Hope you like it

Posted on 24 Nov 2014 @ 8:22pm by Commander Allyndra illm Warraquim & Lieutenant Olsam Mott

5,433 words; about a 27 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 4 Allyndra's quarters
Timeline: MD-20: 2000hrs

ON:

The kitchen that Allyndra had installed in her quarters was ridiculously small. Though she had a senior officer's quarters there was not quite that space for more than the bedroom and a living room. It was near the windows just across from the small dining table that the cooking area had been installed.

Allyndra loved it for she could glance from the holographic cookbook to watch the stars as she worked. She was busy at work now, and though she wore what amounted to a flight dress, that light mid-thigh simple dress, she had on a traditional bib apron.

The stars went by with that odd blue to red shift due to the warping of space. It was like a doppler effect and was always fascinating. One had a real sense of going someplace not like a Fold Ship in which you were here and then there. The spatter from one pot caught her attention and she pulled her attention back to what she was doing. It would no good to have the lobster bisque get burned. The cooking was a challenge to her for she could just taste a little bit and eat virtually none of it and yet the art appealed to her. It was something to take her mind away from cares.

The food would not go to waste, for she had invited Mott over for the evening. She had explained her newly found hobby and asked for him to taste and give pointers. He would be her critic. That was one goal, the other was that she was frankly lonely and she knew she should talk to Lamar. There was little stopping her now but she wanted to do this for him and make sure it was right before inviting him over. Mott was just the kind of person though to fit the bill, he was jovial and he enjoyed his meals. She knew he had an excellent pallet and had sent the invite with the admonition to give his opinion.

There was grilled bacon wrapped figs, brandade de morau, roqquefort and carmalized onion tarts and escargot beignet for appetizers, then tuna nicosie for a salad, along with the lobster bisque and the chestnut with creme frachie soup. After that there was Andouille and potato crepes, roasted maple orange turkey, steamed mussels in vermouth and filet mignon ala bordelaise for the main. For desert she had prepared chocolate grand marnier crepes, callissons with meringue and glace au pain d'epices.

Of course there was Port, a wonderful Burgandy, and of course replicated Champagne as well as cafe au lait and her own favourite cafe mocha. Everything seemed to be going well and she turned to check that the table was properly set.

Olsam practically floated down the corridor toward the CMO's quarters; he thought he smelled bacon - that most delicate of delicacies - and it was pulling him like a ship caught in a gravity well. The closer he drew to the door, the more foods he could pick out: cheese, onions, chestnuts, tuna. By the time he reached the door itself, he was pretty sure he had a good idea about the entire menu, and it had set his stomach to rumbling. He'd specifically skipped his second lunch today, an absolute rarity, in order to have a blank canvas for the meal.

The Bolian took his role as official taste tester quite seriously and arrived in appropriate attire: a dark suit cut in the style of Bolarus IX with a large apron that looked more like something a coroner might wear than a dinner guest. But you never knew what would be on the table, so it was better to be prepared than get Rartalian squid ink all over your clothes. He cradled the bottle of Saurian brandy he'd brought along as a gift in his left arm and reached out to press the door chime, hoping that a few appetizers would already be prepared and waiting for him.

Allyndra heard the chime and checked quickly that nothing would boil over and hurried to the door and opened it. "Olsam! Please, come on in!" Allyndra said joyfully.

"What have we here?" She asked about the bottle.

"Oh, just some Saurian brandy," Olsam said almost absentmindedly, handing the bottle off to her and looking past her slight body toward the small kitchen she'd installed. "I don't think it's really practical for you to drink it, right? But I thought you might appreciate it since people use brandy in cooking so often. It makes a really nice glaze for ham."

"Thank you, it was unnecessary though. I appreciate your company and most of all your discriminating pallet," Allyndra ushered him toward the table and then on a whim gave him a small peck on the cheek. There was she decided, no formality of hierarchy here just friends. "Have a seat, and let me get the appetizers. You can give me your impressions while I finish the main course."

