had left her still wanting more. Too late, she finally relented. She needed a few hours in her bunk, more than a full belly. Time to clean up her cooking mess.

Haddie rounded the corner and froze. She was there, Marisol. Strangely as Haddie stood there trying to drum up the feelings of spite and resentment she usually reserved for the woman all she could manage was a mild annoyance at being thwarted in her quest for a midnight snack and a growing sense of gnawing hunger.

Marisol had just finished scraping plates when she felt as if she were being watched. “Hello?” she asked the empty galley, but no response came her way. Wringing her hands with a towel, the mechanic entered the dining area...and came face to face with Haddie. The child was barefoot, wearing a simple pullover gown with faded flowers that trailed over a shoulder. The two stood a moment, sizing each other up. Though the last time they’d seen one another had been the rescue and resulting gunfight with the Roost’s henchmen, they’d never had the chance to communicate in the aftermath, in whatever form that might take.

Finally, it was Marisol who relented. “You hungry?”

An amusing war of emotions fought for Haddie's face as she stared up at her one time nemesis and more recently her saviour from those stinking men… and now well quite frankly she was an answer to prayer. A grin almost split her face in two as she nodded her head eagerly.

The sight of that child’s grin was undoubtedly the best thing that had happened to her all day. Marisol’s face relaxed into its own smile as she said, “well, let’s see what we can do.” The mechanic opened the refrigerator, her eyes covering the shelves for something that might go quickly. She spied one of the numerous hotdog cartons they’d boosted from the Skyplex. “How about a hotdog?” Marisol withdrew from the fridge to ask the girl.

Another nod and Haddie scampered up onto a stool to better oversee proceedings. She snatched down two plates from the side and opened one of the drawers and began to rifle through for cutlery. Strange that she couldn’t find any knives, there used to be loads but someone had moved them. Her work complete she looked up to Marisol expectantly, awaiting her feast.

“Thanks,” the woman nodded as she removed a fresh pan. “We’re just gonna boil ‘em tonight...quick and easy. Soon, a few of the plump frankfurters were floating in a pan full of water on the stove. “We’ve got buns,” she placed the rolls down on the counter. “A little relish,” Marisol continued, “and ketchup and mustard.” These came from the upper cabinet, two of a collection of squeeze bottles to be put out for the passengers on the coming “hotdog day” meal plan.

“And now”, Marisol said, “we wait. Let’s see what there is to drink.” The condiments now lined the counter as she turned away toward the refrigerator.

Had snatched the end from a roll and popped it into her mouth as she studied the brightly coloured sauce bottles and enjoyed the meaty scent of the boiling hotdogs. A drink would be good. Absently she lifted the ketchup bottle and flipped the lid back and forth. Click, open, click closed.. Marisol turned at the sound making Haddie jump and squeeze the bottle.

The red fountain of ketchup sailed through the air and Haddie watched wide eyed as if in slow motion it hit the engineer squarely between the eyes, covering her nose and dipping down into her mouth. Haddie did not move other than to allow her mouth to drop open in surprise and horror. She slammed the ketchup down producing another minor eruption which decorated the worktop and the buns.

Ketchup lay upon the counter. Ketchup spattered over the buns. Ketchup was now dripping from the tip of her nose. Hadddie wore an expression of shock. Considering what Marisol had been covered in earlier today, this situation suddenly struck her as very funny. She laughed, astonishment and genuine amusement causing an outburst. “Ohhhh,” Marisol chortled, “we’re gonna be in trouble…..”
When the devil came into her eyes, he set his sights on the mustard. A crooked grin crossed Marisol’s face as she snatched it up. “You wanna really get into trouble?” she asked, unlatching the lid as she took aim.

The mustard hit Haddie on the chin and dripped down her neck. She jumped first with shock and then with delight as she grabbed the ketchup once more and returned fire. This was war! Gouts of red and yellow were squirted back and forth as Haddie leapt down from her stool snatching up a few rolls to use as impromptu grenades. With a viscous grin she bit the top from one and lobbed it over the counter to bounce harmlessly from Marisol's head.

