Chapter 4 - Parsnips
Lili set out toast and various jams as Captain Archer walked into his private dining area. "Good morning," she said.
"Good morning. What's under the warmers?"
"Three omelets. I made you one with Swiss. Is that okay?"
"Sure. I smell sausage, too."
"Yep. It's the kind that's not too spicy."
The door swished open. It was Major Hayes and Lieutenant Reed. They both hesitated, each letting the other one walk in first, a complete and utter stalemate. Jonathan finally said, "Major, we don't have all day."
Lili smiled to herself a little bit. "I've got blueberry and strawberry jams, and orange marmalade. Plus there's butter. There are mild sausages on the side, and omelets. Cheese for the captain," she said as she served, "Mexican for Lieutenant Reed and a Western for you, Major. I do hope I guessed right."
"Yeah, this is good, thanks," Hayes replied; looking at a few sliced tomatoes that were only on his plate and then reaching for the blueberry jam.
There was a slice of avocado on Malcolm's plate that wasn't on the others'. He smiled to himself as he speared it with his fork.
"I called you both here," Jonathan began, "because it's beginning to look more and more like the Enterprise is going to become a generational ship."
Lili stood at the back of the room and fiddled a bit with the coffee maker. The smell of a Sumatran blend began to permeate the air as the men ate in silence. She was bursting to talk, but it was not her place. She could not figure out why no one was commenting on such a bombshell.
She watched as Malcolm smeared orange marmalade on his toast, and Jonathan cut up a slice of cantaloupe on his plate. The others didn't have cantaloupe. Jay Hayes got up. "You need something, sir?" she asked.
"I was gonna get coffee."
"How do you take it?"
"Uh, black." He sat back down and she served him. And then she realized – he had probably not had a meal in the Captain's Mess before.
"Sir," Malcolm ventured, "you were saying earlier?"
"Yes," Jonathan nodded, "I, uh, there's the issue of the ratio. There are almost two men for every woman on board. Fifty-eight to thirty-four."
Lili brought over a hot water kettle and a selection of teas for Malcolm. He nodded his thanks to her and said, "I suppose the situation could become rather uncomfortable."
"Yes," Jonathan said, "and since both of you run departments that are mainly composed of men, I believe that morale is going to become particularly key for Tactical and the MACOs."
"I'll keep my men in line," Jay promised.
"What happens when they're off-duty?" Malcolm asked, "You can't just watch them for every moment of every single day, you know."
"We'll be fine," Jay insisted, bristling a little, remembering the incident in the gym, "how's Security gonna be? That division is nearly all male."
"We'll manage," Malcolm vowed, also getting a bit defensive.
"I was thinking," Jonathan interjected, "if there are, uh, if there are gay members of either department, or really in any of the departments, that could ease the issues with the ratio."
The three men stared at each other in silence.
"Of course," Lili interrupted, "it really throws a wrench in things if any of the women end up preferring each other." She paused, "Uh, sorry that I was eavesdropping."
"No, you've got a point there," Jonathan said, "of course no one knows any of that. And it's improper to ask."
"We won't know anything about preferences until people begin pairing up, sir," Malcolm stated.
"Morale is going to be key," Jonathan repeated, "make sure your people fully cooperate with Ensign Sato's Morale Committee. Try to, uh, try to support what they'll be doing. You can both be forces for good."
His plate was clear so Lili approached. "Can I take that, sir?"
"Sure," the captain said, "uh, Ensign?"
"Yes, sir?"
"From your perspective, this, uh, this situation has got to be, uh, interesting."
She thought for a moment. "The numbers definitely work in my favor. But I don't kid myself. I know the other women are younger and better-looking than me." She took the rest of the dirty dishes and left.
Jonathan looked at the other two men. "Before this is over, she might be fighting all three of us off. Dismissed."
=/\=
Hoshi sat at her station on the Bridge, trying to think of projects to help with morale. She had Movie Night; putting on a cooking demonstration; 5K race around the Gym and shore leave on an unknown planet on her list. And then she was stumped.