"Oh, okay," Olsam said, trying to appear modest and casual as he moved toward the table. By the time she'd turned back to the kitchen area, he nearly dove at the chair and wedged himself into the waiting seat. He rubbed his hands together in excitement and anticipation before grabbing the waiting napkin, snapping it expertly in the air, and tucking it into the top of his shirt. He spent a few moments arranging it perfectly across the apron-like garment he'd worn then grabbed up the utensils. "I'm ready!"

Allyndra made sure everything was fine and then fetched the appetizers as they were called in her cookbooks. "I have grilled bacon wrapped figs, brandade de morau, roqquefort and carmalized onion tarts and escargot beigne. I do hope they will suffice, so far I have only gotten into the Art of French Cooking as it is considered a classic." She set each dish down one by one and then opened one of the wine bottles and poured two glasses. This she could have, the rest would be for him only. Allyndra took the seat across and sat down and then lifted the glass, "To our health and hopefully good taste. I feel like a blind person making a painting." She took a sip and then waited for Mott to sample the appetizers and give his judgement.

"To health and good taste," Olsam said, raising his glass to hers in turn. He both sounded and looked distracted as he eyed the appetizers, trying to decide which ones to go after first. He went for the roquefort and onion tart, naturally, because a smelly cheese is next to impossible for a Bolian to resist. As he prepared the dish on his saucer, cutting it into two perfect halves, he kept one eye on the other appetizers and one eye on her. "I love French cuisine, it's one of the biggest reasons why I chose to settle down in Crecy-la-Chapelle. Of course, that makes me a harsh critic."

He tried to put on a judging face as he took his first bite of the tart and chewed very slowly. The second half got stuffed in his mouth before the first had even been swallowed, and he continued to nod his head with approval throughout.

"Very good!" he pronounced, reaching for the escargot. "Fresher roquefort will help in the future, but it's just impossible to find in the Lyshan system." Olsam grinned at his joke and popped one of the escargot beignets in his mouth. Tactlessly speaking with his mouth full, he continued on with his criticism. "These have a lovely texture, but I think the taste could be improved with relish or chutney of some sort. Maybe something tart and vinegary." Before moving on to the remaining dishes he picked up the glass of wine to cleanse his palette of the snail taste. "What made you decide to begin with French cooking? Or even cooking in general? Not that I mind, of course, because I seem to be benefiting, but from a personal standpoint it seems like an unusual choice - you can't eat the leftovers!"

Allyndra listened and wished she had grabbed a PaDD to make notes but tried to file the comments all away. At Mott's comment she laughed. "I know it does seem silly right? I am not sure why in general, just well perhaps being more exposed to the smells and it keeps me busy. As for French, I have been told and read it is considered one of the more haute cusines to master." Allyndra said and then added, "I read someplace the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. I had a relationship developing but it seems to have cooled, so..." Allyndra felt embarrassed bu the admission. "I thought maybe this might kindle it again"

Olsam lifted an eyebrow and paused with a scoop of brandade de morue halfway to his mouth. Trying not to be too obvious about being caught off guard, he stuffed it in his mouth and chewed, enjoying the salty-savory taste of one of the traditional Provencal dishes he loved so much. They were famed for taking the most mundane ingredients and blending them into something wonderful, and this was no exception.

"Uh, with someone on the ship?" he asked, trying to find a natural balance between his curiosity and respecting her privacy as a friend, colleague and superior officer.

Allyndra chuckled and smiled. "I do not have errant Q visiting me, so there is not much else available is there? So yes, someone of the ship." Her smile vanished though. "Perhaps a futile thing, I have tried before but perhaps like your kind maybe too alien for most. Humans, Trills, Bajorans, even Vulcans seem to be more compatible with each other than any have found with me. I knew that when the Guild sent me out, it would be lonely at times but I never expected to be a nun either."

Olsam took advantage of the lull in the conversation to round up the remaining appetizers and pull them closer, making them more accessible and easier to pick off one by one. It also gave him a chance to think, but he finally decided sometimes you just had to come out and say it. "Well, who is it?"

Allyndra put her glass down and wagged a finger. "Sorry, names shall remain nameless. I will only say tall dark and handsome. Now then..." Allyndra put on a more jovial mood as she got up. "Shall we move onto the main meal? I have tuna nicosie for a salad, along with the lobster bisque and the chestnut with creme frachie soup for starters." She went to fetch to the items and checked on the very main dishes before topping off each of their wine glasses and taking a seat.

