DISCLAIMER: It's Paramount's galaxy.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: C/7. Chakotay, Seven and their daughter dine out at a restaurant while visiting Q'onoS.
"Wej gagh" translates to "Not the gagh"
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WEJ GAGH
Stardate 67042.4
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"Wej gagh," Chakotay said emphatically. Although he didn't understand exactly what the waiter had said, he did pick up on the reference to that Klingon delicacy of live serpent worms. Something he definitely wanted to avoid.
The waiter frowned and rubbed his beard. The Klingon was wearing what appeared to be a short apron with a purplish streak on the side from where he must have wiped his hand. "Sop racht… good. Haghpu' hu'man," he said and then laughed out loud. Some other Klingons at a nearby table, who perhaps had been listening in, turned back to their meal and shook their heads.
Unfortunately, it was clear to Chakotay he was not getting his desires across. The Sacagawea was in orbit overhead, having escorted a Federation official to Q'onoS to attend negotiations with the Empire. As they waited for the discussions to conclude, he and Seven, along with their daughter Ixchell, had spent the day touring in and around the Klingon capital city. They had taken the aerial tramway to view the Fire Pits of Gal, beamed over to see first-hand the ruins of Praxis, and also toured the fabled Mines of Kahless below the city. Chakotay had thought it would be fun to also sample the local cuisine, but now he wasn't sure it had been such a good idea. They had inquired about finding a "family friendly" restaurant, and were now at the one most recommended. Indeed, there appeared to be several Klingon children running about. When they were seated, they were all served what appeared to be water, or at least a clear beverage of some sort that was also given to his daughter so he assumed it was water. But the ordering of their meal wasn't going as smoothly as he hoped for. "We need more time," Chakotay finally replied, waving his hand.
The Klingon grunted, and moved off to another table, chuckling softly to himself. The occupants of a table in the far corner suddenly all cried out and started drinking from large mugs. Even the two children at the table participated, although their mugs were slightly smaller. Ever so slightly smaller. This family friendly restaurant was definitely a spirited place.
"We could beam back up to the ship," Seven offered. "It's been a long day."
"No," Chakotay replied, clearly frustrated. He leaned closer to Seven who was sitting beside him. "Why aren't our universal translators working?" he fumed. "I can't understand what the waiter is saying."
Seven shrugged. "Perhaps a dampening field?" she suggested. "I don't have my tricorder, so I can't tell for certain." She then shook her head. "I believe the waiter is attempting to speak Federation Standard sometimes, but I can't understand him either."
"I just want to make sure they don't serve us gagh," Chakotay sighed and examined the menu again. He had had a bad experience with gagh when he was a cadet during a Star Fleet summer program. He couldn't read Klingon either, but some of the selections had an associated image that gave you a clue as to what it might be. Most of these, however, didn't appear very appetizing. Chakotay looked over to his eight year old daughter who was sitting across from him. "What are you going to get sweetheart?"
Ixchell just shook her head. Her eyes were open wide, and occasionally she would look about, probably to follow the actions of one child or another about the restaurant. Chakotay imagined she would have all sorts of stories to tell Miral when they returned to the ship. Tom and B'Elanna and their daughter Miral were visiting relatives on another part of the planet. The restaurant they chose was very loud and lively with every table filled with Klingon families. Every table but one. Chakotay and Seven had chosen not to wear their uniforms and were dressed more or less like the locals, but being the only non-Klingons in the establishment, the three of them did stick out.
"We're both getting the 'quinel," Seven said, interrupting Chakotay's thoughts. "It is the third item on the left hand side of the menu."
Chakotay examined the menu, but that particular item didn't have an image. "What is 'quinel?"
"It's like rice," Seven responded. "I believe it's a variant of quadrotriticale, imported from Sherman's planet."
"Quadrotriticale?" Chakotay scoffed. "That's not authentic Klingon food. Besides, isn't that just meant to be a side dish?"
Seven raised an eyebrow and smirked. She apparently wasn't going to be dissuaded, and Ixchell wasn't very adventurous with food choices anyway. Chakotay heard a grunt from behind him. The Klingon waiter was back, apparently getting impatient. There were other customers outside waiting for a table.
"Fine," Chakotay said, and then pointed to the most innocuous of the images on the menu and held it up for the waiter to see. It appeared to be a broth with various vegetables and what looked like noodles.
"Kwan'zo?" the waiter questioned.
"Hlja," Chakotay confirmed, using one of the Klingon words he did know, for 'yes'. "Wej gagh?"
"Hlja," the waiter replied with a smile. Chakotay knew just a little Klingon, but not enough to carry on a conversation. With working universal translators, it was hardly necessary nowadays. The waiter at least confirmed it wasn't gagh and otherwise seemed pleased with his choice, which gave Chakotay some confidence. The waiter then turned to Seven. "Be'?" he grunted.
