Before he had signed on with Artemis, Saul Horton had been a bounty hunter. Before that, he had fought for the Independents during the War. Before that, however—before the ten year spiral of violence that had taken over his life—Saul Horton had been a chef. Had the War not interfered, Saul would probably have been headlining his own restaurant on the Core. Unfortunately, upon retiring his guns a year ago, Saul had discovered that no one was willing to hire a Browncoat who had spent the last four years hunting and killing people, no matter how much they deserved it or how good a cook he was. And he was good. That was something Artemis' new arrivals were just learning.

Sir Anderson shook his head in amazement. "This is actually rather tasty." He glanced first at the muscle-bound cook, who was just taking his seat, and then at his nephew, who nodded in appreciation. "The chicken seems a little overdone, but I'm amazed one could find it at all this far from civilization."

Rachel saw Saul smile. He had the nobleman exactly where he wanted him. "Can't, least not what folks are willin' to part with. 'S just packaged protein, actually."

Rachel let a morsel of the Stir-Fried Protein a la Horton (Mona named all Saul's dishes for him, whether he wanted her to or not) slide down her throat and smiled. As humble as he was trying to seem, she knew this was exactly what he'd signed onto a passenger ship for in the first place. If he could catch the eye of some rich passenger, maybe he could earn a place on his staff and go back to the Core life he had been forced to abandon a decade ago. He'd tried the pitch several times before, but never on someone as rich or gullible as Sir Chen. From the gentleman's reaction, it looked as if, when the Chens got off Artemis, Saul might be going with them.

Sir Anderson was still staring down at the browned "meat" on his platter, moved, for once in his life, to speechlessness. It was Doctor Chen who finally spoke for him. "That's incredible. I never thought anyone could make that Blue Sun