"So Bolians from what I have read have a good appetite for more than just food. I suspect you have a line of girls back home on Bolarius?" Allyndra knew from the medical texts that relationships with Bolians by non-Bolians seemed to be detrimental to the later. She remembered one Bolian she had bitten and her mouth had seemed to burn for days.

Olsam dipped into the bisque but laughed and spilled most of it from the spoon before he got it to his mouth. "A line of girls? Maybe if they're outside a women's health clinic waiting for me to open the doors." He chuckled at his own joke before successfully tasting the bisque this time; it was met with nods and sounds of approval before he took a second and third bite. "But no. No line of women for me. Or men, for that matter. It's true, as a species , we have a healthy sexual appetite, but some of us have tamed our base instincts for the sake of a higher calling. Uh, not the priesthood, of course. Doctoring. I mean, being a doctor. Besides, my family is big enough as it is... No sense adding to it." His eyes narrowed slightly at that, and he turned his attention back to the soup.

"Oh? Not ready for little ones. I understand that part. I think I am moving past that myself. I suppose the gods never wished me to have them. However, higher calling or not, sometimes we need to realize that mantle is just that and underneath we have our need to be wanted. Intimacy is just an aspect of that. However..." Allyndra dipped her head, "I shall not inquire further of you. Now ready to taste the second part of the main? "

Olsam took a moment to reflect on the 'mantle' while he scarfed up the last of the chestnuts. Did he need to be wanted? Did he want to be needed? Hmm. Those were questions he usually didn't dedicate too much time to thinking about, being entirely too busy working on things like alphabetizing the medical equipment in the storage closet and completing his weekly review of the health records of the ship's personnel and reading the latest scientific publications from no less than 47 different academic sources. Maybe he was missing something, after all...

"I am ready to eat the second part," the Bolian grinned. "And also taste it, yes."

Allyndra nodded and got up. She went back to her small kitchen looking out at the stars briefly while she checked on the dishes. So pretty and yet so cold, like her life sometimes felt. Well, she at least seemed to have a friend in the Bolian doctor and for that she would give thanks to the Twins. While she had not made large portions of either, she brought each individually to the table. Again she topped off the wine glasses and took a seat. As she did so, though she knew that Mott having been in France was probably more sure she named each one, "Andouille and potato crepes, roasted maple orange turkey, steamed mussels in vermouth and filet mignon ala bordelaise. I wasn't sure on the fillet mignon so tried for a medium on that. The turkey might be off, I think I put too much maple in it." She smiled shyly, "One of the few things I can have and we crave sweets things."

Olsam looked at each of the small plates, assessing the portions. He'd first encountered the 'small plate' concept on his first trip to Earth with his co-father when they stopped off in an American city famed for its cuisine, New Orleans. The tiny plates of various dishes had boggled his mind, but as his co-father began to explain about the culinary habits of other species over a shared portion of pork belly, he began to slowly understand that Bolians were...unique...among the species of the Federation. Back home the only time you served small portions was to foreigners, though he supposed the pair were about as foreign as one could get in New Orleans so it seemed appropriate.

"I think," Olsam began, carefully folding up the Andouille with a bit of crepe before stuffing it in his mouth, "that people who complain about... Oh, this is good, this is very good. Uh... What was I...? Oh, right. Right. I think that people who complain about things being 'too much' this and 'too little' that and really getting all bent out of shape about it just have an inflexible palate that can't adjust to the possibility that there's more than one way to fix a dish. Plus, I like sweet things." He grinned and snagged a piece of the turkey, nodding in approval at the taste. "You must have been in here all day cooking! It's very kind of you to have me over... Whoever all this preparation is for must be a lucky man. Or...woman. Thing...?"

Allyndra smiled, "Man." She watched Mott for a moment noting how he turned the conversation away from his own personal life but she would not pry. "I have never cooked for him before so who knows. As I said, more a recent hobby then anything else and I value your opinion on this as much as medical matters." Allyndra mused over her glass for a moment, "May I ask you more about your family? I know it is something personnel and if I have overstepped my apologies and if you would not like to answer that is fine."

