I was replacing the air intake filter when I heard a faint beep from my Analyzer. Oh, please no… I held my breath as I checked the screen, but it didn’t make the medium priority ticket disappear. The food heater had died again. For the 32^nd time today. Over half of my day had been spent just walking back and forth to that dining area as it kept breaking.


    This frustration is giving me a headache… Okay, truth be told, the dull pressure in my head couldn’t even really be counted as a headache, just as an annoyance. I closed the air vent cover and went once more to the second level.


    The cook scowled at me as I came in. He said, “That thing needs to remain running during supper.”


    “Sorry, sir. There are no replacement parts on the ship to fix it.”


    He went back to cooking as he muttered, “Likely story. Can’t wait until Steve is back on his feet, at least the things he fixes remain fixed.”


    It was a good thing that the cook hadn’t been looking at me or he surely would have seen the angry indignation on my face. I quickly concealed it, but I hadn’t been this angry in a very long time. My rage simmered through me as I went to the food heater.


    Of all days for this thing to keep breaking. I really wish that Steve had been up and responded to this ticket. I am also positive that this cook will mention the numerous tickets to Steve the next time he comes through here.


    There wasn’t anything to be done though. It was the connector that needed replacing, and of course, it was a special thing that was only used with this type of heater. Even the odd oblong fuses were unique; no other machine used them, nor were there any in stock.


    I had even walked to the Medical Bay to ask Steve if there were any parts hidden on the ship that may not be showing in the inventory. There were not, and even my Analyzer didn’t know of any way to safely bypass the connector and fuse.


    I had even brought a small bottle of special cleaner for electronics and had scrubbed the connector, but it hadn’t made any difference. I had tried dozens of things including swapping the fuses between two different connectors, but it was that one badly-corroded connector that was the problem. The worst part was that this connector was the main one, so if it went down, the whole thing died.


    That gave me a small idea though. I quickly checked the logistics on my Analyzer before pulling out my screwdriver, wire cutters, and some other tools. It took me about ten minutes, but I managed to switch several of the connectors themselves around.


    The troublesome one was now directly – and only – responsible for the big soup pot heater. I had jerry-rigged two of the other connectors together in its place to handle the higher level of power to the main heater, and they would also channel any excess power to the one smaller heater that now lacked its own personal connector. The bad connector was capable of handling more power than the others, which was why I hadn’t switched it out earlier.


    There. Even if it dies, the cook can just heat the soup on the stove occasionally. Steve may be upset since this is not ‘proper’, but if this jerry-rigging works, then it is better than coming down here every fifteen minutes. I turned the machine back on and used my Analyzer to check the temperatures for a few minutes.


    I turned the soup heater down a tiny bit and its power reading stabilized somewhat. The smaller heater was only getting a low level of excess power, so it was less than half as warm as the others. How can I turn this to my advantage…


    I wandered over to the cook. “I moved the worn-out part to the soup warmer and it is a bit cooler than before, but it seems to be working. A side effect is that the fifth heater is now just an appetizer warmer for things that are best served slightly warm.”


    To my surprise, the cook stopped chopping up the meat to look at me, intent interest in his eyes.  “How much cooler?”


    “Quarter of the original temperature; it won’t go any warmer, but it can be turned down further if required.”


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    “Hmmm… There are a few things I have been wanting to make, but that food warmer could never be dialled down far enough and it always got too warm…”


    He seemed lost in thought, so I quietly left.


    *    *   *


    I finally finished cleaning the food warmer in the Maintenance closet on level two and wheeled it back into the dining area. At this point, I was seriously glad that I had been the one maintaining similar appliances in the assistants’ dining area. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have wanted to eat the food for fear of lethal food poisoning.


    It had taken the special degreasing tools ten passes to remove the buildup. They were supposed to clean heavy buildup in one pass. I wheeled it back and carefully positioned the heating table in the exact same spot it had been in previously before bolting it down, as was the policy in case the artificial gravity failed. I also reconnected the wires that allowed the cook to monitor the temperatures from a small computer in the kitchen.


