By then, they had realized that they had put so much love into the shop, they had forgotten about having children to take over the business. Developers began to inquire. Some even offered a fair price. But Mrs. Thamavuong would look at their big donut and cry. Their entire lives were in that donut.
Then one night, the Thamavuongs received an email from a woman named Lan Tran. Ms. Tran said that she wanted Starrgate Donut because of their big donut.
The sale was completed almost immediately. There was no bargaining—they named a price, and this woman agreed. Even better, she promised that Starrgate Donut would keep selling donuts and shine like a beacon into the night.
The Thamavuongs spent three weeks with Lan and her family to teach them their basic operations and how to run their equipment. Then they handed their treasured recipe book and keys to Ms. Tran and retired, full of good memories and good American currency, to Laos and their beloved Vientiane.
Once they left, Lan put the recipe book away. Instead of cooking, she had her crew digitally convert and store two dozen of each type of donut the Thamavuongs had made. These reference donuts would then be quickly and virtually perfectly reproduced by the ship’s replicators. The result? Cake donuts would always be colorful and pretty. Yeast donuts would be invariably golden and soft. No surprises, no worries.
Eventually, her crew might learn to make donuts as the Thamavuongs did, but for now, Lan’s duty was to their safety and their mission.
Because donuts were not the sole reason why Lan Tran and her crew were on this planet.
Lan strode past the kitchen and opened what had been the door to the cleaning closet. But instead of mops and buckets, behind it was a new shiny elevator leading down to the recently completed lower level, which now housed the control center, research laboratory, sick bay, and living compound, as well as an underground hangar for their starship.
Here at Starrgate Donut, Lan and her family would safely wait out the fall of the Galactic Empire, continue their work, and live undisturbed, as long as—as Mr. Thamavuong stressed—they gave donuts to the police officers for free.
“Captain.” Markus Tran saluted as she entered the research lab.
“Lieutenant. How are the modifications coming?”
“The donut is smaller than ideal—but it is nothing we can’t address. Please note the modifications I’ve made. With your approval, I will begin implementing them immediately.”
Lan looked over the plans and nodded. Her son had become quite the engineer, hadn’t he?
“What about power?”
“As predicted, preparing this complex depleted over sixty-two percent of our power reserves. It will be at least three months before they return to normal levels, but our day-to-day operations should not be affected. However, there is a greater concern.”
“The stargate?”
“Yes, Captain. Even at one hundred percent, our ship’s main reactor would be far from adequate. We need to find an external power source, but this civilization’s energy production falls short by several orders of magnitude.”
This was no surprise. After all, this planet hadn’t yet harnessed fusion, let alone point singularities or antimatter.
“I’ve been working on a solution to that,” Lan said. “For now, continue fabrication and low-power tests. You may also divert ten percent of the ship’s power when we are not running the replicator.”
“Understood, ma’am.”
“That will be all.”
“See! He called her mom!”
“No, he said ma’am.”
“He said mom!”
The twins rushed toward her as the elevator closed behind them.
“Edwin! Windee! Didn’t I tell you not to run in the halls? Your brother is tuning the warp field. And why aren’t you at your posts?”
“Sorry!” they said in unison.
“So, you two, what is all this about?”
“We wanted to know—” Edwin started.
“That now that we’re off ship, should we call you Mom or Captain? I wanna call you Captain,” said Windee, saluting.
Lan saluted back. She tried not to smile.
“Very well, Ensign Windee.”
“But sometimes can I call you Mom?” Edwin said. He grabbed her waist and held on tight.
“Oh, Edwin … Settling on one name will be difficult, won’t it? What matters is that we’re together, and safe. And that means no more running through the halls. We don’t want anyone to get hurt, right?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Aye-aye, Captain!”