Chapter 14 – Grilled Pineapple Crumble
"We have a birthday today," Lili told Will, reading off the master calendar on her PADD.
"Oh?"
"It's Lieutenant Reed – he's, um, lemme see. Forty-two," she decided, after calculating. Everyone's age calculation was a good 117 years before the actual, so Malcolm, who was truly born in 2112, was, by their reckoning, born in 1995.
"Ideas for a cake? I've made pineapple for him every year," Will said.
"I say go with what works," she confirmed, "but maybe we can grill the pineapple so it's all a tiny bit smoky and different. Give him something a little unexpected, eh?"
"You're in charge of that," Will said.
"You mean you'll direct him over here if he has any complaints, eh?"
"Something like that."
She set about slicing the pineapple thinly for the grill.
=/\=
Hoshi sat at her station, staring at the video feed from the planet. It wasn't that interesting; really just weather patterns going by as the occasional alien lizard checked out the two saplings. The orange tree was doing particularly well. The coconut palm seemed healthy but its growth was a bit slower than expected.
She finally said, "We should name the hot planet."
Jonathan looked at her, "I beg your pardon?"
"Well, we shouldn't just say we're going to a planet. And in particular that'll matter when we – er, if we – can use the other one." They were on their way to the second planet, and were a few days from arrival.
"That's true," the captain allowed, "What would you suggest?"
"Some sort of hot place, like New Chile, or something, I dunno," she said.
"Maybe we could put it to a vote," Travis suggested, "we could have nominations and a campaign and everything."
"Long as New Florida isn't among the nominees," Tripp muttered, busy at the Engineering station.
"Got it," Hoshi commiserated.
"Have you got any other activities in the pipeline?" Jonathan asked.
"I have a few," she confirmed, and turned on her PADD to look at the list, "There's, um, a 5K race, maybe we could have it on the northern continent of the first planet, uh, there's a chess tournament, a cooking class, a boxing demonstration," her voice trailed off, "and that's about it so far."
"Could we have the chess tournament?" Malcolm asked.
"Do you think there would be interest in it?" Jonathan asked.
"I would be interested," Travis confirmed.
"I figure we'll never know unless we ask," Hoshi said.
"All right," Archer replied, "A chess tournament it is. After we visit the second planet, all right? And in the meantime, Hoshi, put out a note to everyone, calling for nominations for naming the first planet. We'll vote on, what do you think? Let's give three days, and vote on the fifth. And let's not drag it out any later than the sixth."
"I'll get right on it, sir."
=/\=
Nominations for Planet Name!
Get your idea into the history books! We are having a competition to name the tropical planet. All ideas are welcome. Nominations are due at twenty-three hundred fifty-nine hours on the fourth of September. We will vote on the nominees on the fifth. Voting will end at fourteen hundred hours on that day. Ties will be decided later on the fifth, if necessary. The winner will be announced on the sixth.
Lili read the message on her PADD aloud. "So what would you name that planet?" she asked Will as she started cooking the pineapple on the grill.
"What?"
"The planet – you know, the one with the tropical and Mediterranean continents? What would you name it?"
"Uh, I dunno. Why do you ask?"
"Will, didn't you pay attention to what I just said? There's going to be a competition. I guess the winner gets naming rights. We'll vote in a few days and everything."
"I'll think about it."
=/\=
At dinner that night, the crew was abuzz with ideas for names. Lieutenant Reed cut his cake in the Captain's Mess. "Let me know how you like it," Lili hovered a little anxiously.
"I'm sure it'll be wonderful."
"Well, you see, I was trying out something new," she admitted, "because I've been trying to figure out how to serve a Kosher cake if we have a meat meal," she explained.
"Oh?" Archer asked.
"See, I wouldn't be able to make it with dairy. So I admit I experimented a bit with Lieutenant Reed's cake here. Commander," she told T'Pol, "it's totally vegan."
"What did ya use instead o' butter?" Tripp inquired.
