NX Mission: The First Casualty

[Dylan Torngate]

D'Vid took a deep breath as he was hearing what the Captain had to say about the situation.

A smile grew on his face. "Yes, that sounds brilliant," he said. He was feeling relieved. Soon he would be able to make some real plates. "Cause I was going to make tomato paste on plates and call it dinner," he with a little charm.

"I understand your under a stress. Is there anything I can I do help sir?" he asked. "You can talk to me. You know I am here to help you."

[Mess]

"Excellent, Chef." he said, with a smile. Right now he was in a rather carefree manner. "I look forward to eating the... tomato concoction. I'm sure that you'll be able to post a fine book on the subject later... "1001 Tomato Tortures", maybe. 'Sure Fire Ways to make your crew become meatitarians'" he said, before correcting himself. "Then again, I'm not sure the Vulcans mind this all. Their diet is incredibly green-rich."

As he heard the offer, he smiled. "Thanks, Chef. I'll let you know if anything comes up." he said, and grabbed a second plate and serving of the concoction for the Major.

[Ready Room]

=/\=On my way, then.

[Mess Hall]

Tom found the captain. He sat down across from him and began.

"Sir, I've been thinking. I know, kinda dangerous in my position," Tom said with a grin. "I think cross training your Tactical guys in our department would be good in case my boys need deployed with an away team. Any objections?"

[Mess]

The Captain nodded, thinking. "Good Afternoon to you too, Major." he said, a slight poke to the man to lighten up.

"I'd rather have you think and not die than not think and die, so I'll give you a pass this time." he said, with a slight grin on his face. "But on your idea... Have you consulted the Chief of Security on this? He might want to have some say in how his men are used." he said, with a raised eyebrow. It was no secret that MACO and Starfleet Tactical couldn't stand each other... and this close to the mission being over, Charles didn't want to have to bust down more ranks or hand out more discipline.

[Leonard T. Scott]

[Mess]

The Captain nodded, thinking. "Good Afternoon to you too, Major." he said, a slight poke to the man to lighten up.

"I'd rather have you think and not die than not think and die, so I'll give you a pass this time." he said, with a slight grin on his face. "But on your idea... Have you consulted the Chief of Security on this? He might want to have some say in how his men are used." he said, with a raised eyebrow. It was no secret that MACO and Starfleet Tactical couldn't stand each other... and this close to the mission being over, Charles didn't want to have to bust down more ranks or hand out more discipline.

[Mess]

"Now, you know we're going to need a moderator," Tom replied as he gave a hearty laugh. "Harmon can be a tad defensive. He should know I have the best interest of the ship and crew in mind."

He recalled previous times dealing with Harmon. He hated pulling rank. It wasn't his preferred command method, but was quite effective at it when the time called for it.

"If the Nausicaans' decide they want to have a go at us, we'll need more than just my boys. God forbid if the Klingons decide to wage war with us. I'm just glad we're on decent terms now with the Xindi. Earth lost too many good people to that," he paused thinking of Major Hayes, a close friend, "I personally would like to put aside our differences, but I feel the ball is in his court. Anyways, any reports on threats to our slice of the galaxy?"

[Lena Atwood]

[Mess]

Kaeti entered the mess playing with the rank pin at her neck. She went over to the counter and grabbed herself a plate and glass before sitting nearby at the window. She took a bite and carefully contemplated their time out on the Lexington whilst looking out of the window. Well that's what it appeared like, she was discretely listening in on the captain and her CO.

[Dylan Torngate]

[Mess]

"Now, you know we're going to need a moderator," Tom replied as he gave a hearty laugh. "Harmon can be a tad defensive. He should know I have the best interest of the ship and crew in mind."

He recalled previous times dealing with Harmon. He hated pulling rank. It wasn't his preferred command method, but was quite effective at it when the time called for it.

