Bean, beans, good for the heart

<snip>
“You're cruel!” Jacky said, watching everyone drop to the ground with multiple thuds.
“Wakey wakey!” Justin shouted. “We've got a valve to fix on deck 211!” Justin said. 
“Oh god, it's him!” Said Cass, as her eyes flickered open.
<end snip>
Seymour grumbled as he tried to pull his torso back up and into the wheelchair. This hadn't been a great day for him, he was still covered in sludge and now had the indignity of waking up on the floor with some commoners.
A strong robotic hand grabbed him by the collar and tugged hard, picking him up off the ground. “Oh my, gosh... err...”
He was lifted to eye height with Garr Bedge, who just glared at him. “Need 'elp you 'orrible 'umin?”

Seymour's vocal chords were all but strangled by his collar being pulled so taught, but he managed to squeak out a “Put me down, put me down!”
Bedge dropped him onto the chair, and Seymour checked his throat. “You've stretched my suit you ham-fisted numbskull!”
“Looks ruined already.” Said the simulant. “Smells like sewage.”
Seymour winced. “You might well be right, it'll take more than dry cleaning to get this smell out, but that's no reason to manhandle me!” Niples pushed his chair backwards away from Bedge. “He's a menace, and absolute menace.” He turned to Jay, and Phil. “Why haven't we flushed him out into space yet?”
“I'm 'ere to serve ya.”

“Serve us? Like some clumsy robot butler?” There's no way I'm letting you serve me anything. You probably can't even serve tea without crushing my finest china teacups into powder with those great big mitts of yours.
Bedge looked down at his feet, looking upset in the only way that an incredibly melancholy killing machine could.
Seymour clapped his hands with some sort of misplaced authority. “Well you heard the pervert. We're heading towards a meteor shower too fast, and you need to fix a valve of some sort. Get one with it, or the Blue Dwarf will have more holes in it than a block of Appenzell  cheese... often enjoyed with a glass of Sangiacomo chardonnay... mmmmm....” His stomach started to rumble. “What was I saying again?”

“What are you going to do?” Phil asked.
“Ahh, well I'm going back to my quarters to read a literary masterpiece and listen to some classical opera music.”
“No you're not.” Said Jay, stepping forward.
“I beg your parden?”
“If we're all going to fix the ship, you can do something useful and cook us all a meal.”
“What? But I'm disabled!”
“You can cook perfectly fine. Here, take this big fellow with you for some help.” Jay pushed Garr Bedge in Seymour's direction, who loomed over him.
“Fine.” Seymour said angrily. “I'll make you the most exquisite meal you've ever tasted! It'll be c'est magnifique!” He kissed his fingers.
“Remember we've only got baked beans.” Said Jay.
“Oh.... yes. That might be a problem.” Seymour said. “I'll add some herbs. It shall be the best baked beans you'll have ever tasted.”
The team were walking off towards the stairwell for Deck 211, leaving Seymour with Garr Bedge.
“I can stir beans.” Boomed Bedge in his gravelly tone.
“Does he have to stay with me?” Seymour looked the creature up and down. There's no mistaking he was a killing machine, but looked reasonably harmless at the moment. The team had disappeared, leaving only Jacky Kong, who clearly looked like he didn't know what he was doing.
“Ahh, hello.” Seymour said as he saw him stood awkwardly. “Just come out of stasis have you?”
Jacky nodded. “Need some help?”
“Yes, I need you to stop this big fellow from ruining my feast.”

All three of them caught the Xpress-lift to the Promenade where they visited the small corner shop. It was unusual to see a giant simulant placing tins of beans into a handbasket. At the checkout a nervous-looking giant rodent announced a price in dollarpounds which launched Seymour into a rant.
“Are you telling me we have to pay? I'm making a meal for the commanding officers onboard this ship, remember laddie that this is OUR ship, and you're just some vermin that decided to evolve when we were in stasis. We're in control here, not you, m'laddio.”
“Err... I'll call the manager.” The rat said, and pressed a button which lit up his checkout number.
“Oh this is ridiculous! I'm the Managing Director of the JMC you know.”
“What's the jey-em-see?”
“The company that made this ship.” The rat's expression was blank. “The ship we're on. The Blue Dwarf.” The rat shrugged. “You... do realise we're on a spaceship don't you?”
The rat didn't quite know what to say. “The manager'll be here soon...”
“Oh for heaven's sake!” Seymour lost his temper. “See this guy here?” He pointed to Garr Bedge. “He's a simulant, he can rip you apart without before you could blink. Isn't that right Mr Bedge?”
“Err...”
“Isn't that right Mr Bedge?” Seymour repeated with more emphasis.
“Oh, er... YERRRR!” Garr said with a deep growl.
“Now break something.” Seymour ordered. Bedge picked up a tin of beans and threw it at the ground.
“No, break something of THEIRS!”
“Oh, right. Er...” He picked up the till and smashed it down on the counter. “Take that!” He said.
“Good.” Said Seymour and picked up the tins of beans in a plastic carrier bag, then out of the corner of his eye saw a senior rat approaching with a manager's badge. “It's been jolly nice talking to you. Tatty bye!” and they quickly exited before the manager reached them, Seymour muttering about 'the subservients should always know their place'.

Later, they all stood in one of the converted cargo bays around a table preparing a large bowl of baked beans. Seymour added a pinch of herbs and spices, and tasted it with a spoon. He wanted it to taste exquisite, but unfortunately still tasted like baked beans.

“This just won't do.” Seymour complained. “Mr Kong, would you mind awfully popping down to the arboretum to fetch some fresh herbs? You'll probably encounter some evolved lizards called the Huzzards, but they're mostly harmless. Unless they chase you with spears, in which case just pick some herbs and run. But don't forget the herbs!
Foolishly, Jacky agreed, and disappeared.

Garr Bedge looked ridiculous in his floral apron and pink neon gloves. He stirred the beans, not stopping until all the tomato sauce had boiled away and they were burning onto the bottom of the pan.
“No, no!” You're supposed to take it off the heat, not wait until they've burned to a crisp!” Seymour yelled.
“Never cooked before.” Gedge said dryly.

Then something plopped into the vat of beans. And something else fell into Seymour's wheelchair, silently piercing a hole through the seat. Then followed the noise of air escaping through a pinprick in the wall.

“It's the meteor shower!” Seymour said. “Those morons obviously haven't slowed us down yet. Meteorites are hitting us like bullets!”
“I got an idea.” said Bedge, who started spooning the dry ruined beans into the tiny holes in the bulkhead, sealing the gaps.
“Jolly good, it might be inedible, but it's doing' a dandy job on those microfractures!”

<OOC - Will the team repair the brake valve on deck 211? Will anything distract them? Will Bedge seal all the fractures? Will Jacky find some herbs or be killed by the savage Huzards? >