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It's Supposed to Cook Like That

Posted on Wed May 16th, 2018 @ 7:47pm by Danaea & Captain Calvin Myers

Mission: The Junk Heap
Location: Forward Lounge

Calvin decided to stop in on the Forward Lounge before he made his way down to engineering to check in on his new chef. He was surprised that Starfleet had given him any civilian passengers at all, and idly wondered what sort of trouble they'd be. Still, it was his job to be Captainly, and he'd already seen her logging maintenance requests with Engineering to fix her environmental controls, so the least he could do is make sure she was settling in.

Stepping in through the door, he noticed immediately the chill in the air and shivered a bit, then the odd, acrid smell of melting plastic took to his nose, "Hopefully that's not dinner?" He called, looking around for any activity he could find.

"Did ya not see the sign?" The ladle banged as Danaea dropped it against the pan, splattering the green concoction onto her apron. Frowning, she promptly gave up, abandoned the soup, and bustled over to the bar area.

"We're closed until further notice," she said without looking up, her attention focused on wiping down the stain.

"Yeah, I have a habit of going pretty much wherever I want," Calvin replied, smirking a bit. "Comes with being the CO of the ship..."

"Ha!" Danaea glanced up from her apron, surveying the CO with sharp eyes.
"You Hewmons are all the same, sticking your noses in, unafraid of getting bitten. Must be why I like your species; good business acumen!"

After a few more furious attempts at removing the stain, she threw down her cloth and sighed heavily.

"As you can see here, Captain- Myers is it? I have my hands full here. You might have noticed a slight-" she breathed purposefully, rendering a cloud of mist, "-imbalance in the environmental controls. The cold may be good for my vegetables but it's killing my joints here."

"Yeah, it's a little... below normal levels," He agreed with a chuckle. "Engineering working on it? I'm heading down there after I leave here and I can put some wood on the fire if you need me to," He said.

Danaea scowled sardonically at the Captain, making her way behind the bar.
"What I need is a stiff drink."

Seemingly from nowhere, a small glass vial appeared in her hand. With an expert flick of the wrist, she revealed two shot glasses from beneath her sleeves; within seconds, she had them both filled with a deep red liquid.
"Rigellian brandy, warms the bones. Sample?"

Danaea slid the glass towards Myers, her expression still stormy.

"Technically, I'm on duty," Calvin replied with a smirk, "But nothing else about today has been regulation, so why not," He said, taking the glass up and leaning it toward Danaea slightly, "Cheers?"

Danaea stood for a few seconds, eyeing the Captain with those beaded eyes of hers, before relenting and mimicking his toast.

"So Captain," she downed the drink in one, smacking her lips together in satisfaction, "What's the deal with this ship? And I'm not just talking about the rust." She was of course referring to its crew; Danaea had been sure to read the files (at least those she could access) of every senior officer aboard the ship. This was not Starfleet's finest batch, not by a long shot.

Calvin followed suit and nodded, "We're a last ditch effort," He said, offering her the shot glass black and clearing his throat, "I think most of us are on Starfleet's shit list, and this is our chance to not be," He explained. "I think this ship is a last ditch effort too," He said with a wry chortle.

"Well," Danaea said with gusto, drawing herself to full height, "It's a good thing I'm here to keep the quality levels up!" She looked about her momentarily, "I would offer you Tarkalian omelette but my eggs..." How in the hell was she supposed to explain how three eggs had seemingly disappeared leaving nothing but a few shards of blue shell on the shelf behind them?

"I've still got some of targ rashers from yesterday if you're peckish. I would have served them hot but-" she glanced dolefully at a patch of frost covering the surface of the nearest table.

Calvin chuckled a bit at that, "No, let me have your work at it's best, huh? I already had a bite this morning. I'll come back once things have settled," He told her, brightly. "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?"

"Uh-huh, what about compensation for lost business?" Danaea said, her tone suddenly clipped. "It's a well known fact that a hungry crew makes for bad algorithms. Half my stock was blasted this morning when the temperature dropped below freezing. I've got a business to run here, Captain, I can't feed your crew if I have to wade through snow - I'm a hundred-and-three!"

"I'll get it fixed, ASAP," Calvin said, holding up to hands as if to ward off an attack, "I promise. Environmental controls first, food storage next, and then whatever else you need that's critical, okay?" He offered.

"Hmm..." Danaea fixed the Captain with a beady stare momentarily, before softening her stance, "All right. But don't take too long, Captain, or I might be forced to activate the replicator."

She shivered inwardly; there was nothing that said defeat more than having to serve replicated food. There was something... unnatural about it, almost as if it shouldn't be consumed by organic life forms. Her life and career relied on her ability to cook original recipes, not simply carry a plate made from energy particulates to it's patron.

"You really don't want that to happen, Captain."

"I'll try my best to make sure that doesn't happen," Cal said with a grin as he headed back toward the door. "Let me know what else comes up, okay?"

Danaea grunted a farewell as the Captain departed from the room. Complacent man, she thought as she shuffled back into the kitchen. With complacency came lenience, and lenience meant a blind eye to some of the more controversial activities of the lower decks. It was the same in business, the big cats at the top were far too busy to concern themselves with the opinion of sheep. But what if those sheep came in the form of three blue eggs mysteriously vanishing from her kitchen during the night?

For once, it seemed, the complacency of the big cats would be of use to her...


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