Basil
For dreamplum
By Gumnut
19 Apr 2006

He stared at it.

"Spock, are you sure about this?"

His first officer looked up from where he was working on the other side of the lab. "Captain?"

"I mean, are you really sure?"

"If you doubt my abilities, sir, you are welcome to speak to Doctor McCoy."

Great, now he'd hurt the man's feelings, lack thereof or not. There went his chance to back out of the room, hunt down McCoy and find out what the doctor had stashed away. "No, no, Spock. This is fine. It's just…" Should he ask? Did he really want to know? "Never mind."

He knew he was being subjected to a very arched eyebrow, he could almost feel it etching into the skin of his temple.

"So, uh, how was your day?" Make with the small talk.

"Ineffectual in the majority. Mr Scott has failed to reconstruct the required circuits and I bow to his knowledge in this instance. It appears the creatures disabled the entire system."

Kirk, of course, already knew this. Even if he hadn't read the report hand delivered by one very red faced Scotsman, he would have been fully educated on the situation by the snarls and rather colourful profanity emanating from engineering for most of the day. "Is he still down there?"

"Yes. It appears defeat is not in Mr Scott's vocabulary."

"Something to value in an engineer."

"I would have to agree."

Kirk sighed. "Let me know if it becomes a problem. I'd prefer to keep him out of sickbay if at all possible. The man is obsessive."

"I believe it comes with the career choice."

Again with that eyebrow. Kirk was beginning to wonder if it was a telepathic transmitting aerial or some such. He refused to look at his first officer. But he was beginning to wonder which would be worse, looking at the Vulcan or looking at the substance on the table.

"So, you're sure?"

Did the Vulcan sigh? "Yes, Captain. The ingredients were quite simple to procure and the combination of them required little skill."

Kirk really didn't want to know and his expression reflected that.

Another eyebrow. "Perhaps it is I who should be asking you as to the strength of your certainty."

Kirk blinked at his first officer. "I think you're enjoying this far too much."

"Not in the slightest, Captain, I can assure you."

Kirk muttered something that was far from agreement and was assassinated by that eyebrow once more. But there was no avoiding the inevitable. It certainly wouldn't look good if the Captain of the Enterprise died of starvation simply because he turned his nose up at emergency sustenance.

If only it didn't smell so awful.

And staring at the intercom begging for Mr Scott to declare the food processors repaired was hardly a solution either.

"Captain?" The Vulcan took the seat across from him with his own bowl of grey goop.

"Yes, Mr Spock?"

"Are you quite alright?"

If he said 'no', could a quick rush to sickbay get him out of this? "I'm fine." Great universal word, that. But Spock had turned to his bowl of mush and had begun spooning it into his mouth. A moment of hesitation as the Vulcan tasted the concoction before swallowing and attacking the meal with his usual logical efficiency and precision.

Kirk looked at his bowl.

Wet paper mache looked more appetising. But then the base solids the processors used to make his daily meals weren't designed to be appetising in their raw form. The key word was 'processor' after all. Somehow manual efforts didn't quite live up to the machinery's reputation.

"Any chance of getting more from the engines?" He even sounded desperate to himself.

"Not without serious risk." Between mouthfuls and without a single slurred word. Damn Vulcans anyway.

"So three weeks it is."

"Yes, Captain."

A sigh and he stuck his spoon into the grey muck. Perhaps if he closed his eyes he could imagine it was oatmeal.

And perhaps he could ask McCoy to surgically remove his nose.

He frowned at it a moment, peering a little closer. "Uh, Spock, what's the green stuff?"

"Basil."

Kirk blinked. "Basil?"

"Yes, Captain." And then, obviously at Kirk's questioning look, "I thought you might like some flavour with your meal."

Another blink. "Where did you get it from?"

"The arboretum."

"Oh." Why did his science officer always manage to go that one step further and surprise him? "Uh, thank you, Mr Spock."

"You are welcome, Captain."

Perhaps with a little less trepidation, Kirk scooped up some of the mess with his spoon. Another frown. "And the red stuff?"

"Chilli."

"Chilli? Where did you get chilli from?!" Kirk looked a little strangely at his first officer.

"Lieutenant Sulu. He has had been cultivating Acturian chillies for some time and has quite a selection of dried specimens."

"Okay." A moment passed as he peered even closer at the contents of his bowl. "Anything else in here I should know about?" Perhaps he should have asked after all.

"Olives, dried tomatoes and oregano"

Kirk stared at him. "Dare I ask where you obtained those from or should I assume the crew has a market garden stashed in the cargo hold no one bothered to tell me about?"

Spock answered him, calm and with little concern. "Several crew members approached me with suggestions regarding the creation of edible material. The base substances are designed with manipulation in mind so it is a simple matter to introduce complimentary flavours to improve its palatability. Once I realised there were quite a few condiments onboard, I called for an assessment of what was available. It appears many of the crew find the food processors lacking in some way and have obtained their own additions. A pooling of our resources and some rationing has provided us with enough 'flavour additives' to last us until we can rendezvous with the Potemkin." Spock took a sip of his drink.

Kirk stared at Spock a moment longer. "That's great, Spock." And a grin split his face. Perhaps this wasn't going to be as bad as he thought. He took the spoonful and, holding his breath, put it in his mouth.

Every taste bud, and several of his teeth, suddenly died a horrible death under the assault of a mixture of a ghastly strong aniseed and bitter lemon. "Oh god…" The words sputtered from his lips as he struggled to hold his stomach in. "Sp…Spock!"

Through the tears suddenly clogging his eyes, Kirk saw the Vulcan's calm expression flicker to one of alarm. "Captain?"

Kirk managed to swallow and coughed several times, his eyes watering. "What the hell….you've got to be kidding me…"

Spock's expression flickered for the briefest of moments to one of confusion before settling into its more familiar stoic façade. "Captain?"

"What else is in it?" He pointed rather emphatically at the bowl of goop. He didn't fail to notice the fact Spock's bowl was now empty.

"Nothing, sir."

"No, you have to have added something else. It sounds Italian, but it certainly doesn't taste Italian. In fact, I don't think I'm ever going to be able to taste again." He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth and grabbed his glass of water, desperate to get rid of any remnants.

"Italian? It is hardly Italian, captain."

Kirk stared at him. "But…"

"I would never use Vulcan sentraya basil in an Italian dish."

-o-o-o-