Michael Garibaldi was a man on a mission. He clutched to his chest a small, brown box marked "Perishable".
Through a series of contacts and a great deal of hustling, he had managed to obtain a supply of oranges.
I'm risking my life for oranges, he mused as he slipped through the lesser used corridors of the station. And, I don't even like the things.
John Sheridan had been bemoaning the fact that the station's botanical garden didn't raise orange trees due to a lack of space. He had explained to anyone willing to listen that he had grown up having an orange a day, but once he joined Earth Force that had ceased.
Michael had grown tired of hearing it, so took it upon himself to get the man some oranges before Ivanova strangled him.
He walked into Command and Control. He got Sheridan's attention and tossed him an orange.
"What's this?" Sheridan inquired.
"Offhand I would say it's an orange," Michael retorted.
"I can see that."
"Call it breakfast, John."
"Thank you, Michael."
"You're welcome," Michael said before leaving the room.