A Calm

Posted on 04 Dec 2012 @ 6:04am by Warrant Officer Evan Kell
Edited on on 04 Dec 2012 @ 6:06am

3,920 words; about a 20 minute read

Mission: Episode 02 - Resupply
Location: USS Galileo: Mess Hall
Timeline: MD12 0700

ON:

Kell was absorbed in his PADD, something sent to him by Sarai regarding tensions in his old unit and an upcoming trial for an Earth First member charged with terrorism.

From his long years working with Sarai, he gathered she was particularly not fond of her sister for being the spokesperson to the xenophobic group. Sarai's written notes on the sides confirmed this, Kell thought with a mild amusement. (About time we caught these bastards, Kell! I can't even tell you how much I look forward to seeing them in a jail cell.)

Of course, that wasn't his job anymore. But Sarai was his friend, and he admitted to a small degree of satisfaction on her behalf. His breakfast consisted of rice, soy sauce and an egg cracked overtop with some green onions and ginger grated over the rest of it. Chili peppers cut up on the side added a considerable zing. He didn't pay much attention.

Jeremy finally found his way to the mess hall, hoping to grab breakfast...after reading the note on his PADD that he had not yet eaten. As soon as the door opened, however, he saw the small room was crowded almost as soon as he entered. He started to walk out, but was stopped by a chestnut haired petty officer coming in behind him, her brown eyes picking up tones of red from her hair. She looked at him and smiled.

"Sorry, didn't think you were going to back up," she said, placing her hands at his waist to keep him from moving right when she stepped so she could get around him. "Love the way you dance though." She flashed a smile then went to the buffet counter. Jeremy looked down at the floor, an unfamiliar feeling passing through him. She had touched him, which he didn't like. There were no notes on his PADD regarding it, because he didn't have a problem remembering that. In fact, he hated being touched. But...he hadn't realized she touched him until after she had walked around him.

He glanced at his PADD and the note to have breakfast. He had a full day ahead of him...first he needed to check in with the XO before the start of Alpha shift, then he needed to begin organizing his department. But first, breakfast. He looked around for the replicator and found one on the far wall but...oddly enough, no one seemed to be at it. There was a line, however short, at a buffet style counter with trays of food arranged for the crew to select. Most of it was already portioned on plates but some were dished out of bins.

Jeremy walked over to look at the selection. On the Steadfast he had tried something like this and there had been problems with the XO regarding the use of replicator rations on the smaller defiant class ship. However, he stared at the selections then looked at his PADD then back at the selections.

"You're new, aren't you Lieutenant?" she asked. "I'm sure I'd remember seeing you around. You could take cuts if you want." His brow furrowed. Something about her tone.

"No," Jeremy said. "I'm just not sure-" what I like he would have finished.

"Oh, I'll help you! You have to get used to the cooking and that can be dicey without a guide. Here." She handed him a tray. Confused by her eager cooperative attitude he automatically took it, his face permanently fixed into one of puzzlement. She grabbed his arm and pulled him along with her. Stop touching me some part of his mind screamed. It had an odd accent. That part of him wanted to scream at her. Oddly, he found himself silent as she kept pulling him through the line, putting food on the tray for him.

At the end he looked down at what was there, unsure he could identify half of it. He vaguely remembered mumbling that he liked coffee, black and thought she made some sort of comment before she laughed. He was still trying to analyze her laugh for the traces of derision or mockery he normally heard when she spoke again.

"Oh, there's not two seats together," she said. "Maybe those two would-" Jeremy didn't know how she would end the statement as he saw an open seat at the table in the corner. A male sat there, reading. Jeremy walked over and...after learning on the Steadfast that the proper protocol was an open seat was available - much to his dislike - he sat down and pulled out his PADD. But, that was set aside for the moment as he stared at the food on the tray, trying to figure out what any of it was.

Kell paid even less attention as someone decided to commandeer the only remaining seat, opposite his table. Kell looked up, offered a small noise of acknowledgment when Stone sat and then went back to his PADD. This time, he switched the PADD to the instructions he was trying to read on how to properly maintain and fit a pipe in a plumbing system. The ship worked fine, it was more or less for his own interest. The skill could come in handy.

Perhaps the man said something, maybe he didn't, but Jeremy was still staring at the food. Did he even like any of this?

Kell switched the PADD to one of the silly, but more intriguing selections he'd downloaded onto it. Nobody got murdered before lunch. But nobody. People weren't up to it. You needed a good lunch to get both the blood-sugar and blood-lust levels up.

