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Comfort Food
Attempt #4

The replicator chimed. "One plate of tentacles from an Australian giant cuttlefish, flavored with lemon and orange zest, Szechuan peppercorns and extra virgin olive oil; presented with grilled asparagus and butter-flavored orzo noodles."

Taking the plate out cautiously, Gabriel Lorca inspected it and then allowed himself a smile. Although this wasn't the first time he'd given the replicator this particular order, it was the first time it had come out actually looking the way he'd expected it to. Hopefully, that was about to translate into actually being able to eat the meal.

Carrying it over to the standing desk in his ready room — something else that had taken three or four tries before engineering finally understood that he really didn't want a place to sit down in here — he picked up a fork and dug in. After the first bite, he closed his eyes in bliss. No, it wasn't quite as good as well-prepared fresh Kelpien, but after nearly a year stuck in this alternate universe, he was willing to accept a close substitute.

This was the closest he'd come so far. It had taken a fair number of experiments to find the correct combination of meat and seasonings, leaving him with a grudging appreciation of the food available in the humans' Federation. There was a lot more variety and the dishes tended to be fresher and better prepared. Most humans who enjoyed food as a hobby credited alien contact as a positive influence on culinary science, and he had to admit they weren't wrong.

Mimicking the human attitude toward alien cuisine had been the first thing he'd started doing in his attempts to blend into this society. Allowing himself a genuine appreciation of that one thing had helped him learn how to accept the idea of allowing alien influence into other aspects of human culture, even if he didn't agree with it. Good food didn't mean that aliens were as evolutionarily advanced as humans: even single-celled bacteria could differentiate among various sources of energy.

And after all, he mused as he took the next bite, in the end it had been Earth-based seafood and plant specialties — foods first domesticated and harvested by humans — that had proven to be the best substitutes.

A soft tone announced the presence of someone at the ready room door.

Lorca swallowed quickly, blotting his mouth. "Come in."

"Captain," said his first officer as he came in, allowing the door to slide shut behind him. "I'm sorry to interrupt your meal."

"Think nothing of it, Mr. Saru. What've you brought me?"

"Engineering is reporting that the last of the power leaks in the impulse drives are repaired, and that it resolved the surges in the phaser control systems as well."

"Have they tested that?"

"No," answered Saru. "That is why I am here. They've requested permission to break orbit for a few hours to go out past Mars and conduct some live-fire exercises."

"Tell them to go ahead. Is that all?"

"Yes, sir." But then he paused. "Captain, begging your pardon, but may I ask after your meal? The odor is somewhat…unique."

"An experiment, Commander. Trying to reproduce one of my favorites from home."

"I see. Was it successful?"

Pushing away the urge to wonder just how his first officer might taste had become automatic by now; Lorca had long since realized that Saru's lifestyle had likely rendered his muscles far too chewy and tasteless. But, as he looked from the Kelpien's face to the plate on his desk, that line of thinking abruptly resurrected itself. Who would've ever thought he would end up actually working with a member of a food species? As an equal?

Except that Kelpiens could never be equal to humans. And, he realized suddenly, the taste of human-style cuttlefish would never be quite as good as the ultimate delicacy from Terran cuisine.

With a grimace, Lorca picked up the plate containing his half-eaten meal and dumped it into the recycler. "No, actually, and now that you bring it up, I've lost my appetite."