"If the NausicaansÁ¢â,¬Å½ decide they want to have a go at us, we'll need more than just my boys. God forbid if the Klingons decide to wage war with us. I'm just glad we're on decent terms now with the Xindi. Earth lost too many good people to that," he paused thinking of Major Hayes, a close friend, "I personally would like to put aside our differences, but I feel the ball is in his court. Anyways, any reports on threats to our slice of the galaxy?"

[Mess]

"Well I outrank both of you so I think I can handle my own Chief of Security and you, Major." He said. While in reality they both knew that if it came down to a fistfight the Major would come up on top, Charles' tactical background could at least buy him some time- it'd be fun.

"And you can be a tad offensive. You're MACO." he said. "What's the phrase, The best defense is a good offense?"

He stood up and walked over to the wall. He pressed the button. [Captain to Lieutenant Harmon] he said into the voicebox. If the man responded, he'd continue. [Meet me in my mess, at your earliest convenience.]

He motioned to the Major. "If we're going to have this discussion, let's have it where there is a few less things for you two to throw at each other."

At the question of reports, Charles frowned. "Nothing. We've not heard a single thing, no data, no alien species... I'm pretty sure this partta space is abandoned." he said, shrugging. As he walked to the doors of the private mess area, he passed by Corporal Atwood. He nodded with a smile. "Corporal." he said, as he reached the doors and passed through them with the push of a button, taking up the seat facing away from the windows so the Major and the Chief of Security would be on opposite sides of the table. Time for some tricky negotiations...

[D'Vid]

[Mess]

Kaeti entered the mess playing with the rank pin at her neck. She went over to the counter and grabbed herself a plate and glass before sitting nearby at the window. She took a bite and carefully contemplated their time out on the Lexington whilst looking out of the window. Well that's what it appeared like, she was discretely listening in on the captain and her CO.

The Chef watched the  female playing with her rank pin. The man could see that she was hoping to hear what was goin on. The Chef walked out from the back, to the front. He had a rag to wipe down the counter top.

He edged himself to her. "Hey, there. Is your collar bothering you. I can help you to adjust it," he told her. That was his opening to small talk to her. Would she take the bait of an El-Aurian?

[Solluk]

[Engine room]

Scanning the walls of electronics and machinery, she sighed.  It was far up on the wall, almost taunting her by its inaccessibility. "Of course the one fuse I needed to check just HAD to be on top. Why couldn't it be #23 or some other one that I can reach?"

Looking around for a crate or something else she could step on to get to the fuse, she noticed Bota finishing up his checklist. "Hey, Bota, could you help me out?  Fuse #76 blew and of course I'm a bit too short to reach it."

Bota laughed.  "Eshu was listening to my thoughts!  I was just thinking to myself how much more stable the Lexington is compared to the Mercury."

Smiling, he moved closer to her position and reached up to pull the offending fuse.  It was part of the electro-plasma conversion network aboard ship.  The highly charged plasma from the warp core or fusion generators was stripped of excess electrons at various points, the resultant electric charge being used to power the various ship systems.

These fuses kept any power surges from destroying the systems that lie past the conversion points.   Unfortunately, that meant there were a plethora of fuses to monitor and replace at regular intervals.  And sometimes, despite best intentions, the fuses would fail in spectacular fashion.  More than one brave officer or crewman had been maimed in battle when a power surge blew a fuse like a hand-grenade, sending fragments of control consoles flying about like New Year fireworks.  Some day, Star Fleet would figure out a better system.  In a hundred years, the idea of crew members being injured by exploding consoles would be a thing of the past.

Bota turned the fuse ninety-degrees and pressed the release button, pulling it from its socket and handing it to the Commander.   She was an attractive woman, with reddish hair, caramel eyes, and freckles adorably peppered across her features.  In other circumstances, he might have attempted a dalliance.  That could never be the case here, however.  Any such advances on his part would be extremely unprofessional and inappropriate.

"If you're carrying the spare, I can screw it in for you," Bota suggested.

