A new kitchen to lay claim to

Posted on Fri Sep 6th, 2024 @ 5:23am by Crewman Patrick O'Malley & Captain Zseeq

1,414 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Short Treks
Location: Bridge

Patrick hesitated on the threshold towards the bridge. Were civilians even allowed on here, on this ship? Now every captain was tolerant towards that. But how else then, was he to serve the captain?

Tugging his tunic down, he stepped forward and quietly stepped down towards the command center. "Excuse me... Captain Zseeq?" Patrick queried uncertainly. "I'm Patrick O'Malley... I'm sent here to ah..be your chef, and caterer for official gatherings..."

Seated at the Captain's Chair waiting for an update on the away team, their shuttle having just launched, Captain Zseeq turned his chair away from the side station toward the new arrival on the Bridge. Having heard the introduction, the Deltan Captain nodded, "Welcome aboard, Mister O'Malley." He rose from his chair, "Please join me in the Ready Room." He looked over at the Tactical Station, "Lieutenant Thompson you have the Bridge."

The young Human followed the captain into his ready room, marveling at the size of it. "The mess does have a kitchen, doesn't it?" He inquired carefully, "I mean, I have to prepare your meals somewhere... And those for gatherings? Does this ship have a place to actually grow vegetables?" It was a firestorm of questions but Patrick as desperate to know if he had access to fresh food.

"That's a lot of rapid-fire questions," the young Deltan answered with a slightly nervous laugh. He motioned toward the chair opposite the Captain's desk, glancing briefly at the window and seeing the planet they were circling hovering below the Saratoga.

Taking his own seat, Zseeq continued, "To answer those questions: yes, the Saratoga has a galley available to you to assist with the preparation of meals on deck two, adjacent to the Officer's Mess that doubles as my Dining Room. Saratoga has both an Airponics and Hydroponics Laboratory that is used for growing fruits and vegetables. Worse comes to worse we have an Arboretum on deck six."

Patrick's eyes lit up at the mention of the galley and access to fresh vegetables. He sat down but couldn't hide his joy and enthusiasm. "Can I use it for anyone who wants a fresh meal now and then as well?" He asked eagerly, "you'd be my priority if course but I can't deny people fresh food. Replicated is just ..." He shuddered visibly. ".. horrible."

"Considering what it's made out of I don't disagree," Zseeq added, shuddering at the thought. "As for me being the priority, I'm ok with the crew taking that responsibility from me. They do the work, I'm just the one that sits as a figurehead."

The human chef beamed at the man in sheer delight. "Well...I am technically your chef sir, I just don't want to deny anyone the opportunity to fresh food. But...." He hesitated. "If it's my kitchen...I don't appreciate others in there without my approval. I'm .. possessive and protective of my domain..."

The Deltan nodded, "I'm not entirely certain that we have anyone assigned to it with you."

"I can handle food service," Patrick promised, "but I'm still assigned as your chef sir, so having your dietary requirements and preferences would be extremely helpful." He smiled, his passion for food clearly visible in the way he held himself. "What's your favourite food?"

The Captain pondered the question for a moment, thinking about the various foods he'd had throughout his life and career. Most people would automatically go to a meal option of their homeworld, probably by default. He had considered some of the options of his people's homeworld, but he wasn't a fan of most of their options. Really he had spent little time on his homeworld and barely knew much about their cuisine, while knowing their culture well at least. With his father representing Delta IV to the Federation Council and his mother serving in Starfleet he'd spent more time with a cosmopolitan palate - and an intergalactic one at that - than a more domestic one. There was one food that he had had many times and loved it each and every time.

"Hasperat soufflé," he answered after thought. "That's probably my favorite meal."

Patrick looked delighted. "If you pass on the recipe I can get to studying it. I've never cooked Bajoran food before and I don't want to mess this up. Are there any upcoming events I need to be aware of so I can cater to it?"

"Other than our meeting with the Admiral not really. I doubt he'll be wanting much of anything meal wise," the Captain remembered his former Commanding Officer fondly, but knew he was more likely to scream than enjoy a meal with them. This diversion to check on this world had changed the timetable and Dazad didn't like his timetables to be changed.

"Appetizers it is then," Patrick smiled. "With your permission I'll get started right away, unless there's anything else you need me to do?"

"Unless you can make the away team report in faster, then no," the Captain joked. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Could lure them with the promise of their favourite dish?" Patrick chuckled. "But if they're scientists, they're probably engrossed in their findings. My late husband was like that. So engaged in a dig, he forgot it was time for dinner." A hint of sadness washed over the young Human, even after all these years the loss still weighed heavy on him.

The Deltan paused a moment, looking at the new chef for the Saratoga, and wondered if he should probe further. Few knew it, but Deltans were both telepathic and empathic, allowing them to sense other peoples' emotions. He had rarely used those gifts, choosing instead to keep them at bay, but had them available should he ever need them. He didn't like to probe though as he always had viewed such an action to violate the Oath of Celibacy that his species prided themselves upon. It was true that he had experienced the occasional dalliance, his child was proof positive of that, but his culture also used their telepathic abilities in such an act. He tried not to break that oath (and frequently took medication to suppress the pheromonal effect his species could produce).

Choosing not to pry, "I've known many scientists like that over the years myself. You're right about their focus. I hope he ate from time to time."

"Well yes, I made him eat. I couldn't very well let him wither away could I? So I made sure he had at least breakfast and dinner." He studied the man as he spoke. "Before becoming a captain... what did you do? Surely, you weren't always a captain?"

"I've been here and there during my career. Started out my career out near the former Romulan Neutral Zone before getting transferred to the Cardassian Demilitarized Zone. I worked in Operations for most of my career before eventually becoming XO of DS12. This is my second command, my first was the Geronimo." He answered somewhat quickly and not going too into detail. He, conveniently, left out his family history and focused on his career. That was by design.

"I don't really know what operations does," Patrick confessed, "my husband was an archaeologist. A science man in heart and soul. I don't know much about starship operations, I just know it's my job to make sure people eat. Or rather....that you eat, sir."

Zseeq laughed, "Don't worry, most people on a Starship don't know what starship operations are these days. You'll fit right in." He wasn't kidding. Starfleet Command and the Academy had rushed the deployment of new personnel because of Federation Day. Rumor had it that there was going to be an accelerated track soon where personnel would be commissioned in less than a year. He switched from the smile to irritation, sighing at the thought now.

"Bridge to Captain Zseeq."

"Excuse me," he said tapping his communicator. "Go ahead."

"Lieutenant Thompson here. We're detecting the emergence of a storm cell near the away team's location, Captain."

Zseeq went back to business, "We'll have to continue this later. I look forward to learning what you prepare for our meeting with the Admiral."

"If you send me a list of his preferences and possible allergies I'll whip something up," Patrick answered, smiling happily now at having an assignment, "and I'll bring you lunch in an hour or so." With that, having taken the 'continue later' as a dismissal, the young chef left the ready room.
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