An interesting fellow, this Douglas Adams was. His musings on space, particularly so:

A towel, The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value. You can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapors; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a miniraft down the slow heavy River Moth; wet it for use in hand-to-hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (such a mind-boggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

"Useful enough, then, huh?" Kell spoke to himself, in deadpan sort of humor. If he noticed the person in front of him, it didn't seem to show. He looked up then, realizing Stone sat in front of him, enthralled in musings of his own, no doubt. Kell shrugged and went back to his readings.

I'd far rather be happy than right any day. "Can't go wrong with that," Kell said to the PADD in front of him wryly, picking up his accompanying coffee and taking a long sip.

Jeremy looked up from what he presumed was food on the tray in front of him. "Useful enough for what?" Jeremy asked. "You have provided no information to determine what the object is nor what it may or may not be useful enough for."

Blinking, the warrant officer realized that he was being addressed only after several seconds had passed. Probably should work on that. That, being his propensity for talking to himself. He really was his own best conversational partner. He tap-tapped his stylus against his chin, placing Stone only after a few seconds of idle wandering. New security chief. "Oh, a towel," he neutrally.

Jeremy took his fork and stabbed it into something at random. Shouldn't 'food' come with labels so that you knew what you were selecting? So that you knew if it was something you liked? "Again, you have not provided information of substance." Then a thought occurred to him, on that Mulgrew had told him was a very real possibility and he should give it a try 'for me' and then 'let me know how it goes.' He stared at the bit on his fork. "Is this small talk?" he sounded almost dismayed.

"I think it's a joke." Kell shrugged, indicating the PADD in front of him. "This, says the most useful thing while traveling in space is a towel." Just the way Stone spoke gave Kell the impression that the man wouldn't understand the humor behind it. He was very...precise.

Jeremy glanced at the PADD, quickly reading what was said there. A towel? The most useful thing when traveling through space? That's just ridiculous. he thought and began compiling a list of much more useful things necessary when traveling through space, beginning with an EVA suit when the man continued speaking.

"Which is wrong. It's said so certainly, everyone knows it's wrong. So for some people that's funny. Deadpan humor, British humor, if you're into that."

"I am told I do not have a sense of humor," Jeremy said, biting into the thing on the fork and chewing experimentally. He had the face of a child told to 'try the slimy green thing on your plate or no privileges for you!'

"It's not for everybody," Kell agreed as if that were that. Kell captured a bit of miso around his chopsticks and ate calmly, swallowed, and then spoke again. "You're pretty literal. Most humor's figurative, intuitive. You find anything funny ever?"

Jeremy swallowed, not consciously aware he had chewed thirty two times, before he took a sip of the liquid the petty officer had chosen for him. That he found tasty, he wasn't so sure about the bit he had just eaten however. He speared something else. He thought about the question. Would he make notations on his PADD regarding things that he found humorous? "I am told that during this particular operatic segment the young love interest confronts the younger of the villains and then they sing a love duet which was quite risque for its time as it is sung by two men - one of which is a homosexual. Apparently the juxtaposition of the young male's discomfort at being propositioned, through song, by an ardorous male villain is quite amusing."

There, that should suffice to answer the question. Though, it didn't really answer it, did it? Jeremy stuffed the bit of food into his mouth with his right hand and tapped a note on the PADD with his left: keep track of things/times you find humorous. He chewed thirty two times before swallowing.

Kell nodded pensively. "Mm," Kell said with a small smile. "I think a lot of people do find things funny. Just a matter of what you find funny, instead of what people say is funny." He thought on that to himself a little while, eyes scanning over his own PADD and then turning to eat again. Capellan neurology being what it was, he didn't overly notice Stone's very methodical chewing habits. His own were quite normal. Relaxed, at ease.

Jeremy made another note on his PADD: Small talk. I do not like it. He flipped to the half translated libretto, trying to determine a more eloquent translation of the opera. At this point he stopped wondering if he liked what he ate or not, and only did so absently because it was a requirement for his body's needs.

Kell sat in amicable silence with the other as they both apparently, at the same time, decided conversation wasn't necessary. He continued to read his PADD thoughtfully, making notes to himself in the margins on what he thought rather than voicing them aloud. (That would just be unnecessarily confusing, he mused to himself.) He captured a bit of egg and rice. Chopsticks were a miniature game, in his mind. A practice of dexterity while eating. Or something.

