Conversations

Posted on 21 Jun 2015 @ 7:15pm by Lieutenant Olsam Mott & Commander Allyndra illm Warraquim
Edited on on 24 Jun 2015 @ 1:35am

2,327 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: USS Galileo, CMO's quarters
Timeline: MD -01 Time 2000 hrs

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"So I was thinking of asking engineering to put in place some fail-safes to make sure the holoemitters don't shut down and take Shirley with them in the event of a catastrophic power failure," Olsam said, reaching for his glass of wine. He'd been eagerly awaiting the evening's appetizers and decided to review some of the information on the PADD he'd brought with him in the meantime. "That's one of the biggest reasons I don't like using her regularly. It's too risky. You can't have the doctor vanishing in the middle of a procedure!"

Allydnra listened as she cut a piece, a generous one of the apricot Chambord Brie pastry for an appetizer. She had gently roasted the apricots and then added apple, pecans, raspberry jam and a generous helping of Chambord. Of course during the cooking she had consumed a generous helping of the Chambord as something she could actually enjoy.

"Interesting but power can be interrupted at any time. I suppose the emergency generators in medical would be the best. Perhaps in case there is a major problem we should have the Doctor," Allyndra tried to avoid the Shirley monikor. "Tied to sickbay only. Probably should think about some extra shielding on the computer corps. One thing for the the doctor to disappear but another for it to be there but totally have no knowledge." She smiled, "While I will not say anything but between us, I guess there are some advantages to us 'organics' as she likes to call us."

"Huh, some," Olsam puffed, making clear his opinion on the advantages of organic versus holographic doctors. "The emergency generators are a good idea, and the shielding, too. Maybe reinforce the ODN conduits running from the computer core to the subprocessor in Sickbay, too." He stuffed a whole pastry in his mouth and chewed thoroughly while making notations on the PADD. "And I was thinking we have the same problem with utilizing the holodeck as a trauma/triage center. Standard protocol calls for the cargo bay, which already has the medical equipment in storage. If power gets cut to the holodeck, we'll have patients falling from non-existent biobeds and worse! It didn't happen last time, but there's no telling if it will during the wargames. I'd rather have solid cots and solid equipment when dealing with the sick and injured."

Allydnra was impressed. Mott had been thinking a lot on this. "Well I hope the wargames are not that serious. We might engage but weapons and all are supposed be at reduced power. Still, your thinking for a real future scenario is admirable. Would you like to take on getting Engineering to add emergency generators to the holodecks?"

"Sure, I can do that," Olsam said with a nod, making a notation on the PADD.

"Now then, let's move on to something else," Allyndra stood. "I thought to prepare this for our Klingon guests or rather hosts now that we will be dining there and need you input." She got up and then returned with a tray steaming with a set of sea shells. "Coquilles St-Jacques," she explained. "They are scallops poached in white wine, placed atop a pure of mushrooms in a scallop shell, covered with a sauce made of the scallop poaching liquid, and gratined under a broiler."

Olsam's eyes lit up, and his lips formed into an O-shape. "Oooo... Pecten maximus, look how big and delicious they are! These are my favorite. I used to get them in the market back home in France," he said, blurting out the sentence as if France was actually home to the Bolian people. He scooped up the scallop shell, completely disregarding the utensils, and shoved it against his mouth. The cartilaginous lining of his tongue made an odd sort of scraping sound on the shell as he sought out the remnants of food stuck to it, and it was accompanied by a deep rumbling bass of approval from within his throat. "Delicious, just delicious. So refined, perfect mix of flavors. The Klingons probably would prefer them not poached, but what do they know? They're about the last people I'd ask for culinary advice. They have a very intriguing culture, but when you don't even cook your food, you're really limiting your palette..."

"Well I looked at a few dishes but almost everyone says replicators just don't reproduce their ingredients well and they just seemed so...simple? Anyway I thought as a friendly gesture and perhaps something different. Now then..while not overly exotic I made Boeuf Bourguignon but with traditional allspice berry included. I tasted the broth and it seems pleasant to me."

"I've never turned down a non-exotic chunk of cow before," Olsam said, grinning in anticipation. "Have you ever met any Klingons before? I mean, aside from Lieutenant Da'Kar. I'm not sure he really counts, anyway."

"Yes. Well there was this one cadet at the Academy who was Klingon." Allyndra said serving up a bowl and giving herself one with just broth. "She used to tease many of the students and get into fights. She did that to me and I took her up on her challenge. We went outside and she came charging like some maddened what is that animal of theirs? A targ right?"

"Yes," Olsam said breathlessly. He'd even put down his eating utensils in anticipation of the continuation of the story. It was beyond his grasp trying to imagine his frail boss facing down a charging Klingon female. "A targ."

"Like a maddened targ. I grabbed a small rock and took to the air and as she turned neatly put it right here..." Allyndra pointed to her own frontal part of her skull. "She went down on her behind dazed and touching the spot which leaked blood. I thought she was going to be really mad but then she just started laughing and said, 'Bested in fair fight!" We became fairly good friends after that."

Olsam blinked. "You hit her with a rock, and she didn't kill you? Astounding. Good aim, though... I'd have gone for the jugular in close-combat myself, but then again I've never been very good with projectiles." He shrugged and picked up his utensils again, turning his attention back to the second helping of appetizers. "Have you fought often? You don't strike me as a warrior, doctor."