Olsam paused, tellingly, for just one chew when she asked the question. He'd just had this conversation with Teth the other day, and his wild imagination began wondering if there wasn't some grand conspiracy among the crew to divine his origins and heritage.

"No, it's not overstepping," Olsam said, more carefully than usual. "My mom is Olba, and she's an oceanographer. Although I think she teaches more than she researches nowadays... My dads are Mo and Zipok. Mo is a financial analyst at the Bank of Bolarus monitoring the markets in the Rigel sector, and he's a very serious banker type of person. Everything needs to be organized. But my co-father, Zipok, is like the opposite - he's a freighter captain working for a crystal steel corporation, and I spent every summer with him on the freighter traveling all over the place. We're more alike than my mom and dad."

The Bolian took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly as he rambled through the remainder of the family. "I'm the oldest, but I have ten other siblings... Six brothers: Gwidon, Dorin, Hars, Darz, Korvin and Kot. And four sisters: Alba, Darzana, Harsana and Vado. And then with my aunts and uncles and cousins - put them all together, and there are 47 immediate members in my family. Each with their own separate and unique opinion about the future of my life, right down to details such as how I should brush my teeth." He grumbled. "Dorin is a dentist."

Allyndra listened with interest. She could almost imagine each in her mind's eye as Olsam spoke. "They sound all very interesting," she said with a cheery tone. "Biologically I have no brothers or sisters but then each Ktareth that is brought into the House Warraquim is a brother or sister." Allyndra set her glass down and added, "So few of us survive our first year. I was simply amazed when I went off world that others seemed to think nothing of having many brothers or sisters."

Olsam smiled and nodded. "And by contrast I can't imagine not having an enormous family! Well. That's not entirely true, I have certainly imagined it... On more than one occasion. Uh, but, you were saying, only a few of you survive the first year?"

Allyndra shook a finger at Mott. "Now, now, I know Akkadian physiology is not taught much since hardly any use for it but I would have thought that the Assistant Chief Medical Officer with a specimen of the species would have brushed up." Her tone was light and laughing indicating this was not a real admonishment. She continued while he sampled the dishes, "Akkadians are egg layers, we bear those in the shallows of ancient reefs. The eggs hatch and the Ktareth then spend a year in the ocean before coming back to where they were born. There are many storms and many predators in the seas." Her tone grew somber. "I have made the matron flight but once and none of my Ktareth, my children ever returned." Allyndra took a deep breath and then stood and said with her mood lightening again, "Now on to the best part the deserts, that is if you are ready? I have chocolate grand marnier crepes, callissons with meringue and glace au pain d'epices. I must admit I enjoyed the grand marnier almost too much." Allyndra somewhat giggled at the last part. It was true, the rich sweet cognac was one thing she could imbibe and she had done so with relish.

Olsam frowned through the Akkadian reproductive lesson, but his mood seemed much improved after the mention of dessert. It was the best course, in his humble opinion, and a good dessert spread could always pull him out of the deepest of depressions. After all, who didn't like copious amounts of sugar? It was just so...energizing!

"Oh, I don't think you can really ever enjoy something too much," Olsam mused, stabbing one of the crepes with a glint in his eye. He quickly set about hacking it up into manageable pieces and stuffed one into his mouth, closing his eyes as he chewed. His eyes flew open as if he finally realized what Allyndra had said; a tight-lipped grin spread across his face until he'd managed to chew and swallow enough to speak. "Why, doctor, you're not a lush, are you?"

Allyndra laughed out loud. "I suppose I must admit I am. Developed enough tolerance to Blood wine that I can probably drink most Klingons under the table. One of the few pleasures that the universe offers that I can partake in. Please don't let it get out too much. Now then, let me hear your opinion?"

"I solemnly swear that I will not and cannot divulge the nature of your relationship with alcohol under the fraternal precepts of doctor-doctor confidentiality," Olsam said solemnly, having held his hand over his heart. He quickly turned his attention to the desserts, lining up the plates in a row and touching each as he doled out his pronouncements. "Chocolate grand marnier crepes: a little bit sweet, a little bit tart, and a lot of bit lovely. Superb, don't change a thing. Calissons with meringue: a little too citrusy to pair with a grand marnier dish, but just fine to serve standalone. They could have been blended a little longer, too, for a smoother consistency. But in all another fine example of Provencal cuisine! And finally, glace au pain d'epices: needs a little more cream, but the taste is sharp and fine."