    I was just getting to my feet as the cook left the kitchen for the first time and came over to me. “The soup heater did fail every hour or so, but turning it off and then back on did the trick. That fifth heater is exactly what I needed for the more delicate foods. It worked perfectly. The dish I had on it received nothing but praise. For that, please take this.”


    I took the small bag in surprise. “Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to…”


    He waved my response off as he turned to head back into the kitchen. The package just barely fit into my belt pouch, so I stuck it there before I made myself scarce once more. I had left the jerry-rigging in place since I doubted that the cleaning would have made a sufficient difference.


    The cook would probably have his lukewarm heater until we got the replacement                     parts when we docked. Steve would certainly be on his feet by then, so he would undoubtedly take the ticket that would generate when the part was marked as in-stock.


    I really didn’t want to contemplate his reaction when he saw the rather unorthodox electrical job I had done. I also hoped that the cook wouldn’t be too put-out when the food heater was properly fixed.


    It was getting late at this point, and I headed to my room as I looked forward to finally relaxing. I opened my door and paused before saying, “Just why did I give you full access to my room?”


    Cynthia was lying on my bed reading a book that she had pulled out from under it. “Because my books were here and you were tired of letting me in whenever I got tired of reading whatever I was reading.”


    I sat down on the bed beside her and pulled out the mystery package the cook had given me. I peered inside at the half a dozen pale pink and blue golf ball-sized objects. I pulled one out and looked at it. Cynthia glanced over. “What is that?”


    “Very good question…” Either the cook had slipped me some delicacies from the Bridge crew’s table, or I had sufficiently annoyed him and he was trying to poison me.


    I pulled out my Analyzer and scanned the odd object that happened to smell quite delicious. My trustworthy gadget reassured me that it was an uncommon dessert, one which few cooks had the time or patience to make. It also told me that it had not been poisoned.


    Good enough for me. I took a cautious nibble of the bready object. The interior was creamy and practically melted in my mouth. Wow. No wonder the cook got compliments on this one…


    I passed Cynthia one of the treats. She sat up and cautiously tried it before her eyes widened in surprise. “Ohhh… Where did you get this, and how can we acquire the rest of the box?”


    I rubbed my forehead lightly. “The cook gave them to me for finally fixing the food heating table in the Bridge’s dining area. Unless you wish to sneak into that cook’s kitchen, you won’t get any more. And I am certainly not doing it for you; he was very meticulous about sharpening those knives of his.”


    “That is too bad. I saw the average price tag on them when you looked them up, and they are way out of reach of my pocketbook.” She noticed me rubbing my forehead and asked, “Headache?”


    I sighed. “Not really a headache. It occasionally feels like there is a bit of pressure at the front of my mind. Uncomfortable, but it is getting better.”


    She got to her feet and tugged my arm. “Come on, a quick scan by the medics in the Medical Bay won’t hurt, and I have never known you to get headaches before.”


    I resisted and remained sitting as I leaned backwards. “It is probably just from when I blacked out. It is disappearing, so give it a few more days.”


    “What? You blacked out?! Why didn’t you tell anyone?”


    Whoops. I forgot about her lack of knowledge of that little detail. I had avoided mentioning it to anyone and they had never asked. I tried to play it down. “I wasn’t out for long. Besides, you were more tired than I was after you followed me around all afternoon.”


    She set her hands on her hips, not impressed with my stubbornness. “That is beside the point. Blackouts in space are serious. We are going to the Medical Bay right now, or I am calling and telling them that you blacked out.”


    She certainly knew how to threaten me as well as bribe me. Going quietly for a ‘check-up’ now or have the medics drag me down to their area by force. I reluctantly got to my feet as I muttered, “That is blackmail.”


    “And very effective, which is why it is still used. Let’s go.”


    I grabbed another one of the treats and followed her with a faint sigh. A check-up wasn’t actually a bad idea though. Most spaceships made them mandatory after any stressful emergency or whenever they left port.


    If there was anything wrong, the scanner should detect it, even if I had to wait until we reached a planet to get it treated.