The Cafe at the Center of the Galaxy

She came from a backwater world so spectacularly boring its inhabitants named it after one of their words for "dirt." Still, Terran Tandy's Soup & Sammie Shack had a reliable stream of customers. It wasn't on any of the "must do lists" for tourists to The Hub, but it was popular enough with station staff to do a steady business, especially for the second shift-change meal.

Like all of the shops and stalls on the Galactic Exchange Marketplace, the Soup & Sammie Shack was located in a climate-controlled zone appropriate for the planet it represented. Like all vendors on the GEM, Tandy wore the traditional garb of her species. In her case, that was a short-sleeved knit cotton tunic (usually black, occasionally white), and indigo pants of a heavier cotton weave.

The Soup & Sammie Shack's menu contained just two items: the soup of the day, and grilled cheese sandwiches. There were also two hydration options: chilled leaf water, and hot bean water. The soup changed every day, and there was a non-dairy spread that could pass for melted cheese among species who could - or would - never eat something made from the milk of another creature. But those were your options. Soup. Sandwich. Both.

The limited menu was partly a function of necessity. Tandy ran the stand entirely on her own. Between manning the grill and taking orders, it was almost too much for a species with only four limbs, two of which were exclusively for locomotion. Then again, the simplicity of the food was part of the appeal. In the GEM, most food vendors served their world's rare and exotic delicacies. The Soup & Sammie Shack had simple, unassuming comfort food on lock.

Nobody knew how Tandy had gotten to the GEM from her backwater world. Or how she had managed to finagle a permit to open the Shack. There was a rumor that she didn't have a permit when she opened. By the time it was discovered, the Shack was such an institution The Hub pretended the records had been lost and issued her a new one to avoid a fuss.

Tandy's arms were scarred with small burns. Mostly from working the grill or trying to maneuver a giant stock pot of scalding hot soup. If anyone noticed the other scars, the ones that couldn't be explained by the rough work of running the Shack, they never mentioned it. Her hair was always pulled back into a tidy bun in a net. She had the pleasant but businesslike mien of a woman who appreciated your patronage, but didn't have time for idle chitchat unless you wanted a burned sandwich.

Still, she was a good listener. Many a Hub worker spent their shift change meal standing at the counter, rattling off the story of their latest misadventure or heartbreak, while Tandy nodded along, carefully lifting the edge of a crisped piece of bread. Somehow, it seemed easier to talk to someone who you suspected was only half paying attention. She didn't give advice, but she also didn't judge people. Or if she did, it was silently, in the quiet of a mind fixed on filling the next order. 

One day a rare visitor from Tandy's world stopped by the Shack. Myrl, one of the maintenance worker who made a regular stop for leafwater and soup, noticed her stiffen up. But only slightly. 

"You gotta be kidding me," the Terran said. "Soup and grilled cheese? Here?" 

"If you're not gonna order I'm gonna need you to get out of the line," she said, in a voice that was pleasant, but not friendly. 

The Terran ordered Both, with leafwater. He stood by the counter, watching the woman from his homeworld work. 

"I don't get it. You managed to get off the planet. You make it all the way here, where you could go literally anywhere, do anything, and you decide to open a food stall?" 

"Mm hmm. Order up."

She pushed a container of food and a cup at him, and promptly moved on to the next customer. The Terran stood a moment longer, shaking his head and then wandered off. 

Later that day, Myrl told his berthmate Goer about the exchange between the two Terrans. Goer had been on the Hub longer than Myrl, and was often privvy to older, better gossip. Myrl had noticed the best gossip was like fruit distillation: it got richer the longer it sat around waiting to be shared. 

Goer bobbed their cranium as Myrl talked. "Terrans are mostly not like Tandy," they said. "They're aggressive, curious - get into all kinds of trouble." 

"So the other Terran thought it was strange she … makes food instead of trouble?" 

Goer bobbed again in affirmation. "Terrans have a word… adventure… Far as I can tell it means 'exciting trouble.'  My translater stumbled over it in a vid one time and I asked Tandy about it."

"What did she say?"

"That adventure made for good stories, but she'd had her share already. And she'd rather hear them than be in one."