Cake Pops

Posted on 25 Oct 2017 @ 8:30am by Lieutenant JG Edward Butler & Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant

2,080 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - Starfleet Academy, Officer Candidate School Administrative Building
Timeline: MD 21 - 1403 hours

[ON]

From the solarium that looked out on the campus, Lake ir-Llantrisant appeared at the top of the stairs. He was clad in a zig-zag patterned trench coat, rather than his uniform. His dark eyes took no notice of the tall windows, nor the manicured laws beyond. When he appeared, he might as well have been in a fugue state, but then it ended, just as suddenly as the way he appeared. Lake pivoted his head left, and he pivoted his head right, but the look of revulsion didn’t put lines on his face until he looked down at the silver platter balanced between his hands. From his pinched expression, his distinctive Romulan brow-ridge became all the more noticeable when his eyes finally settled on the brightly-frosted layer cake in his hands.

"How did I--?" Lake muttered to himself, but that question hardly mattered, even as he said it. It mattered so little to to him, Lake allowed the words and the breath to trail off unfinished. It mattered so little to him, because he recoiled from the cake. He flailed his arms away from his body, sending the cake careering into the staircase, tumbling and smashing and crumbling into oblivion. Leaving a sanguine smear of cake-chunks and frosting down half the stairs.

Edward barely avoided being hit by a flying platter of cake. It struck just to his left, spattering his uniform legs with bits of frosting and chocolate cake chunks. "Whoa, hey!" he said, automatically, looking toward the source of the cake-bomb. The person he saw was not someone he'd have expected. He was a Romulan who looked decidedly unhappy.

"Are you okay?" the lanky man asked, concern and annoyance still warring for control in his words. "You almost hit me with a cake."

An expression of panic overwhelmed Lake's dark eyes, underscored by a sudden intake of breath, he dragged in between his teeth. That lack of control didn't last long. Soon after, Lake straightened his posture and replied, "My apologies," in a formal timbre. He didn't sound as if he was terribly sorry; more like he was making an effort to save face after an embarrassment. "I didn't see you there, in truth," Lake said, as he started to descend the stairs. "Are you uninjured?" he asked; "I am a doctor."

"No," Edward said, I'm not hurt. "My pants will probably even recover." He pulled a wet-wipe from his pocket and opened the package. He turned to sit on the stairs. With his height it almost looked like he was folding in to an accordion. He fastidiously wiped the frosting and cake bits off his pants. As he did, he said, "I haven't seen more than one or two Romulans this side of the Neutral Zone, even since Hobus. Are you in Starfleet?"

While Edwards wiped at his pants from his perch on the stairs, Lake descended those stairs behind him. "Lieutenant ir-Llantrisant, TX-694-8003," Lake answered in his formal timbre. He cleared his throat and continued his trek to the lower level. Quickly recognizing that he was coming across as defensive, he softened his intonation, when he said, "I became a Federation Citizen as a refugee. ...A defector. Grew up on Tracken II, back when there was still a colony there."

"I am always surprised by how many incredible stories I've heard since coming to the Academy. So, I have to ask," Edward said, changing the subject, "why on Earth did you fling an entire cake down the stairs?"

As Lake nearly reached the lower level, he sat himself down on the stair beside Edward. In an attempt to answer the question, Lake said, "The cake...", but he hesitated, and his hesitation expanded into a pregnant pause. Rather than look Edward in the eye, Lake kept his eyes on the down. "That cake was rejected," was all Lake could bring himself to say on the matter. His voice cracked as he did so. With a sudden flutter of panic, he pivoted his head to examine Edward's neck, asking, "I'm sorry, should I have been calling you: Sir?"

Edward shook his head. "Not yet, at least," he said, "I'm still in OCS." He returned to the topic of the cake, which was in the process of being cleaned up by the diligent and put-upon janitorial staff. "I'm pretty sure there are plenty of people who would have enjoyed a cake like that." He missed the emotion in ir-Llantrisant's voice.

Edward examined the leg of his uniform. There was still a very faint mark where the cake had splattered, but it was hardly noticeable. He'd still take the first opportunity to change. He hated having smudges or stains on his clothing. "So, doctor," Edward said as he rose, unfolding his lanky form from his perch on the stair, "would you care for some pie? I know a place that serves exceptional Key Lime Pie. As long as you don't fling it at anyone, that is."

Cautiously, Lake eyed Edward before he made any effort to get to his feet. "I can't make any promises about my behaviour. Such is the agony of free will," Lake dryly affirmed. If even that much was agreeable, Lake rose to his feet and smoothed out the wrinkles on his trousers with the palms of this hands. "I could murder a slice of pie," Lake answered the questioned posed. "Perhaps you can tell me more about what's drawn you into Starfleet, part-way into your career?"

"A few things," Edward said. He started walking, leading the way. "My mom was Starfleet. Career officer. She only retired because she realized she wanted to spend more time with Dad. I joined partially because she always wanted one of her children to be in Starfleet. Add that to the fact that I'd get a chance to serve on a ship that I partially designed, and yeah, it wasn't that difficult a decision."

