From the latest discussion, I suppose I can dig up this thing I did before my life suddenly became all work. I wrote something too, but then I gave crewmates to Quaslan and I think she only has robots, so I should rewrite those parts.
I can post something though, with the last part done by the author of the Pineapple Cake logs (and of many other scripts). Following the latter's advice, I revised the writing a bit asking chatgpt for help

Blang's voice echoed through the hall of titanium and steel as Old Dag Han stood before the shadowed throne where his emperor sat. "My friend," said Blang, "my upcoming visit to Weird Oul's sector will be extremely taxing—yet you insist on coming. Why?"
A few bubbles drifted up in Dag Han's brain tank. A speaker hidden in his chest crackled. "You see, Captain," he said, his voice laced with a hint of cheerfulness, "I discovered a new cuisine in that sector. It’s called Psitchen. Supposedly, it delivers the sensation of a full meal directly to the brain."
Silence fell over the throne room. Then, after a long pause, a single, gruttural chuckle echoed. Blang spoke again, more relaxed. "After our latest peace conference with the Pacekeepers—another one going nowhere—their Astarvoran cook made me want to scrape the spice off my teeth. I'm sure they hired him just to test my patience." Blang stood, his voice turning cold again. "They’ll pay for that, too. When the time comes. For now—make preparations. Bring a large bag... for the pamphlets."
"Then I’ll invite you to dinner once we arrive," said Dag Han. "I wonder if they can replicate the soup we used to have—back when I was still your first mate."
"It would be my pleasure," said Blang. But something in his voice made Dag Han pause.
"Is something troubling you, Captain?"
A guttural sound rumbled from the shadows—an acknowledgment.
"The Saffron Tournament will be held in a few days," Blang said. "On Crocus."