"Penny for your thoughts," Travis said.
"Huh? Oh, just trying to figure out what to do to keep morale up."
"Maybe we could have a chess tournament."
She nodded and added that to her list.
=/\=
Craig Willets entered the galley, a place he rarely visited. "Uh, I was told to work on the replicators?"
Chef Slocum approached him. "They're working just fine, Crewman."
"No, uh, I'm here to try to program in more choices."
"Oh, well, uh, Lili will be back soon," he went back to what he'd been doing, which was taking inventory of their supplies.
Lili came in with the cart full of dirty dishes. "Man," she said, "it's already getting uncomfortable and we haven't even had the announcement yet!" She laughed a little. "Oh, hi," she said when she saw Craig, "you lost?"
"No, ma'am. I'm, uh, I'm here to try to add to the programming for the replicators."
"Oh, yeah! How do you wanna do that?" she asked as she began to load the dishes into the sanitizer.
"I was hoping you had a plan."
"Huh. Well, uh, maybe you just try something. Just, anything. I don't care what. And we'll see how it goes. And in the meantime, Chef Slocum and I'll start to make a list, okay? Now if you'll excuse me, I have to clean up and then start peeling carrots to make cakes for tonight. I hate to put you off, but I've got to get my regular work done," she suggested, "how about we meet at maybe, I dunno, fourteen hundred hours? I should have a couple of hours then. More, if you don't mind watching me cook dinner. That okay for you?"
"Sure," Craig left.
"Well, what should we put on the list?" she asked, getting out a cleaning solution and towels.
"I barely know where to begin," Will said, "Sausages? Lettuce? Pancake flour? We don't even know if any of it'll work."
=/\=
It was fourteen hundred hours, and Craig really had something. He had looked up a chemical analysis of what he wanted to make. He programmed the replicator and went through a few iterations, finally liking the flavor. Then he worked on the texture and the color. "Is this still a good time?" he asked as he entered.
"Sure," Lili said, "the cakes are being refrigerated and we're making pasta tonight, so it's easy. No worries."
"I have a surprise for you," he said, "uh, close your eyes, okay?"
"Okay," she said, a little skeptically.
He punched in a few codes on the replicator and brought a plate over. "Hold out your hand." She did so, and he put what he'd made in her hand. "Uh, taste that," he said, "please," he added.
She nibbled at it tentatively. "It's crunchy. And a little sweet. But it's not too sweet. Is it a parsnip?"
"It's supposed to be a carrot."
She opened her eyes. "Can you make it less orangey? If it's kind of a grey-yellow, it could work as a parsnip. Can it be roasted?"
=/\=
Dinner was served. In the Captain's Mess, it was Jonathan, T'Pol and Tripp. Lili brought in a small plate first with a few grey-yellow julienned strips on it. "I have something new that I'd like you to try."
"Oh?" Jonathan asked.
"It's vegan," she said, gazing at T'Pol. The Vulcan didn't eat any animal products.
They all took some. Tripp asked, "What is it?" after he'd had some.
"It's roasted parsnips," Lili said.
"Parsnips?" Jonathan asked, "I don't think I've ever had them." He took a taste. "They're good. But maybe they could use a little salt."
"Commander?" Lili asked T'Pol.
She took a taste. "This is a root vegetable?"
"Yes," Lili said, "can I make them again, do you think?"
"Sure," Jonathan said.
Lili smiled and opened the door. "Come in a second, Craig."
Craig entered the room. He had never been in there before, and it was considerably more uncomfortable than the galley had been. He looked around nervously. "So, uh, did you like them?" he asked.
"Yeah," Tripp said, "somethin' you're not tellin' us, Willets?"
"They're resequenced protein, sir."
"Really?" Jonathan asked.
"It was our first attempt," Lili explained.
"Parsnips," Jonathan said, "whatever possessed you to start with parsnips?"
"Well, we were aiming for carrots, sir," Craig admitted.
"But we hit parsnips instead!" Lili enthused.