Matching Edward's pace, Lake kept close to the taller man's side. He only hung back momentarily as they passed through the doors opening out into the courtyard, allowing Edward to exit first. "If designing starships has been your passion," Lake said, thinking aloud, "won't you get bored aboard something so old fashioned? You must be thinking about your next starship already, no?"

The lanky human chuckled. "I didn't design the ship itself, just some of the systems aboard. And there are always improvements to be made." He smiled, "To be honest, I was bored sitting in labs all day working on prototypes. Now I get to see how those designs work in the real world. If anything, I think it'll make me even better at my work."

Nodding at his understanding of Edward's words, Lake smiled back at him in encouragement. He followed along the pathway at a quickstep, working to keep up with the lanky Human's long strides. "What ship system are you most excited to see," Lake asked, "in the way it can benefit a real live crew?"

"Up until about three or four years ago I was focused almost solely holographic tech. I worked on the EMH program for several years, and I've led several other teams that focused on Starfleet application since. We designed all of these systems to benefit people, but we never really saw the end result in real terms." Edward turned a corner. "It's just a few blocks up, now."

Although Lake was looking ahead towards their destination, his expression lit up at the mention of the Emergency Medical Hologram. He waved a finger in Edward's direction, when Lake said, "I'm going to need something harder than a key-lime pie one night to ask you every question I have about the EMH."

The pair had to maneuver around the twisting, crowded streets. Any part of San Francisco that had been left after World War III had been preserved, narrow streets and all. The fine establishment they were planning on visiting was housed inside a classic.

"What led you to medicine?" Edward asked after they could finally walk side-by-side again.

It became noticeable how frequently Lake had been smiling at Edward and making eye-contact before, if only because he kept his eyes straight ahead while he spoke. "The War," Lake answered succinctly. "I wish I could tell you my heart bled for the galactic suffering from our conflict with the Dominion, but that didn't fully occur to me until afterwards." --He pursed his lips and nodded slightly, making the decision to be honest with himself and with this total stranger-- "I needed Starfleet. My ego needed everything being a Starfleet Officer could give me, but I didn't want to fight. I didn't join Starfleet for the duty. That's when I decided Counseling was my calling."

Edward shrugged. "I can understand some of that, I think." He located a booth along the wall with windows looking out on historic San Francisco. He sat, scooting all the way to the window. "One thing I was wondering if you could explain for me, being a counselor and all." He paused briefly, trying to find the words. "You talked about counseling being your calling. I've never understood the idea of feeling like you were destined for something or meant for some task or another. Is that pretty common?"

Standing at the edge of the table, Lake looked left and and he looked right, before he locked eyes on Edward. Looked right at him. "You understand," Lake said sheepishly, "the irony intended when I selected a career for pragmatic reasons and then called it destiny in retrospect, yes?"

Edward shrugged. "I suppose so. I guess I just find it hard to believe in destiny. Most people work hard to become what they are. It's not the result of some cosmic fluke. It's mostly the result of concentrated effort. At least that's how I see it."

Sliding into the booth, Lake moved himself close to the window as well, sitting directly across from Edward. Nodding at him, Lake said, "You asked me how common it was for people to believe in destiny... I can only speak from my experience working with Starfleet Officers. Really, I suppose the Vulcans said it best." --Saying that, Lake instinctively lowered his voice, as if expressing the most shameful of taboos-- "Infinite diversity in infinite combinations. Nothing is common between all peoples. And yet, at the same time, everything is common?"

"Yeah, that." Edward spoke with some level of annoyance. Vulcan engineers wanted holograms to have the same diversity as life. Infinite blah blah blah. "I'm an engineer. I program things to do what they're supposed to do," the lanky Human explained, "Sometimes it's tough for me to wrap my head around the fact that people aren't the same way. I honestly couldn't be a doctor, psychologist or otherwise. People are too..." he searched for the word, "unpredictable. Too chaotic."

That admission put a smirk on Lake's lips. There was nothing malevolent about the look on his face, rather, it was an expression of curiosity. Looking up from the menu, Lake looked to Edward. "When you're in a work setting," Lake asked, "what does chaos mean to you?"

Edward thought about it, oblivious to Lake's smiles and attention. "People are chaos. When I interact with a Hologram, I can identify the pieces. I know what makes it work and can make reasonable guesses as to what it will do next. Holograms always show up on time, they do what they're supposed to do well, and promptly. I can't say the same about people. After all, a person threw a cake at me." He glanced up with a wry grin, hoping the joke didn't offend.

Edward didn't have to look very long. A honking sound came out of Lake's mouth, and the mirth across his expression made it clear the sound was laughter. "I almost had you," Lake said in simultaneous excitement and defeat. "I was developing a counter-argument about the common impulses and motivations that drive people... until... cake. You got me with cake."

The server appeared. "Can I get you two something?" The menu was on a tent-style flip-board in the old style.

"Key Lime," Edward said, "two pieces, please."

Lake chimed in with, "and coffee too."

[OFF]


Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (Junior Grade) Edward Butler
Assistant Chief Engineer
USS Galileo

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