"Incidentally, Commander, I had an idea about adjusting our intermix ratio at high warp.  If you're free for lunch, I thought we might head over to the mess hall and look over some figures while we eat.  I heard the Chef might be serving those Fried Green Tomatoes, again.  I am ever in awe of what he can do with a single vegetable."   Bota frowned, "Or is it a fruit?  I can never remember."

(tag)

[Lena Atwood]

The Chef watched the  female playing with her rank pin. The man could see that she was hoping to hear what was goin on. The Chef walked out from the back, to the front. He had a rag to wipe down the counter top.

He edged himself to her. "Hey, there. Is your collar bothering you. I can help you to adjust it," he told her. That was his opening to small talk to her. Would she take the bait of an El-Aurian?

Kaeti was somewhat taken back by the chef, she turned from her window seat to she could see him.

"Would you believe there was an entire module in my degree about altering rank pins?" She smiled. "Who'd of imagined that? And anyway, I'm waiting for the Sarge."

[Kinley Garrison]

[Engine room]

Bota laughed.  "Eshu was listening to my thoughts!  I was just thinking to myself how much more stable the Lexington is compared to the Mercury."

Smiling, he moved closer to her position and reached up to pull the offending fuse.  It was part of the electro-plasma conversion network aboard ship.  The highly charged plasma from the warp core or fusion generators was stripped of excess electrons at various points, the resultant electric charge being used to power the various ship systems.

These fuses kept any power surges from destroying the systems that lie past the conversion points.   Unfortunately, that meant there were a plethora of fuses to monitor and replace at regular intervals.  And sometimes, despite best intentions, the fuses would fail in spectacular fashion.  More than one brave officer or crewman had been maimed in battle when a power surge blew a fuse like a hand-grenade, sending fragments of control consoles flying about like New Year fireworks.  Some day, Star Fleet would figure out a better system.  In a hundred years, the idea of crew members being injured by exploding consoles would be a thing of the past.

Bota turned the fuse ninety-degrees and pressed the release button, pulling it from its socket and handing it to the Commander.   She was an attractive woman, with reddish hair, caramel eyes, and freckles adorably peppered across her features.  In other circumstances, he might have attempted a dalliance.  That could never be the case here, however.  Any such advances on his part would be extremely unprofessional and inappropriate.

"If you're carrying the spare, I can screw it in for you," Bota suggested.

"Incidentally, Commander, I had an idea about adjusting our intermix ratio at high warp.  If you're free for lunch, I thought we might head over to the mess hall and look over some figures while we eat.  I heard the Chef might be serving those Fried Green Tomatoes, again.  I am ever in awe of what he can do with a single vegetable."   Bota frowned, "Or is it a fruit?  I can never remember."

(tag)

[Engineering]

Grace pulled out a spare fuse from her jumpsuit pocket and handed it to her fellow engineer. "Here you go. Thanks a ton." "  As she watched Bota screwed in the fuse, she couldn't help but feel just a little inadequate. How she ever managed to get herself promoted to commander just a few months prior still stunned her sometimes, and she was still getting used to the idea of leading her crew.
"That sounds great. I'd love to look over whatever you've got over lunch.""   She smiled as they began making their way down to the cafeteria. Pausing a moment, she pondered with a mischievous grin. "Y'know, technically, tomatoes are fruits, but I certainly hope that chef D'vid doesn't start putting them in the fruit salads."

[Jettis Jyur]

[Bridge]

Matt hated survey missions. He really hated them. He was more likely to die from boredom on survey missions than in a firefight.

Displaying all the all the finest qualities of a Starfleet Officer, Matt was sitting at his station on the bridge with his legs up and his eyes closed. It wasn't like he really needed to do anything. They were simply heading back to Starbase after a long and boring mission. Hopefully, something would happen sooner or later.

[Bridge]

Morris sat at the helm, like he ways did.  The ship was on auto pilot.  But it never hurt to keep an eye out.   He wish the same could be said for their security chief.  But Morris was a patient man.  He waited for the for the chief to get relax and comfortable.   Then let out a series of loud coughs.