"Oleo and a little magic," she winked, "I didn't even add eggs. So it's a bit more like a pie, as you can see. It doesn't have a lot of structural integrity – that's due to the lack of eggs. Maybe we should call it a crumble?"
Malcolm tasted it tentatively. "It's a little smoky."
"Is that bad?"
"No, not at all," he smiled a bit, "It's rather unexpected, a bit of a surprise there. Well done, Ensign."
"Thank you, sir." She took the cake from him and began slicing it up for the others.
=/\=
Malcolm Reed's Personal Log, September second, 2037
I was not expecting my forty-second birthday to take place in 2037, but that is what we are dealing with. And so I am settling into a spot of middle age long before the birth of my long-deceased grandparents. Life is still rather upside-down, and that can be unsettling. The date certainly brings that to the fore.
Still, it was as festive as it could have been. Ensign O'Day made me a pineapple cake or, rather, it was a bit more like a pie or she called it something else; I forget what. In the past few years, I have suffered through Chef's creations in this area, including a pineapple upside-down cake that I felt was far too cloyingly sweet. Plus all of those were chockfull of dairy and I suffered afterwards. I suppose in my medical file there is a line item for visits on September the third of every year.
But not this year! The cake was not made from dairy at all. And it had an intriguing smoky flavor. I imagine the pineapple was grilled somehow, perhaps even glazed with some such or other. Be that as it may, it was a true surprise, at a time when I had thought that there could not possibly be any surprises.
Hoshi has set up a chess tournament. I do not yet know my opponents, but I don't imagine everyone is interested in this activity. I need to keep cool, lure them all into a false sense of security. And then I shall pounce – much like I shall do to some unsuspecting female, I suppose. Let's see if any of my opponents are of the fairer sex. Checkmate as foreplay? Bring on the Sicilian Defense, then!
=/\=
Hoshi Sato's Personal Log, September second, 2037
I have gotten sixteen people for the chess tournament. Captain Archer wants to hold it on the sixth, on the day that we'll announce the winner of the planet-naming contest. I have an idea for a second prize after that.
In other news, man, I am such a chicken! I have considered asking Miller out, and I guess he would be receptive, particularly now that Bernstein is showing signs that she's with Rosen. Would he be okay with me? I am a lapsed Buddhist. I am not about to become Jewish. Does that matter to him? Would he want his kids to be half-Japanese?
=/\=
Jonathan Archer's Personal Log, September second, 2037
Hoshi tells me that she's gotten a few ideas for the name for the hot planet. Fortunately, this other one we are going to is probably a bit cooler, given the size of its star and its distance from that star.
Plus we'll have a chess tournament. That's not exactly my idea of fun, but apparently we have sixteen takers, so we can have a well put-together tournament. I've decided, as captain, to allow betting on the games. It's nothing much – really just small ration packs. T'Pol was a little concerned about that but I assured her that we would collect the ration packs when it was all over. No one's going to walk away with a ton of our emergency food just because they predicted the winner of the tournament.
=/\=
T'Pol's Personal Log, September second, 2037
My relationship with Commander Tucker is proceeding smoothly.
I have had no problems meditating in the last few months, despite the somewhat unsettling news about our detour into the past. The Vulcan Science Directorate had shown that time travel is impossible, yet here we are. I suppose our existence, in a way, is a counterargument to theirs. When our descendants arrive in 2154, it would be most logical for them to present their findings to the Directorate.
As for whether any of them will be my own descendants; that remains to be seen. I am of two minds in that area. While I would welcome the chance to continue my line and also fulfill the promise of Pon Farr, it will not be with a Vulcan. That much is obvious, for a trip to Vulcan is out of the question, at least for that purpose. To have a temporally paradoxical child would be unwise.
My sole prospect is Commander Tucker, and I am unsure as to whether we can produce viable offspring. Perhaps we cannot, and such speculation is futile. Or perhaps the Commander's somewhat volatile nature would preclude such a product of our relationship, even if it were possible. That is, we have not discussed the matter, and we have not discussed whether we are truly serious. If children are possible, there is the very real possibility that he would balk.
It is only logical for me to consider this as a possible issue.
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