"'Quinel batlhchaj maHvaD," Seven replied, indicating with her hands that her request included both she and Ixchell. To Chakotay's ears, Seven's Klingon sounded flawless, although he wasn't exactly sure what she had just said. Leave it to Seven to be able to speak Klingonese. The waiter hesitated a moment, perhaps to see if Seven would order anything further. When nothing more was forthcoming, he frowned, and moved off towards the kitchen without another word. Chakotay smiled to himself. Quadrotriticale. What was the adventure in that?
"What do you think of Q'onoS?" Chakotay asked, directing his question to Ixchell. "Those fire pits were pretty impressive." The young girl simply shook her head again. Chakotay smiled and gave her 'the look'. A look that indicated that sort of answer was insufficient and he was waiting for something more. He lifted his water glass and took a sip. There was a funny aftertaste, but otherwise cool and refreshing. Ixchell hadn't touched her glass.
"Loud," Ixchell finally replied.
Chakotay nodded. As if to punctuate her observation, there was another crash. The group in the corner were being particularly noisy. "It is that," he agreed.
"Smelly," Ixchell added. Chakotay wasn't sure if she was referring to the sulfur smell of the fire pits, or the smell of burnt Targ here in the restaurant. Or, the generally pungent smell that pervaded much of the capital city.
"What was your favorite part?" Chakotay asked.
Again Ixchell started to shake her head, but then added, "I'm not sure."
Just then, there was some growling and squealing coming from the kitchen, and then an animal, about the size of a dog, ran from the door and bolted between the tables. The creature was being chased by two Klingons, apparently two of the cooks in the restaurant. Suddenly a large Klingon women jumped up from one of the tables and stood in the animal's way. The creature's momentum carried it into the waiting Klingon's grasp, and the woman lifted it off the ground. The animal was now snarling and barring its teeth, but the woman easily held it firm and carried it back to the cooks. Her two children were jumping up and down and hollering their approval. Chakotay, who had turned around to watch, pivoted back to face his daughter again. Her eyes were open even wider than before, if that was possible.
"Targ," Chakotay commented looking between Ixchell and Seven. "A Klingon staple."
Seven simply shook her head and looked bemused.
The waiter now returned with two large bowls of what appeared to be a bluish rice, the quadrotriticale no doubt, and an equally large bowl of Chakotay's vegetable broth. He placed the bowls down roughly and then the appropriate utensils required to eat their meals. Chakotay had noticed many in the establishment foregoing utensils all together and simply using their hands, but the waiter undoubtedly assumed this would not be the case for them. "HoS," he chuckled, and then moved to the next table.
Ixchell was examining her meal dubiously. Seven and Chakotay held each other's hand and then reached their other arm across the table to each hold one of their daughter's hands. A family tradition at mealtimes. "Thank you for this food," Chakotay said softly. "May it nourish us and enable us to do your will."
They each nodded, and Seven picked up one of the fork-like utensils that had been left. She noted that one of the prongs was sharpened like a knife. "Be careful with your fork," she instructed and looked at her daughter. Ixchell reluctantly picked up the fork. Seven sampled a bit of the grain, frowned, and then shrugged. "Not too bad," she confessed. This gave Ixchell enough confidence to sample just a bit herself. She scrunched her face when the small forkful entered her mouth, but chewed and swallowed it nonetheless. She offered no comment, but put some more on for another forkful. She must have been famished. "A bit spicy," Seven added, turning to Chakotay. "Klingons apparently season their food liberally."
Chakotay had grasped the spoon that was provided, which appeared to have a serrated edge so he'd also have to be careful. All Klingon eating utensils could apparently be used as weapons in a pinch. He was about to dip the spoon into his bowl of vegetable broth when there was a ripple on the surface. It just so happened both Seven and Ixchell had been looking as well, and all three froze as the ripples died away. "What was that?" Chakotay asked. As if to answer his question, a small tentacled appendage appeared out of the bowl, moved around as if it was feeling for something, and then disappeared again beneath the surface. Chakotay dropped his spoon onto the table and Seven laughed a bit. Ixchell's eyes became saucers, opened as wide as they could possibly go.
"So that's kwan'zo," Seven commented with a large grin.
"Did you know?" Chakotay asked accusingly, but Seven put up her hands and feigned ignorance. The creature in the bowl splashed a bit and then edged up the side, now several tentacles visible, but then seemed to think better of it and returned to the relative safety of the broth. Now Chakotay laughed as well, and this seemed to break Ixchell from a spell and she started giggling.
"What is it?" Chakotay asked as Ixchell stopped giggling long enough to take another bite of the quadrotriticale.
"That was my favorite part of the day," Ixchell beamed.
Chakotay and Seven both laughed again. Chakotay picked up his spoon and leaned over to scoop up some of the grain in Ixchell's bowl. "I think I'll have the quadrotriticale like the two of you," he remarked, and put it all in his mouth with great flourish, much to Ixchell's approval and delight.
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THE END