"Sorry chief, must be dust in the air." He said, keeping a smile down.

[Bridge]

Matt let out a loud grunt when he was disturbed by the pilots coughs. "Yes, dust on the most advanced space ship in the fleet," Matt groaned sarcastically, wishing he had something to throw at Morris.

[Bridge]

The Ensign sat at the Science station, keeping his eyes peeled for anything on the scanners, debris or ships. But so far, his shift had been every word except for 'exciting' or 'eventful'. So his job consisted only of watching the amazing view, and fiddling with the ring on his finger in boredom.

The only thing that disturbed him was when someone coughed loudly. Smirking slightly, Jettis quirked his brow in amusement, sitting back to watch the two.

[Solluk]

[Engineering]

Grace pulled out a spare fuse from her jumpsuit pocket and handed it to her fellow engineer. "Here you go. Thanks a ton." "  As she watched Bota screwed in the fuse, she couldn't help but feel just a little inadequate. How she ever managed to get herself promoted to commander just a few months prior still stunned her sometimes, and she was still getting used to the idea of leading her crew.
"That sounds great. I'd love to look over whatever you've got over lunch.""   She smiled as they began making their way down to the cafeteria. Pausing a moment, she pondered with a mischievous grin. "Y'know, technically, tomatoes are fruits, but I certainly hope that chef D'vid doesn't start putting them in the fruit salads." [/i]

[Mess Hall]

With the fuse secure, Bota followed the Commander to the mess hall, chuckling at her fruit salad comment.  "No danger of that," he replied, "I don't think the poor Chef has had a fruit for his salads in two weeks."

In fact, the lack of food variety on the ship had recently become a concern.  The protein selection had been significantly thinning out.  Breakfasts had become much less enticing with the dwindling supply of fresh eggs and bacon.  Bota was pretty sure they had transitioned to powdered eggs and re-constituted cheese for the omelettes some days ago.  The ham slices were almost certainly from a can.  Well... at least he liked tomatoes.

"Good Morning, Chef," he greeted the beleaguered meal-maker as he entered the hall, "I heard you had fried green tomatoes, today.  I pray that it is true."  Bota took a tray and lined up in the queue to receive whatever repast the man had on offer.

(tags)

[Jada]

[Hydroponics]

Leaving Mahak to his work, d'Jada lidded her jar of wing-slugs and sealed the barrel, taking a moment to make sure that none of the fat, slow-flying gastropods had escaped. After all, they could easily devour the tomato crops and infest the ship. And leaving Earth with a plague of wing-slugs would win the Orion Colonies no favours with the humans. ''Good hunting.' she told Mahak and departed for the Mess Hall.

[Mess Hall]

Entering the kitchen, seeing the cook, D'vid, had stepped out, d'Jada set about washing the slugs (first rinse to get most of the mucus and grime off, second rinse with hot water, shake, stun the slugs, third rinse with cool water) since the humans hated doing it for her. She pinched a fresh tomato (since there seemed to be no green vegetable matter to go with her slugs), sliced and diced it (with deadly knife skills), and served herself tomato avec slug, with a side-order of cyanide pills and other necessary nutrients she needed to survive on a human diet.

The Orion woman stepped into the Mess Hall proper. With her pheromones and green skin, and the reputation of Orion woman already preceding her, d'Jada tended to turn heads every time she entered the room. With her plate of yummy slugs, in all the colours of the gastropod rainbow (brownish-green to purplish taupe to bruise black), crawling over and chewing on her tomato, she tended to turn stomachs as well, especially when she ate. d'Jada thought the two effects cancelled each other out neatly.

She looked for a table with someone who wouldn't mind company. The senior officers were having a meeting; she wouldn't bother them, she wasn't here to spy on the humans, despite some hints from senior OSN staff that she keep her ears open. 'I still have some wing-slugs,' she offered generously to Bota.

