<OOC: There is a kitchen behind the bar and cold storage enough for a weeks worth of dinners for the full compliment of 80.  Addition provided by your humble Captain, thankyou, alxnjsh!><br/><br/>Power was wonderful, especially in excess.  Who didn't want more power than they knew what to do with?  In almost every case, surplus made everyone happy.  This was not the case, however.<br/><br/>Certain systems were only designed to route so much juice.  With the source of power that streamed throughout the ship being twice that of normal, Dun had to think of creative ways to keep replicators, for one, running.  Who would have thought about cooking at over a 1000 degrees Celsius and why were they in charge of laying out his ship?<br/><br/>"Carn tú olc le fuíoll!"  With a loud bang, Dun's head emerged from the wall panel covered in sweat and bits of insulation.  He was rubbing his forehead and still mumbling as he grabbed for a tool and dove back in.  All he had to do was limit the power, it was so easy sounding...<br/><br/>The ovens and flat grill top behind the replicator bank had been easier to fix.  There was now a selectable and manageable array of temperatures available for cooking that would hopefully not melt hands or cookware.  And then there was the cold storage.  Well, it was cold!  That system loved extra power, alot.<br/><br/>The kitchen had been an addition that he had requested personally.  Nothing brought people together like freshly prepared foods and it lifted their spirits at the most impossible times.  It was such an easy matter to replicate what you needed, but sometimes a fresh layered cake for a birthday was just what the doctor ordered.  It catered to the special and homey touch that was so rare and hard to come by in space.<br/><br/>With a dramatic sigh, Dun closed everything up and dismissed the harried techs that he had commandeered for what had nearly been an all day job.  A day in which he never thought about nourishment till now, and gods, he was hungry.  Eying the replicator with suspicion, Dun walked up to it and coddled it with his tone, treating it like the wayward child he was well accustomed to.<br/><br/>"Shepherds Pie variant one."  The machinery whirred and clicked, sat silent for a second, whirred and clicked... He smacked the bulkhead above the machine.  "Cén fáth a bheidh i..." he said in a menacingly low tone meant only for the replicator that was about to meet its end if it did not perform appropriately.  Then the food materialized.  Followed by the aromas he was so accustomed to.  With a nod, he took the small dish to the bar and took a spoonful and analyzed it critically.  It appeared that his recipe was replicated to his specifications.  He cooled off the bite with his breath and sampled his handy work.  Not as good as home, but it would work.<br/><br/>There was so much activity going on ship wide that it was hard to find a place to relax.  With the work done here, however, there was nary a soul in sight.  Outside the hull he could see the Worker Bee's floating to and from the space dock with various parts.  This dock was in a geosynchronous orbit high above Mars and dawn was breaking planetside.  The blaze of colors was moving beyond comprehension.  He had sat and watched the sight countless times, yet he never tired of it.<br/><br/>He spared himself so few moments outside of engineering, and here, he was looking upon his home.  Taking it all in for a remembrance in the hard times, Dun relaxed as much as he could and continued to eat.