Olsam whipped his napkin out from his lap, daintily wiped at the corners of his mouth, and smiled at Allyndra. "Mes compliments au chef!"

"Merci mon ami. Votre opinion est toujours trs apprci comme votre entreprise." Allyndra responded hoping she got things right. She then added, "I do hope you might be my taster for my further adventures into the culinary world."

Olsam nodded when she finished speaking, looking solemn and pensive as if this were a decision on par with selecting a university or considering a marriage proposal. "Yes, of course! I'd be happy to do so. I'm nothing if not qualified to eat and give opinions. Sometimes I think it might be the only things I'm qualified to do... Besides being a doctor, of course."

Allyndra laughed, "Oh! I think you do not give yourself enough credit. A good doctor, a fine pallet a good friend and I think there are more to your talents then that. There must be some sort of other interest?"

Olsam did his best to look modest. "Well, I dabble in a thing or two..."

"Please tell me a bit more over coffee. One of the few pleasures I can enjoy myself."

Allyndra got up and poured to cups of the French Vanilla coffee she had prepared and then sweetened with liberal dose of sugar and topped off with whipped cream. A small biscotte she placed on the side of Mott's cup on the saucer and then returned setting the two cups and then taking her seat. She took a sip of the hot coffee and actually giggled slightly as she got a bit of cream on her nose. "Not very dignified is it?" She said dabbing the cream away with the napkin. "Now tell me more about Olsam Mott's interests."

The Bolian had been grinning like an idiot at seeing cream on the tip of his superior officer's nose; 'dignity' wasn't really a word that entered his vocabulary very often and definitely not a concept that he embraced in his every day life.

"Well, I love to cook, of course. Although I usually do it in the galley; I had no idea you could get one of those kitchens installed. I wonder if there's room in my quarters? Teth might not like it... Hm. Or maybe he would. I don't know, it's hard to tell with him sometimes, really. He's such a... Well, he's such a cat."

Olsam chuckled at his own joke, as he was wont to do, before pressing on.

"I don't like sports at all. Did you know all humans are obsessed with sports? I'm not even exaggerating, Allyndra, every single one of them! Baseball this and Parisses squares that, on and on and on. Why do they like to do all that running and fighting and competing? The matches always remind me of a bunch of underdeveloped humanoids scrambling for limited resources, as if that ball actually represented something."

Allyndra shrugged. "I have no idea either. I think though something in their wiring as you suggested, others are like that as well for example Klingons. I can not help but wonder if that is why both at once those two races both hate and respect each other." She again shrugged, except this time that sort of odd rolling one. "Ah cooking well perhaps we can get together and delve into that a bit more. Any special type of cuisine that you folow?"

"Um, I follow the general sort of all-food cuisine?" Olsam said, giving a sheepish grin. "But I have been trying to investigate Terran cuisines a bit more. Did you know they bury things? Hawaiians bury pigs and Koreans bury cabbage and Scandinavians bury fish... I can't imagine what possessed the first person to do it! I've really enjoyed Turkish, Persian and Indian cuisine, though. Especially Indian cuisine! Sometimes I think they just throw all sorts of spices into a pot and hope for the best. And there's a kind of art to Turkish and Persian cuisine, I think. One of my neighbors back in Crecy-la-Chapelle is Persian, and she's always smacking my hands with a wooden spoon for doing something 'wrong.' You get the same result, but she's forever saying it's 'wrong' because I didn't do it her way!"

Allydnra could almost picture the described scene and almost laughed but kept her composure though not without a smile. "Well then, it sounds as if we have something in common besides medicine. I would love to learn more teacher." She lifted her glass. "Too the art of cooking!" She toasted.

"The art of cooking!" Olsam said, downing his glass of wine like he was drinking a shot of whiskey. He suppressed a burp as he replaced the glass on the table then gave a toothy grin. "What about you? You must have some interests beyond getting a better grasp of Federation culture. It must be very lonely, really, being an Akkadian here..."