“Oh yeah?” Marisol laughed as she grabbed a bun. “Two can play at that game!” Mimicking Haddie’s earlier move, she bit the end from the hotdog roll. Then, after spitting it into the air, she tossed the faux grenade back at the gleeful child. As Haddie ducked away, Marisol went back to the cabinet for fresh munitions. Ha - Hah!!” she shouted, emerging with both ketchup and mustard bottles. “Now you’re done for, kiddo!” She held the two bottles together, squeezing them to emit dual streams of fire upon the tiny foe.

Haddie scampered, wheeled and dove artfully to avoid the older woman’s pursuit. “Gotcha now!” Marisol chortled in triumph as she delivered maximum bursts from her double barrel….

“Now that,” Marisol said thickly, “is a hotdog.” She was sitting cross legged on the deck, munching contentedly upon one of the dogs in its’ “hand grenade” bun. Haddie was stationed behind her. The child had unearthed a huge jar of mayonnaise, which she was busily scooping handfulls for the purpose of sculpting Marisol’s hair into a series of wild shapes. “Too bad we don’t have pudding,” the mechanic observed, before catching sight of Sister Lyen. “Uh oh….I think we’re in trouble,” she gave a stage whisper to her tiny accomplice.

A parade of colors sprawled out before her, painting the galley from top to toe in condiments, but there in the middle of the mayhem, sat a cream-haired Marisol and a giddie Haddie like nothing out of the ordinary. Her brows arched at the mess, and the pair. The nun interjected, “In trouble? More like you are trouble! You two look like a pair of dastardly coyotes.” Lyen rolled up her sleeves as she surveyed the tables, chairs, even the ceiling which had elaborate and intricate savory artwork. Was that Haddie’s name in mustard?

Haddie looked up from the mayo Mohawk she had been sculpting onto Marisol's head and her eyes fixed upon the nun. She cocked her head to one side considering her next move and realising that the presence of Marisol meant that for once in her life she would not be dragged off and told how bad she was for just trying to have a bite to eat and a little fun. A sense of relief flooded through her as she waited to see what Marisol would do now.

“You see, Sister,” Marisol gestured with the stub of a hotdog, “Here’s how it is. You just stumbled onto the scene of the crime. That makes you a witness,” she giggled. “Which means the bad guys….us,” she waved toward Haddie and herself, “have to decide what to do next. Do we trust that you won’t rat us out? Or do we eliminate you?” She turned her head, the outsized mohawk swinging like a bird’s plumage as she regarded Haddie.

“Wait,” the mechanic’s eyes widened. “Haddie….she’s a lot more fair minded than me. She’s decided we should give you a fighting chance.” Marisol tossed a mustard squeeze bottle. Once Lyen had caught it, she deferred again to her partner in crime. “We good?” she asked.
“We’re good,” she grinned toward Lyen, before shouting, “GET HER!”

The fight was on again, dissolving into a three way brawl with changing alliances and numerous visits to rearm the combatants. Marisol’s new mohawk faired poorly, as did her coveralls and face. Her sides began to hurt from laughter, and the nun, who’d proven to be no slouch in the art of kitchen combat. But Haddie was the real pleasure. To see such a look of joy upon the child’s face made her mother’s heart sing.

Haddie dashed around with utter glee as she dipped bun grenades into the mayo pot and flung them round the room adding white to the red and yellow tapestry. Out of breath and out of condiments she eventually hid behind one of the tables and took in the sight of the two adults as they exchanged the last of the evening ammunition.

A feeling welled up in her tummy zipping up her spine to meet the tingle in her elated head to produce something both wonderful and terrifying. Tears streaming down her little cheeks she opened her mouth and laughed. An out loud childish giggle of utter delight.

It was a carefree sound that was both familiar and forgotten. It wrenched at her soul and she covered her mouth in shock. Her tear brimmed eyes peering upwards at the two stunned women who stood head to toe in all of their hilarious goopy war wounds looking down at her, before they could say anything, she ran.

Lyen was speechless; the sound of Haddie’s joy and sorrow had been wrapped up in a single syllable. A sideways glance revealed Marisol’s mouth hung open, a torn-in-half hotdog sliding its way down her shoulder. Even Ly was frozen to the spot. Haddie was in the wind faster than the nun could say Sarsaparilla, the ghost of her shocked expression left in her stead. “Well, that’s a sound I never thought I’d hear,” she half-chuckled before resting her chin on her mustard-armed fist.