The administrator's final words hung in the dusty air of the supply closet: "…a taste test."
The team just stared, completely speechless. They had been caught breaking the rules, and their punishment was… to be food critics? Pip looked down at the half-eaten, bland grey cracker in his hand, a new and very specific kind of performance anxiety dawning in his eyes.
The administrator's eye twitched. The messy situation was clearly giving it a headache. It took a deep, steadying breath. "This is not in the rulebook," it stated, as if to reassure itself. "However, a Form 9-Delta audit is the most efficient path to resolution. The charge is the eating of emergency rations. Therefore, the audit will be a taste test of those rations."
It produced a new, smaller clipboard that was somehow even more official-looking than the last. "We will now begin the Unconventional Audit, Appendix B: A Review of the Flavor."
