Kyle Edwardo Mostrovani spent years getting where he was professionally. It took years of study and dedication to detail for him to rise to the position of prestige he enjoyed. Kyle was head chef at Orbitali's, a -3.7 stellar restaurant in orbit around Procyon IV.
     For those of you unfamiliar with the star, it is also called alpha Canis Minoris, or the first counted star in the constellation of the little dog. It lies a scant eleven lightyears from Sol. It's an F5 star, meaning that it burns hotter than Sol by about a good thousand degrees Fahrenheit in the chromosphere. It's also a bigger sun, being a class IV, or a sub-giant.
     Thus the orbits of planets are further out than Sol, and Procyon IV was two point nine au from its sun, as opposed to the one point six for Mars, aka Sol IV. Procyon IV was about the same ambient temperature as Earth. While physics tell us that the solar heating should not make for such a warm planet, the naturally high carbon dioxide content in the atmosphere made a strong case for global warming.
     Kyle didn't pay attention to these details. He had slept through the introductory seminar during the final approach when he arrived by starship. He was one of those that didn't wake swiftly from deep sleep of interstellar travel. Kyle's mind knew of space quite well. He knew the particulars of eighty different planets, but none of them were in the local Procyon system. These eighty different planets were the source of the ingredients in the dishes he prepared in his kitchen. If touring his kitchen, one need merely point at a substance being prepared to get scientific name, common name, habitat, diet, planet density and gravity, atmospheric pressure and content, natural enemies, and more of the particular plant or animal from which the substance came, including that which complemented it in taste. Kyle could recite the particulars in his sleep.
     He could tell if any of the items in his kitchen were spoiled and unsafe for preparation. Some took only a glance, while others took a quick in-kitchen analysis. Kyle never touched the food until it was time for the final tasting. His cooks did that as he stood watching over their shoulders, giving advice as to when to turn, add, chop, remove from heat, etc. He knew his business and was paid accordingly.
     Kyle drew the envied -3.7 stellar rating. The old four star system had been dropped and replaced by a more familiar system that corresponded to stellar magnitude as was used by astrogation experts. The lower the figure, the brighter the star. Positive numbers were dimmer than the negative ones, so a negative rating was good. With the magnitude system, anything dimmer than a 3.5 was not visible to the naked eye. Thus, a 3.5 rating was a dump. In turn, there was only one restaurant that rated a -4.0 or better, and that was where Kyle had learned his trade. Thus his -3.7 was a superb rating. He drew dignitaries up from the surface just to dine in the restaurant where he ruled to perfection.
     Before his arrival, the establishment ranked a paltry 1.2. But with their station being on the major trade routes toward Sol, he was able to get most of the items he wanted even cheaper than on Earth, since most of the items were Earth bound. A few came from the far side of Sol and were more expensive, but these were a minority and not the most expensive.
     One did not travel to Orbitali's in order to stuff one's gut. One went to titillate the pallet. His meals were too expensive for gluttony. A plate of Trinthian squid with enclovs and shreeves ran about six hundred standards. That was enough to feed a family of four for three months on basic staple. But it was small in comparison to the transportation costs involved. Rather, his aim in setting up in orbit was to give the arriving dignitaries a view of the planet through the plastalloy window, and at the same time, offer them a treat of gastonomic delight, so far away from home. The owner of Orbitali's, Andrew Frensh, was tickled. He drew nice profit from the sale of the meals and a government subsidy that more than paid for Kyle's salary and the meals of the visiting dignitaries which ate there free of charge. They were well softened up when they reached the planet, and they left the system after dining again at Orbitali's again to ease the sting of the deal they had to cut to justify the trip.
     This gave Kyle the reputation he desired across the human sphere. This meant more future business and better standing among his peers. He was doing just fine, nary a hitch in his operation, until a man, or perhaps more accurately, his corpse turned up in a shipment of Huruvian clorts.
     What first puzzled Kyle to the package was the weight of the crate and the higher than normal shipping and handling. Naturally, when the body was discovered, he refused shipment. He never signed for a shipment until he was satisfied of the condition. He immediately ordered it sent back, but the driver refused to transport a human body without proper papers. Kyle reminded him that he had already done so. The driver called in the police before Kyle knew what he'd done. Andrew arrived moments after he switched the receiver to off, just as Kyle discovered what the delivery man had done.
