Holiday memories

Posted on Sat Dec 11th, 2021 @ 6:52pm by Ensign Nuna Lepine & Kyle Cranston
Edited on on Sat Dec 11th, 2021 @ 6:56pm

Mission: Mission 5 - Babel
Location: Mess Hall
Timeline: Day 272; 1430 Hours
Tags: Writing Challenge
797 words - 1.6 OF Standard Post Measure

The smell of beef stew and fresh baked rolls filled the galley as music played in the background. Adding seasoning to the stew, Cranston took a moment to look out at the mess hall, donned in his typical white t-shirt and white pants normally worn when he cooked. Many of the crew preferred his cooking to the resequenced garbage as he referred to it. That stuff was not food. He had recovered from his coma only two weeks ago and what he had been informed of lately was mind numbing, yet he felt sorry for missing those first few weeks since being lost in deep space. But now he was here, and he would do his best for the ship and crew, including making the best meals he could.

Nuna went with the flow of individuals making their way along the line of modernized steam tables, her face somber, void of emotions. Internally, though, some smell had triggered a memory of a holiday dish she once had. It was a memory of dried fruit, honey and almonds, Irish cream and those lyrics she never really understood but always came easily off her lips.

"Hey there, ensign. How are you today," Cranston asked, smiling.

Nuna gave the ship's chef a perfunctory nod, and was about to leave it that, when some part of her subconscious nudged her to d9 more than that.

"The selection you have prepared is exemplary, chef," she remarked Even with the young scientist's sing-song accent, with its barely detectable British overlay, Nuna somehow made her observation sound monotone.

"Well I am the best cook aboard this ship," he boasted. "But thank you. You know you can just call me Kyle," he shrugged.

Nuna simply nodded before continuing down the steam line.

"So, are you Science? Or Medical?" he questioned, noticing the blue trim on her uniform as he donned oven mitts and moved to pull a fresh tray of rolls out of the oven.

Nuna's left eyebrow arched marginally. She had thought the requirements for "small talk" had been fulfilled. Apparently, they were not.

"Science," Nuna answered, before elaborating. "I am trained as a generalist, though I have practical experiences in applied life and earth sciences, as well as advanced degrees dealing with mathematical modeling of biological systems and related subjects." Nuna paused before asking "Yourself?"

"Culinary currently, though I did dabble in the Engineering arts for several years--even made Chief Engineer aboard the Earth Defense Ship Mars," Kyle explained, setting the tray of fresh baked rolls in the line. "Careful, rolls are still hot," he warned the others, taking his oven mitts off and tossing them onto a shelf underneath.

Nuna gingerly picked up one of the proffered rolls with her fingertips, dropping it on her plate, before continuing down the line. The mess hall had begun filling up in earnest, A bearded enlisted man walked in, singing "the snow turned into rain" before returning a wave and joining a group of enlisted at a table in the corner.

For the moment, Kyle had a chance to relax as the two junior enlisted crew who had volunteer or been volunteered by their superiors to help serve food to the crew. "What? No turkey?" came the complaint from a crew member that entered the mess.

"You want Turkey, then go and find me one," Kyle replied as he reached into a cabinet, grabbing a Starfleet Field Ration labeled "Sliced Turkey." "Until then, you can have this," he tossed the package at the crewman, who caught it and looked at it in disgust.

"Ugh!" he complained. "Hell no."

"Then shut up, get in line, and enjoy the best food on this ship," Kyle ordered before returning his attention back to Nuna. "So, just taking a break from shift or are you off duty?"

"Off duty," Nuna answered, as she finished loading her plate. She paused before adding somberly, "Thank you again for the meal you have prepared."

"Is everything ok? You seem like you have something on your mind," Cranston asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Just getting my evening meal, Lieutenant," Nuna replied, giving her a tray a small heft. "Again, an exemplary meal. I will allow you to tend to your other patrons." With that, Nuna made her way to an empty table while other crewmembers took her place at the serving line.

'Lieutenant?' he thought to himself. 'Did I get activated?" he watched the woman leave and take a seat alone. He shrugged and turned his attention back to the kitchen, and letting the woman eat her meal. It was obvious she wasn't the social type--hell she seemed almost vulcan-like in her demeanor. However, the vulcan-like demeanor did fascinate him. What would cause a human to behave like a vulcan?