Allyndra shrugged. "I have gotten used to it. As I said, I work on relationships but there is always that cultural gap. I miss home, the memories there have somewhat faded but it seems funny now every time I do back. When I am out here, I long for there, and when I am there I long to see the stars yet again." Allyndra sighed but then her look changed to one much more serious.

"I see myself more and more as what was expected of me though, to be eyes and ears for the Council. You got a taste of the Fold Ship and that is one amoung other marvels we put away. So I guess a pioneer is expected to have a lonely time on a new trail." Allyndra took a sip and then looked over her glass. "I thank you for keeping the secret."

"I'm better at keeping secrets than most people realize," Olsam said cryptically, the usual dopey haze in his eyes suddenly gone. He stared off at some unfixed point in the distance then snapped back to reality, his old grinning self again. "Hopefully we're a bit like a family here, then. That way it's not so lonely for you. I can't imagine being the only Bolian in the Federation... It would be exhausting! Rewarding in its own way, I guess... What does the Council mean to learn from your mission?"

"Not really a mission per se," Allyndra set the glass down. "Call it more a feedback. There is a debate growing on if keeping the achievements of the past hidden or to began embracing them again judiciously. What would be the consequences either way?" Allyndra looked at Mott and decided that she could trust him enough to say somethings that were not commonly known.

"We are the children of our world. It is in the hidden archives that we attempted to go and colonize other worlds, but the dance of the Twins, the salinity of the oceans, we are tied to those and all failed. Akkadia will be our only world baring a miracle. The politics of various expanding groups have now reached even our world and can we continue to pursue those old ways and hope or should we begin to bring back those marvels from the past and if we do that what will happen? Our history is one of woe due to not thinking about consequences and thus perhaps right or wrong we try to think about what actions now will cause later."

Olsam nodded and smiled a little. "I think other worlds have faced a similar decision over isolationism, although I don't think they had quite so much to hide." His smile grew a little bit, briefly, then faded again. "And what do you favor? Engagement? Engagement with a caveat, keep the hidden things hidden? Or seal off Akkadian space for the greater good?"

Allyndra smiled it was a question she had wrestled with. "When I was younger and first learned I could not see why we would not want to be proud and use what we had made but now as I have been away and amoung others it has made me wonder. The Iconians were feared and ultimately destroyed for their technology especially the gates. The Fold ships might be the same so perhaps a course of engagement but as you say, keeping hidden things hidden is perhaps the best course right now."

"I agree," Olsam said, as if he actually had some say in the matter. The Fold ship was only one of the things the Akkadians were probably hiding, though arguably the most powerful, and he couldn't imagine the sort of uproar that would come from it. If it fell into Federation hands, how long until the other powers heard about it? And how likely were they to remain silent if the Federation held the ability to travel almost instantaneously from point to point? Or, worse, what if one of the less honorable nations were to get their hands on it, the Romulans or the Breen? "When does your mission end?"

"Never," Allyndra said with some finality. "We seldom remarry and well...," Allyndra felt funny and a knot in her stomach hit her. "Many wondered on the Council if I might carry too much of A'ksu in my blood. Perhaps just luck of bad kind but my husband died in an accident and none of my Ktareth, my children ever came back from the sea. Getting away from the memories when the Council first requested me to go off world seemed like a blessing but I can not help but wonder if there was more to it than that. Here," Allyndra waved a hand in general. "Here has become as much home as that I left and friends I have made have become my family."

Allyndra picked up her glass and held it up, "Friend."

Olsam smiled and clinked his glass to hers in toast, then settled back into his seat and reflected on the sentiment. One's shipmates and friends definitely came to seem like a family, especially on a ship as small as the Galileo. And especially if you were running from your own family. Or, he thought as he looked up at Allyndra, seeking to distance yourself from painful memories.

"It's a good home," he finally said, looking around as if in appreciation of the ship's construction.

"Yes it is," Allyndra agreed.

OFF:
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Lt Cmdr Allyndra illm Warraquim
Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

&

Lieutenant Olsam Mott, M.D.
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

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