     The police were quick to arrive, being on their own transportation system in the orbital station. A simple drop from the hub along the angular acceleration adjusted drop ramps could dispatch an officer to anywhere in the station in under a minute. The officer was a detective. Upon arriving, he legally shut the doors of the establishment. Andrew had to write off tens of thousands in unfinished dinners. His mind was working overtime, trying to figure how to cut his losses from other's wallets. Insurance, government recompense, law suits, and more were examined as the staff escorted everyone out, once Lieutenant Bringsom was assured that everyone in the establishment had been ID'ed by the security cams. There were many feathers to unruffle, and the staff did its job in its usual soft toned, calming manner for which they were hired.
     Then Bringsom pulled Kyle off on his own in the kitchen.
     "You didn't order this body, did you?"
     "Detective. . . ."
     "Lieutenant is my title, please."
     "Lieutenant, I do not cater to cannibalistic desires. I do not cook human tissue. Here is the order slip. You will see no human body listed on the invoice."
     "Oh. Well, he's certainly dead."
     "When can you have him out of here so I might have my kitchen back?"
     "Not so fast. I need to look for clues. This might take days."
     "Whatever for? The body came in the box. All the evidence is in the box. Take the box with you and study it. All the clues are there, not in the rest of the kitchen, you imbecile."
     "Now, Cheffy."
     "Head Chef Kyle Edwardo Mostruvani is my title, Lieutenant. Now get this body out of here. The Health Department will never approve the reopening unless it is gone. They will not allow food preparation with a corpse in the kitchen. The longer it is here, the greater risk of contamination to my other food items."
     "The corpse looks pretty fresh to me."
     "Naturally. It's been in a suspension capsule for shipping."
     "I can't be so sure about that. It could have been placed in there from here."
     "Lieutenant, ask any of the witnesses. The delivery man, my assistant chef, three of the waiters. All of us were here when the capsule was opened for the first time after being delivered. I never sign papers until I inspect with witness of my main assistant chef. They will all confer that the body was inside when it was first opened."
     The officer asked about several plates of the dozen sitting on the outgoing counter. Kyle huffed that it didn't pertain, but answered when the Lieutenant insisted. He described each different dish. Then the officer asked to speak to the witnesses, one at a time.
     First in was the delivery man. Andrew and Kyle talked to the staff, telling each to tell the full truth. Then Andrew went around from table to table and started polishing off the drinks that the customers hadn't finished. He didn't touch the food, having no appetite. Besides, he never ate off of a used plate for health reasons. The drinks were different, since no organism could survive in them. Carrying his own glass, he would swish a drink around the inside, then pour it into his own after a couple of minutes settling. The delivery man took quite some time in returning to the others. Andrew was quite drunk by then, so he spoke to Kyle, who was just getting off the phone.
     "That cop is back there chowing down on all the stuff on the serving counter. Thought you might like to know. He wants to see the owner next. He doesn't look too sober."
     "Andrew's not sober at all. Do you know what your phone call cost us? Not counting the damage to our reputation at being closed down. I mean just here and now. I sat and looked at what went in the cash register compared to what I cooked, a good thirty seven thousand standards. Add to that the food items that will spoil before we can open again and cook it, fifty thousand standards. Loss of business, half a million, minimum, very conservative. Probably a million or more. I think he has a right to get drunk."
     "Maybe so. Well, I'm going. I'll send word that you refused the shipment and that the police impounded it. That way, you can get your refund or whatever from the shippers."
     "Good. Then maybe we can sue them for punative damages. Somebody upstairs is going to be very honked when we send them the bill."
     The officer came out from the kitchen. "I asked for your boss."
     "He got drunk. I doubt that you will get anything from him. He didn't arrive until the police, you, were called."
     "What was this about the bill and honking?"
     "Your poor sense of judgment. Lieutenant, you should know better than to close Orbitali's. I told you to remove the body and let us continue operating, but you wouldn't listen."
     The officer selected a bottle of wine and opened it. "Great food you serve here."
     "It's your neck. I hope you know that you will catch heat for this."
     "Are you threatening me, an officer?"
     "I not nearly so stupid. I merely am pointing out a fact of life of which you are quite ignorant. The staff who witnessed the opening of the canister will tell you whatever you need to know." Kyle turned and walked toward the kitchen.
     "Don't touch anything back there." called Bringsom.
     Kyle went back to the serving window. He noticed that each of the plates at the window had been pilfered to some degree. He took a pad and started writing. When he finished, he returned and handed the pad to one of the waitresses. She began writing.