Jonathan smiled. "And you can make these again at any time?"
"Yes, sir," Craig said, "Shelby doesn't even have parsnips in the Botany Lab. This is it, if anyone wants 'em."
"Can we make them for the rest of the crew?" Lili asked.
"Sure!" Jonathan laughed, "Parsnips for my men!"
"Huzzah!" Craig cheered, and then lowered his head, feeling like he'd overdone it, particularly when he saw T'Pol raise an eyebrow at him.
"I'll add them to the rotation, sir," Lili said as she served the main course.
=/\=
When the dinner was over, she went into the main cafeteria. The MACOs were all still sitting there with Major Hayes as her roommate, Jenny Crossman, departed with the night shift Tactical Officer, Aidan MacKenzie. Most of the MACOs also got up, bused their trays and departed, leaving her with Hayes and Chang.
She took a plate of the pasta for herself and sat down at an empty table. "This seat taken?" Hayes asked.
"Of course not," she said, "If you don't mind watching me eat."
"Private Chang here," he said, "will be helping you for a week."
"Helping?"
"He'll do whatever you want him to do," Jay said.
"Oh." She twirled a bit of the pasta on her fork.
"He can start tonight, if you have something for him to do."
"The dishes need to go into the sanitizer, and then when that's done about ten minutes later, they get put away. Plus the tables need to be cleaned off and the floor gets cleaned. I also look over tomorrow's menu and figure out how the day will go."
"You heard her," Hayes commanded, "start loading the sanitizer so that she can eat her dinner," he looked at her when Chang left, "uh, let me know if he gives you a hard time at all."
=/\=
Charlotte Lilienne O'Day's Personal Log, January twentieth, 2154.
Suddenly I have a helper. It's weird.
He is not a terribly enthusiastic helper. But I guess I shouldn't complain. It's only for a week, anyway. I don't think the guy's got any good knife skills. I suppose I'll just lean on him for cleaning help.
Oh! I should mention who that is, eh?
It's Private Chang. Now, I don't kid myself. I am well aware that soldiers, since the beginning of time, have been put on KP duty when they've been, uh, naughty. Maybe it goes back to Roman times. Can you imagine, some poor Marcus Incredibulus or whatever, being forced to make liquamen for the Emperor's troops?!
But I digress.
I have no idea what Chang did wrong but, whatever it is, he is royally perturbed. I think it would be a very good idea for me to mainly keep him off knife detail. Not that he would do anything – I just know that angry people shouldn't be chopping anything.
=/\=
Jay Hayes's Personal log, January twentieth, 2154.
Well, so far, so good, for Chang. I guess he'll be all right in the galley.
There was a meeting with Captain Archer. And it was strange. I get the feeling he was trying to determine whether Reed and I are gay men. I mean, of course it's not his business, but in a way I guess it almost is, suddenly.
Everybody is thinking about the ratio. The number of men, and the number of women – it's a distraction already. I can't blame the captain or anyone else if they hope that someone will voluntarily bow out of the competition.
Well, I'm out of that competition, but it's not for that reason. God knows I'm not attracted to guys.
It's all about Susan.
I know it was years ago. And now, suddenly, it's years from now. And that's even stranger, but there you have it.
Things did not end well with her. I am, I behaved pretty badly. It's not like I was a player. I was loyal to her, and she to me. We had something that felt good, and it felt special. But then, God, how do you stay together when you're being cheated on? And how do you get past the fact that, well, she was not cheating on me with another man. Or even with another woman, for that matter.
She was cheating on me with a bottle of synthale.
Every night. That was her lover. And it didn't take long, it was a few months, and it just tore everything apart. And she couldn't stop, yanno? It's funny. They say you're supposed to let alcoholics hit rock bottom and then, if they survive rehab, they pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, and they go on with their lives, and they get better, right? Isn't that what's supposed to happen, right? Am I right?
What they don't tell you is how you, the enabler, how it's gonna make you feel. Enabler. Only for a little while, but still!
