Twisted Soulship

Meanwhile, Somewhere else...

    Somehow, the kitchens survived the crash. Sure, the ovens had disconnected from the wall and the freezer wasn't cold enough, but most of the pantry was unharmed. Plus, the can opener was intact. 

    There was, however, one setback. Only two chefs out of the five had survived. One was counting broken plates, and the other was removing a dead body from underneath a capsized refrigerator. 

...That corpse will be important later in  the story. Maybe. Probably. Okay, probably not.

"They drop like flies, don' they?" The chef was referring to the countless dead passengers that were scattered about the ship. "...Like flies in the middle of a dust storm back home." To most humans, he would sound Australian. In reality, he was from a small planet a little ways away from Mars that no-one knew how to pronounce. 

    The plate-counting chef glanced up at the other and nodded. His expression was unreadable, namely because he was wearing an emotionless mask. He had a voice to match. "According to Mistress Mystic, one hundred dead and five fatally injured. And we lost fifty-seven plates, seventy-three bowls, and all one hundred and ten wine glasses."

    By "Mistress Mystic" he meant Makata. I probably should have mentioned this before, but she had the bizarre ability to sense the life force of anyone within a two-mile radius of her (Although, this was quite common where she was from). This was how she had realized that Lilac and Ebion were hiding away in the cargo bay. While taking a headcount, she realized that there were two extra lives on the ship, and they never left the cargo bay. When the ship crashed, Her prime objective was to keep the survivors alive, regardless of whether or not they were supposed to be on board.

    I should tell you the names of the chefs, but I can't quite remember. Being stuck in a satellite for twenty-seven years can do things to your memory.