     The front door opened, and another officer entered. This one had more brass on his collar than did Bringsom, who greeted him happily. The new officer said nothing, but walked up to Bringsom and grabbed him by the lapels and tugged him irresistibly into the wine storage vault. Others followed in the front door and asked of the location of the body. Kyle pointed to the kitchen. In the door last followed a health inspector. Kyle greeted her personally. "Hello, Margarette. Nice to see you again."
     "Kyle, I'm sorry to hear of your trouble. Is this what pressure is doing to Andrew these days?"
     "This was not your ordinary crisis. We could face a loss of a million standards if word of this gets out. That's no small chunk of pocket change. We could lose our rating for a thing like this."
     "You said that the body was delivered?"
     "Yes. One of the food shipments. I naturally refused receivership and ordered it sent back. The delivery man refused to carry it without a permit and called the police. I would have thought that they would have sent over someone discrete, but they send over this clown instead. I guess the dispatcher didn't consult upstairs before making the assignment. He was here very quickly."
     "And he closed the place down?"
     "He acts like we killed the stiff. He wants to fingerprint the entire kitchen, for all I know. To top it off, he ran me off and started eating everything prepared in the kitchen. I was ordered out and had no control of his actions. I want you to know that I tried to do everything in my power to stay within the guidelines. Everywhere I failed or there was an infraction, it is attributable to the Lieutenant, if you overlook the delivery man calling him in the first place."
     "Don't worry, Kyle. We'll get this straightened out and see if we can't have you open for dinner shift. Hopefully, all you will do is suffer a small set back for lunch."
     "I don't know. It could have shattered our reputation. You know how we are about perfection."
     "Yes. If all restaurants ran as cleanly as here, I'd be out of a job. Don't worry, we'll get out a press release, blaming it all on the total incompetence of the officer. Do you have the names of those that were here? You do have vid-surv, don't you?"
     "Yes, and the officer made sure that everyone was ID'ed."
     "Good. I'll get the chief to send everyone an apology and a coupon for a free meal for two. I'm sure the government will be willing to pick up the tab, as well as cover your losses for lunch. And the ad campaign that will take effect if you suffer a loss of clientele won't cost you anything. This wasn't your fault, as I can hear from back in the wine racks. You won't suffer but a minor and temporary setback. I'd better get some coffee in Andrew."
     "Thank you, Margarette."
     "My pleasure, Kyle. I'll get with you once they remove the body. I'll see about a clean up crew being brought in, again at no charge."
     Kyle nodded with a smile. Then the second officer returned with Bringsom in tow by the tie. "Go on."
     "I want to apologize for my actions and my mistrust. I've never worked this section before, and not all the others are as reputable as yours. I want to apologize for disrupting the service of your customers."
     "Mistakes will happen, Lieutenant." The waitress to whom he had given the pad returned it to him. "By the way, your check."
     "Check?"
     "Yes." Kyle handed it to him.
     "But this is for over eight thousand standards."
     "Twelve dinners, six appetizers, five deserts, and a bottle of Lauran Ces Haute. That's a two thousand standard bottle of wine you just drank."
     "But I only tasted each of the meals and only sipped the wine."
     "I can not serve the meals to anyone else. You might be carrying an illness. Health code. Therefore, you pay for them when you eat from them. And the wine can not be recapped. Once opened, it is open. And you did complement me on the food, a sign that there was nothing wrong with any of the dishes that you tasted. Therefore, the bill is yours, Lieutenant. You should know the law that well. You surely don't take us for the type that pays police a little something on the side, like free meals. That would be unethical and illegal. We go strictly by the book here at Orbitali's. Our customers expect that from us. With what you've done to upset the cart, you can't expect us to add to the damage to our reputation. Oh, yes, a twenty percent gratuity for the waitress and fifteen for the bartender. That's from the total bill, not itemized. We do take credit cards, if your credit rating is sufficient to cover the check."
     "I. . . . I. . . . I. . . ."
     The captain clamped his hand on his shoulder. "Give him your credit card, Bringsom, unless you want to face felony theft. This pocket? Yes?" The captain lifted and opened Bringsom's wallet and fished out his credit card and handed it to Kyle. He went to the credit reader and returned shortly.
     "I had to discount your bill five hundred standards to keep from going over. But since you didn't finish the meals, I think that we can overlook it this one time. Sign here."
     Bringsom seemed totally reluctant until his captain said, "Statute 714, thievery of unoffered product. Minimum six years, and probably more, because you're well over the minimum amount for felony."
     Bringsom signed and was escorted out by the collar. The team in the kitchen emerged as if on cue and wheeled the body, still inside the canister, trailing out the door behind the two officers.