[D'Vid]

"Would you believe there was an entire module in my degree about altering rank pins?" She smiled. "Who'd of imagined that? And anyway, I'm waiting for the Sarge."
Á,« Last Edit: Today at 03:12:16 AM by Lena Atwood Á,»

The male El-Aurian smiled to female. "Sadly, I did not know that. Perhaps you can share more later on another time," he said to her. He had heard the swoosh the mess hall doors open. More crew members were coming in for lunch. That was good. He was still in business.

"I see. I am sure Sarg. Wang will be along soon enough. Seem I have more hungry crew members. Excuse me as I attend them," he said nodding to her as he moved to the others with the wet rag in his right hand.

"Good Morning, Chef," he greeted the beleaguered meal-maker as he entered the hall, "I heard you had fried green tomatoes, today.  I pray that it is true."  Bota took a tray and lined up in the queue to receive whatever repast the man had on offer.

"Greetings Lieutenant M'Bala," a huge smile grew on the Chef's face. So happy he slapped the other on the shoulder with his left hand. "Glad someone appreciates it. And yes we have plenty. Do you care to have one serving or two?" he asked. The Chef walked through the door to be back in his service station.

The Orion woman stepped into the Mess Hall proper. With her pheromones and green skin, and the reputation of Orion woman already preceding her, d'Jada tended to turn heads every time she entered the room. With her plate of yummy slugs, in all the colours of the gastropod rainbow (brownish-green to purplish taupe to bruise black), crawling over and chewing on her tomato, she tended to turn stomachs as well, especially when she ate. d'Jada thought the two effects cancelled each other out neatly.

"Good grief!" D'Vid cried out. "How many times I told you keep your meals out of the crew meals! Please move along," he tried to wave her out of the kitchen. "Authorized personal only allowed. That is me! Thank you!'

Now, D'Vid was disgusted his sink was used for cleaning slugs. A hard days work of preparing to his best ability. The female Orion was told over and over. Not to come in his kitchen. Good grief, she was pretty but it was his kitchen. He does not go running around playing with her console she was on duty.

Heck he had to wipe the sink twice. It was not right. It was his kitchen. Why someone had to do that?

After cleaning, he grabbed more green and red fried tomatoes for the crew. He poked his head out. "If you need any thing else, I try my best, but no slugs in my kitchen, Ensign. Thank you!"

[Solluk]

[Mess Hall]

Entering the kitchen, seeing the cook, D'vid, had stepped out, d'Jada set about washing the slugs (first rinse to get most of the mucus and grime off, second rinse with hot water, shake, stun the slugs, third rinse with cool water) since the humans hated doing it for her. She pinched a fresh tomato (since there seemed to be no green vegetable matter to go with her slugs), sliced and diced it (with deadly knife skills), and served herself tomato avec slug, with a side-order of cyanide pills and other necessary nutrients she needed to survive on a human diet.

The Orion woman stepped into the Mess Hall proper. With her pheromones and green skin, and the reputation of Orion woman already preceding her, d'Jada tended to turn heads every time she entered the room. With her plate of yummy slugs, in all the colours of the gastropod rainbow (brownish-green to purplish taupe to bruise black), crawling over and chewing on her tomato, she tended to turn stomachs as well, especially when she ate. d'Jada thought the two effects cancelled each other out neatly.

She looked for a table with someone who wouldn't mind company. The senior officers were having a meeting; she wouldn't bother them, she wasn't here to spy on the humans, despite some hints from senior OSN staff that she keep her ears open. 'I still have some wing-slugs,' she offered generously to Bota.

Posted by D'Vid
"Greetings Lieutenant M'Bala," a huge smile grew on the Chef's face. So happy he slapped the other on the shoulder with his left hand. "Glad someone appreciates it. And yes we have plenty. Do you care to have one serving or two?" he asked. The Chef walked through the door to be back in his service station.

[Mess Hall]

Bota laughed as the Chef clapped him on the shoulder.  "Two, of course," he responded with a smile.