"I'm not. I wouldn't even grapple with a Klingon don't have the physical strength but as she even said, best to use what you do have to your advantage. Hmmm...let me remember? It was something like a good warrior uses what is available to his advantage. I could fly, she couldn't so she just figured I was right in doing that to keep out of her clutches. They are a mercurial people at times it seems. One never knows if what one does or says will set them off or suddenly make you a friend for life. So how's the the soup?" Allyndra asked pointing her spoon.

Olsam nodded vigorously over her assessment of the Klingons. They really were very mercurial, and, despite having a well-developed culture, they still seemed highly unpredictable, especially to the uninitiated. He'd been fascinated enough to study them at the Academy but despite all the time dedicated to the exploration of their culture still felt no closer to truly understanding them.

"The soup is wonderful, of course," the Bolian said, giving a squinty-eyed smile. "It never ceases to amaze me how you can season something so well given your own peculiar eating habits. It's a true talent! We call it bexvudi, the saucemaster. I don't really know why it's called the saucemaster since there's more to cooking than just sauce, and it's not like seasoning is that important when making a sauce of all things... But I can't claim the Bolian language makes any sense in other respects, either."

"I think it just means to make something that enhances the meal. The art of cooking as I understand it is not so much in just do this and do that but to make a meal in such a way that it pleases the other senses than the palette. It must please the visual and olfactory as well. I might not be able to do more than taste just a bit of some of the items but I certainly can smell everything and see it as well. Now then... for the main dish I prepared wine poached salmon with black truffles and as a side petits pates a la Sage." Allyndra said as she finished off her broth. She smiled broadly, "And yes you will note no doubt that many of things I make involve beverages in their preparation. I guess I am giving the impression I am an alcoholic but call it one of the joys to me of the cooking."

Olsam laughed once, then twice, and then it seemed like he couldn't stop himself. The moment it died down into contained chuckling it would erupt again into full on laughter. Finally, as he started to turn a shade of purple, he seemed to get control of himself. The thought of her drunkenly flying down the corridors of the ship, bumping into bulkheads and crewmen alike, had struck him as absolutely hilarious.

"I won't think you're an alcoholic until I catch you drinking on duty. We had that problem with a nurse on the Hope if you can believe it. She'd developed an enzyme to mask the odor and everything!" As the salmon arrived on the table, his eyes widened and his fingers actually wiggled in anticipation. "I love fish, and I've never had these sage pies before. People don't seem to like fish. I've noticed in the mess hall, there's a decided lack of ocean meat on everyone's plate. Is it offensive? I think it's wonderful, even the eyes."

"Who knows? Maybe something too primordial? While we do not use fish much all of us spend our year at sea. Some to eat, and others....well not all of us survive. It is the way of things," Allyndra shrugged. "I never really thought about things before, sea, land and sky. We move through all three...." Allyndra shook her head, "Enough for being philosophical, now tell me is it overly dry?"

"Hmm," Olsam said, looking reluctant to criticize. "A bit. It's hard to encourage flakiness without making it too dry, right? Sometimes there's only a few seconds between perfect and dry. I think it's an art. I encourage practice. The oils keep breaking down even after you take it out of the oven so it's very difficult to judge when's the best time to remove it. My grandma had it down to a science, but I've never been very good at it. I'm much better with crustaceans."

"Noted, well sorry it is not quite right. Perhaps I am getting to adventurous." Allyndra replied and wondered if it would be a broach of delicate subject but went ahead and asked, "Your grandmother is she still living?"

"Oh no, she's dead," Olsam said as casually as if he were reporting the weather. "She fell off the cliffs of Bumbalux looking for mushrooms or something, I think. Although there was some speculation that my mother pushed her. I think that was just a joke, though." He fell silent for a moment and looked off to the side. "At least I hope so. But, yes, she's dead. It's okay, she was kind of an unpleasant woman. Humans think you shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but we call 'em like we see 'em. And she was bitter and cranky all the time."

Allyndra listened not sure quite what to make of the story but she just accepted what Mott said. "Well guess I shall have to 'fish' on my own then for the right time for such a dish." She chuckled a little at the pun. "Well let's see how the desserts turned out then."

She got up and puttered for a few moments before returning. "I have Savarin with a Strawberry compote and Mocha pots de creme. The later I could even take a taste of. I can see why chocolate is something Terra could conquer the universe with."

Olsam looked aghast for a moment, though the presence of the desserts seemed to mellow him out a little bit. "Can you imagine humans conquering the universe? It would be terrible. Various depths of beige and brown skin tones for as far as the eye can see... With their hamburgers and flat accents and Earth trees." He wrinkled up his nose a little bit at the thought; if there was an irony in the fact that he had willingly made his home on Earth then it was lost, naturally, completely lost on the Bolian. "I much prefer the diversity of the Federation. It's a lovely thing. I don't know how the monolithic Klingons and Romulans and Cardassians manage."

"It's because they don't have chocolate or even really anything I would consider fine cuisine. It is a pet theory of mine that when a culture has rotten cuisine that they go out to find something better."

Olsam laughed and laughed some more, eventually turning a shade of purple. "I think you're right! No wonder they're so expansionistic. Although, you'd think Bolians would have just stayed home." He lifted his chin with no small amount of pride. "We do, after all, have the galaxy's premier cuisine. Pre-mier."

"Your correct, well I shall modify my theory, some have to also just share with the galaxy." She lifted her glass for a toast. "Here is to fine cuisine and those that appreciate it."

"Cheers," Olsam said with a grin, lifting his glass in toast.

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Lieutenant Olsam Mott
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

Lt. Cmdr Allyndra illm Warraquim
Chief Medical Officer
USS Galileo

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