     "That was some move, Kyle. Did you see his face?" said Margarette.
     "Yes, and I loved every second."
     "Come on. Let's see what needs doing back here to get you open. Did any of the storage get contaminated?"
     "Not to my knowledge. Let me look at the temperature gauges and see if the doors were recently opened." He made a quick check. "No. They are cold like they should be when the doors have been kept shut. I guess he was too busy tasting our tablefare to snoop. That's a relief. I had nightmares about having to reorder from scratch. We'd have been closed a week, and on partial menu for a month."
     "Okay. A simple scrub down will do. Want the crew over to do it?"
     "No. I'll use my own. Breaking in a new crew for a simple scrub down is more work than using my own. It would be nice if the bill for their work went to the PD."
     "Don't you worry about money. With what you offer the Procyon system, money is really of negligible value. You leave the worries to us. You just concentrate on getting dinner prepared after clean up. We don't want you distracted with worries as measly as money."
     "I never knew that we were such favored concern."
     "Are you kidding? Kyle, since you came here, the trade balance has gone in our favor by eighty two per cent. We have gotten concessions that we never had before, we've opened new trade agreements allowing us to import things that previously unavailable to us here in the system. That includes not only raw materials, but technology as well. Kyle, you are our hero. You have netted this system over two trillion standards since you moved here two years ago.
     "People are coming here that never came here before, just to eat your cooking. Since they have to justify the travel, they make us deals that we like. You see, since we first noted the effect you started having on trade, we have gotten very tough-nosed down there, business-wise. They have to cut us a good deal if they are to have an excuse to get a return trip at company expense. Businessmen don't return to places where they strike out. Neither do dignitaries, and our treaties prosper just as well as the business end of things. In fact, they go hand in hand.
     "So you are good for us. And we intend to be good for you. You could be operating in filth in here, and I still wouldn't close you down. Not that you've ever given me reason for the slightest complaint. You run a model kitchen. The cleanest that I've ever seen."
     "That is because we charge enough to pay the cleaners what is too good to mess up by doing a haphazard job. We pay top dollar and let them know that the top dollar stops if we ever find reason to complain, no matter how small."
     "You run a tight ship. We like that. We don't ever have to worry about bringing outside visitors for demonstration inspections here."
     "Our clients like it too."
     "Yes. Part of your perfection. Well, I'll be going. When Andrew sobers up, get him to set up a running account of damages of this little affair. We'll see that you don't suffer for it. I'll get the other outside details handled for you."
     "Thank you, Margarette."
     "Just don't let what I said make you lax in your habits around here."
     "Me? Never."
     "Bye, Kyle. I'm glad you stuck the jerk with the bill. He deserved it and worse. Stupidity's such a bother." She smiled and walked back out to the front. Kyle followed a few minutes later, after putting away the meals that were still in the kitchen so that the area could be much less cluttered .
     He took out the money from the officer's credit card and divided it up evenly in two separate sections. He handed the bartenders their share and then distributed the second portion to the waitresses.
     "Well, there is a stove full of food back there that won't keep until dinner. Grab a plate and serve yourself. Oh, Henry, don't look that way. Okay, you may serve them, if it will make you happy. But tonight, dinner is on the government. Enjoy what only those fat pigs that think they deserve your loyal service get to eat. This afternoon, we are kings to enjoy our own concession. We can all say grace to Lieutenant Bringsom for his part in making this gratis meal possible. Bon appetite."
     The staff went to the kitchen and Kyle sat down next to Andrew who was showing signs of stirring.
     "Hey, things turned out better than we hoped."
     "They did?"
     "Yes. Andrew, I feel as if you should take some time off. You have been pushing yourself too hard to assure that the business end stays tight. What I just found out today, you don't need to be so worried. You can start taking it easier."
     "Why do you say that?"
     "We're a treasure to the system's economy. We'd end up rich even if we lost a ton of money in the process of running this place. Government and business will see that we never close our doors, if there is any conceivable way that they can prevent it. So start taking things a bit easier on yourself. Be more concerned about in house work and start letting others do your bookkeeping and the other things that are sapping your strength. If the services that we hire don't seem to come up with right figures, we just drop a few hints that things aren't doing so well with the new accounting system. I'm sure that we would see a sharp rise in profits in short time."
     "You think so?"
     "Andrew, I know so. Now go get in line and get some food in you before all that you drank winds up and hits your stomach."
     "I don't think I can make it to the kitchen."
     "Stay there. I'll bring you a plate." He got up and walked back to the kitchen, whistling.