After collecting a plate of the tomatoes and all else that was on offer today, Bota sat down with the Chief Engineer at one of the hall's round tables.  Before long, a young Ensign joined them.  Her skin was very green, and her ears were not pointed.  As she drew near, Bota could not help but notice her curves.  Her lips.  A sensual way about her.

Orion.

He had heard of them, and he had heard there was at least one of them serving aboard the Lexington, but somehow he hadn't met her before now.  Even on such a small vessel, and even after three months aboard, he occasionally found himself bumping into someone new.

Bota took a breath and steeled himself.  Orions had evolved to produce some kind of chemical that tended to arouse most humanoids.  He wasn't clear on the details.  He did know that the sudden attraction rising up within him wasn't real.  It was just the product of biochemistry, and it probably got quite tiresome for this young lady to have men falling all over her every day.  He vowed to do better.

Dipping his gaze to study her plate, his eyebrows lifted slightly.  Slugs?  Interesting.  Bota was from Africa, where the eating of worms, slugs, insects, and arachnids was much more common than in other parts of Earth.  Slugs were high in protein, and had saved many a hungry soul lost in the jungle.  On the other hand, some slugs could carry deadly parasites, and some could collect toxins... but it seemed unlikely that this young lady would offer him poisonous food.

"Well," Bota said, "if you don't mind..."   He reached out with his fork and stabbed one of the sliced-up slugs.  He studied it for a second, and then popped it in his mouth and began to chew.

After chewing thoughtfully for a moment, he swallowed the bite and washed it down with a drink of water.   "I do believe that is quite possibly the most vile thing I have ever tasted."  He laughed.  "But I appreciate the experience.   My name is Bota.  Bota M'Bala.  I don't think we've met."  He held out his hand to shake hers.

[Catrin Maddux]

[Corridors -> Mess Hall]

Rho yawned and tousled her short red hair with both hands as she shuffled along the corridor. She hated to oversleep, but if she was going to accomplish anything today coffee was necessary. Supplies were low enough as it is, but she had managed to get the chef to stash some aside for her. Privileges of rank, she supposed. Although if she had to force down another tomato based meal, she was going to shove those tomatoes straight into Subcommander Mahak's pointed ears. He had to be deriving some sort of pleasure out of this, the hobgoblin.

[Mess Hall]

Once she arrived in the Mess, she saw crew morale was as high as ever. She snorted to herself quietly. It was like being in charge of unruly school children instead of Starfleet's best and brightest. Since the Chef was busy, she let herself into the kitchen to fix her own coffee. It was better not to upset him, especially since it already seemed like he was in a mood. The kitchen looked like a warzone, butchered pulped tomatoes reigned supreme. She wondered if it were possible to develop an allergy to the sight of the blasted things.

[D'Vid]

[Mess hall...]

Pulling his head back into his kitchen. His peripheral saw something move in the corner of his kitchen. He swung his head to the individual. Red hair! Red was here to get her coffee.

"Hey Flame!" D'Vid voice was loud but not to a yell. It was a nick name he placed on her. It was cause of her hair color. "I see you gett-" D'Vid got cut off.

"Hey, Chef what's you hiding in there?" a pale, ensign male poked his head in the window. "Oh!" He saw the high rank officer and quickly pulled his head back. The Ensign had started to pre-plan to butter up to the cook on the coffee. Funny, the Ensign was going to bark up the wrong tree.

D'Vid tossed the dirty rag at the Ensign and he hit the kid square in the face. The Ensign quickly took the rag off and tossed it back at the Chef. The Chef caught it with his right hand.

"So, how's the coffee?"� he asked. He had figured the coffee beans was getting stronger and stronger as the stock was getting low. "I hope its good." He was little nerved up cause she walked in his kitchen. He had decided to hold his grudge cause who she was and he was lucky to call her flame head.

May the creators of starships they come up a better resources for food. Possible replicators, but the real taste and flavors will be missing. He would be out of work. Nope! Rather beat a replicator over a being Chef! Cooking is a better way to live and the replicator is...well...not the best.