"Hey, you two mind if I sit here?" PO Darwisch asked as she slid her tray on the table and began sitting.

"I understand that protocol in this type of situation dictates that-" Jeremy began looking at the Ops crewman that had made up his tray.

"Thanks, that's sweet. I had to sit over there with a couple of engineers and talk about chatty. The two never shut up. How do you like the geriknak," she asked looking at Jeremy, then before he could finish chewing and answering she turned to Kell. "Whatcha reading?"

Jeremy frowned as he looked on what was on his fork. She had asked him a question and then failed to wait for a response. Apparently a response to the question was not required.

Kell looked up at the exchange, an unnamed look on his face. One that usually suggested he was thinking, pensive, cataloging. "Hitchhiker's Guide," he said, passing over the PADD to Darwisch. "An enlightening expose on the towel." And that was in the cadence of the ironic monotone which passed for humor by Kell's standards.

"Oh yeah!" She said, taking a look at it. "I love those books. Douglas Adams is a genius! He's just one of the best. Right up there with Terry Pratchett. Have you got to the part where they get to the planet and the improbability drive changes the missiles to a whale and the petunias? I love that part, cause later in the series...what...you've read them all haven't you?" she asked placing a hand on Kell's arm as she handed the PADD back to him.

Nodding, Kell replied once more in blank form as usual, "I have." A good bit of miso was carefully swallowed down. Kell took a moment to drink his juice, before his dark blue eyes turned back to scan the words, dully amused at the depicted interpersonal reactions written in front of him.

"And you, Mr. Brooding," she turned back to Stone, absently putting a lock of hair behind her ear. "What are you reading. I hope nothing boring like reports or some treatise on new pat-search procedures!"

Jeremy finished chewing before he swallowed. "I am currently attempting to understand the nuances of this rediscovered German opera." he answered.

"Oh, German! Aside from Wagner, they're not really known for their operas. Which one are you reading?"

"Tanz Der Vampire," Jeremy answered his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth. This was becoming grating. But, perhaps, he could get in all of his required 'social interaction' time at once and be good for another week.

Darwisch shook her head. "Don't know German I'm afraid. You like opera?" she asked Kell, swallowing a mouthful.

"Italian libretto's nice," the warrant officer replied offhand, tilting his head with a rueful smile. Not really a smile, more like the top part of his right lip quirked up just a little. His mind was slowly getting used to them, but it took a while. It was more forced than genuine, but he'd pull through. (I miss Sarai, he thought to himself. She was one of the few people his brain actually accepted as not-outsider. It made things easier.) "Touching, if you're into that. 'La fatal pietra sovra me si chiuse. / The fatal stone now closes over me.'" He quoted it contemplatively.

She laughed as she listened to Kell. "Okay, but Aida really doesn't count because everyone knows that one."

"Don't knock a classic." Kell arched an eyebrow, nonplussed.

"It's like quoting 'Hamlet' or 'Romeo and Juliet'. It's like opera-lite."

"I'm opera-lite," Kell agreed with a small exhale, which might have been an outright laugh on anyone not Capellan.

"You know this one?" She drank to clear her mouth and then cleared her throat. Sitting up straighter, she placed her hand to her stomach:

Sometimes it's the night
And the way it seems to cry
And whisper terrifying secrets in your ear
Sometimes it's the day
And the sun has got no mercy
Lighting up and burning everything that's in it's way
There are times I've got to run

She sang with a temerity that caused a slight vibrato but overall a very pleasing voice. But Jeremy, on hearing the first few lines immediately stilled, the fork once again halfway to his mouth. On the third line he lowered the fork to the tray and stared straight ahead, reminding himself to breathe calmly, normally. By the time she was at the last line, he'd been gripping the tray tight enough to cause a slight bend. Suddenly he stood, slipping the PADD into his pocket. Without a word to either one, he deposited the tray into the reclamator and headed for the door.

"What was that about? Was I that bad?" Darwisch asked Kell, while watching Jeremy leaving the mess hall.

"No, he's stressed." Kell wasn't an intelligence officer for nothing. But it wasn't exactly difficult to read the signs otherwise anyhow. That tray took a pretty good twisting before it was rudely deposited into the reclamator.

"Oh," she said, biting her lower lip while still watching the door. She had a feeling that going after him probably wouldn't do much good. "I guess being a new chief on your first day has got to be stressful."

The dark-haired man blinked, bobbing his head slightly, but mostly said nothing as she talked a mile a minute.

