30
Food for Thought
On the bridge of the Enterprise-A, Ensign Alexandria Munro anticipates the end of her shift as the doors of Turbo Lift 1 part to free the night shift from its confines. Lieutenant Suri Dailia steps out of the lift and approaches Alexandria Munro at Helm control.
"Ensign Munro, I am ready to relieve you," says Suri Dailia.
Alexandria stands up.
"I am ready to be relieved," replies Alexandria Munro.
"Anything to report Ensign?" asks Suri Dailia
"So far, all clear, ma'am,"
"Excellent, you are relieved, Ensign Munro,"
"I stand relieved,"
Suri comes besides Alexandria and whispers into her ear. "Thanks for coming back for me."
Alexandria smiles back. "Anytime."
"I'm having a birthday party tomorrow, I would like you to come,"
"Me? Why?"
"Just come, Ensign,"
"Yes, ma'am,"
With a subtle nod Alexandria takes her leave and follows another relieved officer into Turbo Lift 1.
"Officer's deck," instructs one of the officers and then turns to Munro.
"Mess hall," commands Munro.
Turbo Lift 1 acknowledges with a melodic chime and begins its descent.
"Feeling hungry?" asks one of the off-duty officers.
"Famished, sir,"
"Well I hope there's something palatable at the mess hall?"
Munro winces. "Sir?"
Turbo Lift 1 comes to a stop at the officer's quarter's level.
"Never mind, ensign," regretting he said anything. "carry on."
"Yes sir,"
Befuddled with the exchange Alexandria exits Turbo Lift 1 and makes her way to the mess hall. She enters the mess hall and immediately takes notice of a brewing altercation between a young crewman and a male Cardassian.
"What is this!" complains a ginger haired crewman.
"Food," replies Garath, the Mess Hall monitor.
Disgusted at the sight of the cuisine on his tray, the crewman tosses back the tray.
"I'm not eating this!"
"That, crewman, is all we have available for today."
The crewman screws up his face and walks away, passing Alexandria as she approaches the serving table.
"You may want to reconsider, crewman, tomorrow's palate is even more exotic," calls back Garath and then turns his attention to Munro. "Ensign Munro, sorry about the disruption, what can I get you?"
"Uhh... what's available?" she asks.
"I've got lamb steak, clam chowder, Bolian salad..."
"No chicken or beef?"
"I'm sorry, Ensign Munro. The food dispensers are currently inoperable therefore I could only prepare a select number of dishes. The selection accounts for the multitudes of species aboard the Enterprise. Beef is not a popular nourishment. The Bolian Salad, on the other hand, is quite popular amongst non-human species."
"Right – ," replies Munro, and then points over to a selection. "The lamb steak and a Bolian Salad"
"There you are," smiles Garath as he hands over a plate of lamb steaks with a side of Bolian salad.
"Enjoy."
Alexandria takes the plate and heads over to an empty table near a large bay window that overlooks the stars beyond. Though trying to keep to herself, she can't help but overhear the intense conversation bubbling to the table next to her. The same crewman who verbally accosted Garath, isn't finished, and he begins to devolve into a rant.
"Hey did you hear?!" loudly says the young red-haired crewman, still irate.
'No, what?" replies Grace Barrett, seated beside him.
"Starfleet is losing!"
Barrett executes a practiced eye roll.
"It's true!" he exclaims. "We're getting killed out there!" slamming his fist onto the table. "The Breen are eating our lunch, pun intended," adds the crewman, then overs his shoulder back at Garath.
Garath so well hides his attention on the table at the far side of the mess that one could only guess that his focus was completely on the crew that he was serving. But one should know better, for every cardassian's natural instinct is to surveil as if a member of the Obsidian order.
"Look Jeff," says Barret. "I know you've been under a lot of stress, you know, fixing consoles, but Starfleet isn't losing."
"Please!" Jeff retorts in disgust. "Tell me you're not buying all that Starfleet propaganda. Listen the Breen have us corned in all sectors. We're running low on everything. We can't even get a decent meal, okay! Open your eyes, we're losing and badly."
A Starfleet officer suddenly appears from nowhere besides the dining table and interrupts the rant.
"Excuse me," says the Lieutenant.
"Sir," straightens up Jeff replies with a wobbly voice.
"Contrary to belief held at this table, we are not losing. I have personally reviewed several high-level Starfleet communicates that report that several campaigns against the Breen have achieved decisive victorious. The Breen have taken tremendous losses and the temporary shortages of resources are a direct result of a stepped-up assault on the Breen. Is that understood!"
"Yes sir,"
"Report to your duty stations, now," says the lieutenant with a jerk of his head.
"We're still off duty for another thirty minutes," Jeff complains.
"Then you'll be early and your extra efforts will only add to the ongoing war effort," says the officer. "Get to it, before I write you all up."
"Yes sir," he sighs.
"Go on," adds the officer to Barrett.
"Why couldn't you just keep your mouth shut," mutters Barret.
Alexandria watches as the table beside her disbands. Her attention switches to the lieutenant who quietly sighs in the corner after they leave. Realizing she is watching him he quickly straightens up and leaves the Mess Hall without delay. His demeanor sends a cold chill down Alexandria's spine.