"The moment I walked in, I spotted three problems."
Doram's voice rang through the mess hall. It was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable authority that instantly drowned out the din.
He strode over to the serving hatch, swept his gaze across the counters piled with food, then held up three fingers.
"First, which bastard in the cook squad came up with this pie? Sticking fish heads in it?" He pointed at a huge baking tray beside the hatch, where a bizarre-looking pie sat.
The crust had baked to a crisp golden brown, but a row of fish heads stuck out of the top, their eyes wide and their mouths gaping.
Doram frowned, disgust written all over his face.
"Are you trying to give the soldiers nightmares before they even go into battle?"
Stifled laughter rippled through the mess hall.
"Second, there's not enough food. Bring out more!" Doram swept his gaze over the counters, dissatisfaction in his voice.
"Today is supposed to be a treat for everyone. Who's going to fill up on this little lot? Bring out everything in storage! Steaks, bread, fruit, serve up everything you've got! Let the lads eat their fill!"
The laughter in the mess hall turned into cheers.
"Third, bring out all the booze and smokes you've got stored!" Doram swept his hand through the air, his voice brimming with rousing enthusiasm. "Today, enjoy yourselves! That's an order!"
As Doram's words fell, the entire mess hall erupted.
The soldiers of the Colchis 48th Regiment pounded the tables in excitement, the thumping mingling with whistles and cheers in a sea of noise.
Then they rushed the hatch again, surging like a tide toward the delicacies and fine drinks that had just been brought out.
Delicacies that, on other planets, only a Planetary Governor