"Boy, I think when that happens to me I'm going to be just one big ball of nerves and stress! I only have to go around making diagnostics and fixing things that go wrong, but to do all that while still maintaining the entire ship! I just don't know how people do it."

"They do it."

She ate a bit more then turned back to Kell. "Say have you read the following volumes or are you just starting? You've heard of the Discworld books right?"

"My hearing's pretty good," the Capellan said in terribly dull literalness. It was the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth that gave away the tell-tale sign of teasing.

"I bet, but could be better if you cut your hair just a bit, it's really kind of shaggy. Not like your friend, that's trim. But anyway, what's your favorite Discworld book? I like Hogfather the best because I think it's the funniest. But also any one that has Captain Carrot as a big part of it. Y'know, if we did a ship version of Discworld your friend might make a good Carrot. He'd just need red hair. You could be Sam or maybe Vetinari."

That earned her a faint snort of laughter. "Mm. 'Nowadays, for a modest fee, an Ankh-Morpork citizen may walk the streets confident that he will not be mugged more than a few times per year, and will always receive a receipt.' I try to be benevolent." The quote was deadpan, the comment droll.

"Oh yes!" She laughed again, leaning toward him and again placing a hand on his forearm. "Vetinari's the best. A benevolent dictator. I think it's great the way he's always saying 'one man, one vote. I'm the one man.' I really wish they could have cloned Pratchett and he could have wrote forever."

She made more food disappear. Then, looking at the door again, " So, what's the story with your friend? Tell me about him. Like does he like all opera or just German. Is he seeing anybody? What does he like to do for fun?"

"Mm." Kell had a think on that. "Likes opera, definitely not seeing anyone, and probably has no idea himself," he answered all her questions in chronological order, based on his five second conversation with the fellow.

She was quite for a moment then laughed, a rich, velvet sound that had a weak used quality to it, as if she did it a lot. Smacking Kell lightly on the shoulder she smiled. "You're such a kidder! You almost had me there. Who doesn't know what they like! That's funny. Wow. To think you were serious." She finished her keva juice. "This was fun, we should make a regular date of it each morning. It'd sure save me from sitting with those girls. Boy do they talk a lot."

Who would have thought, Kell added silently, ironically, but it really didn't bother him all that much, in the same way that nothing really bothered him.

She bit her lower lip again then quickly added, "That is if your friend won't mind."

"Nope," the warrant officer maintained with a little too-casual certainty. "Seat's yours," he said by way of concession, because he didn't mind her company (in the same way that he didn't mind anyone's company, but hey, it was something at least).

"Well, that sounds great. But, you really should get to reading more and talking less. 'Hitchhiker' may be the best of Adam's novels, but you really need to read them all to understand the full complexity of the story."

Kell let her talk, mostly because it was something new to break up his day. And it was nice to have someone else aboard with a fascination for old science fiction. Though he was familiar with what she discussed, he merely nodded.

"Except for his unfinished 'Salmon' novel, which isn't a 'Hitchhiker' novel, not really. Oh, and maybe I can bring you some different operas so that you know some really good ones instead of just 'Aida'. I mean, it's good but the early 21st century version was better, a little more uptempo in composition." She collected her breakfast tray, cup and cutlery as she spoke.

"My favorite century," Kell said with a drink of his own coffee. That didn't sound half bad. Then again, it wasn't exactly difficult to please him.

"Maybe we could start a book or music club, y'know, so we have something to talk about every morning? Otherwise the conversation might get dull or die out. Good conversation makes everything better...and we both know the food could certainly use all the improvement it can get!"

"Mm," Kell agreed, which was as good an outright yes as anything.

She stood and lifted the tray. "Well, okay, see you around. Don't forget to let your friend know that you invited me to join you. I wouldn't want him annoyed with me...unless he doesn't know what annoys him either! Ha, that was a good one!"

I have the feeling he knows the answer to that one pretty well, Kell didn't say out loud, but rose his glass toward her with a nod.

She took her tray to the reclamator and smiled brightly at Kell on her way out the door, wondering if she should get a big mug of coffee before reporting for Alpha shift or wait for a little bit.

OFF:

Lieutenant (JG) Jeremy Stone
Chief Security/Tactical Officer, SFS
USS Galileo

Warrant Officer Evan Kell
Intelligence Officer, SFI
USS Galileo

PO Darwisch
Operations Officer, SFO
USS Galileo

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