She would drink, I would withdraw, and she would tell me that she loved me. And me, oh God, I am such a coward. 'Cause I can dress it up and make it pretty and all of that, but I didn't just go because I didn't want to enable her anymore. I went because I was feeling trapped. And I went because I couldn't handle her drinking.
And I left because I couldn't tell her that I loved her.
And now it's too late.
=/\=
Malcolm Reed's Personal log, January twentieth, 2154.
I suppose if I were a truly organized chap, I would carefully rank all of the women. I'd get myself a tote board, and I'd painstakingly score them on the basis of, well, of what, exactly?
Attractiveness, well, yes, to be sure. But also other things. Intelligence. Heart. Kindness. And the most important bit – whether I have any sort of a chance with, well, with any of them.
It does not help that my own captain seems to think I prefer men.
I don't suppose I've done enough to disabuse him or anyone else of that notion. I have remained withdrawn from most of the women here. It's that last bit, you see. I scarcely think I have a shot with any of them.
It's not that I don't work hard.
I work out almost every single day. I can probably bench press more than anyone but Hayes.
Hayes.
I get the feeling the captain was hoping that Hayes and I would, for some reason, ride off into the sunset together.
God.
But getting back to it all, I do work hard. I make an effort to be well-groomed and pleasant. I am as attentive as I can be. I take an interest in them, in all of them.
Perhaps it would be best if I were to focus my attentions.
There's that tote board idea again.
But there is one class that I can exclude more or less immediately. I am a few months' shy of my fortieth birthday. I cannot imagine myself with any of the women who are under the age of thirty. It simply feels too wrong, like too much of a gap.
And blondes. That's amusing, eh? Here I am, all worried 'bout my own appearance while I almost insist on that from women. But I admit it. I do have a thing for yellow hair.
=/\=
Jonathan Archer's Personal log, January twentieth, 2154.
I don't imagine I could be doing this any worse than I am. It was just dumb of me, but what I am supposed to do? And it's too soon. God, I am the captain, and I am supposed to be cool about these things, but the reality is I am acting like a middle schooler!
The decision is mine to make, and I have made it. The Enterprise is going to become a generational ship. There's no getting around it. In the meantime, though, I need to get it through my head that middle school questions like – do you like her? And do you like girls at all? – Those questions are off the table.
And it's not like I would normally care if any of my crew members were gay. There are probably a few. Statistically speaking, that's practically a given. But right now, it looms large. Fifty-eight men and thirty-four women – so twenty-four men are going to be left out in the cold unless some of these men decide they, well, that they want to play for the other team.
I am not one of those men and, it was foolish of me, trying to get Reed or Hayes to admit to that. It was a bad idea. I couldn't have accomplished anything with that, anyway. Yet I still danced around the subject and kinda, sorta, asked.
We should all wear name tags or something, color-coded, and with our preferences clearly spelled out on them. Me? I am looking for a dark-haired woman. Shelby Pike? Yeah, right. She's far too young. So many of them are so young. And I can't just pull rank in this area, can I?
=/\=
Jennifer Crossman's Personal log, January twentieth, 2154.
My roommate talks in her sleep. I don't mind so much – and this is not the first time I've noticed it – but the other night she was going on about guys.
It's funny, it's even in our subconscious minds. I always thought I would meet someone special and amazing. I always thought I would have a choice. I guess we've all got to make the most of it.
I just wish my roommate would go back to murmuring about broiling scrod in her sleep. She's the assistant to Chef and that was always kinda comforting, that I would get to bed and she'd already be asleep and I'd hear her humming some old French song or nattering on about cranberries.
But now it's about guys. She was talking about Paul. There is no Paul on the ship. Maybe it's a guy she left behind. I don't know. She and I don't share much. I cannot imagine what it's like for people who left someone behind. Now you know you're never going to see them again. It's hard enough knowing I will not see my parents – who have not been born yet.
I should reach out to Lili, if she's really suffering, so much that she's dreaming about this, this Paul. I hope he knew how she felt.
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