Chapter 8: Dinner

Viscous pink fluid twisted in a jar. Tiny corkscrew organisms flitted through the pink like birds in an eternal microsunset. The jar turned, but the liquid and the flitters pretty much stayed the way they were, enjoying their brainless dance.

"Love what you've done with the place. ..."

Archer turned the jar, watching the little life-forms squiggle.

"Those are immunocytic gel worms," Phlox explained happily. "Try not to shake them."

Buffy took the jar from Archer and handed it to Phlox. "My apologies, John can be a little curious at times."

Archer turned his attention to the unconscious Klingon lying on the biobed, not sure what to really ask Phlox.

"So, what'd you think of Earth?" Dawn asked bailing Archer out.

"Intriguing," Phlox said. "I especially liked the Chinese food. Have you ever tried it?"

Handing off articles from the packing box on top of the desk, Archer shrugged. "I've lived in San Francisco all my life."

"Anatomically, you humans are somewhat simplistic," Phlox said. "But what you lack biologically, you make up for with your charming optimism. Not to mention your egg drop soup. Be very careful with the blue box."

Gingerly, Buffy took the box from Archer who had picked it up and handed it to Phlox.

"What's in there?" Archer asked.

"An Altairian marsupial. Their droppings contain the greatest concentration of regenerative enzymes found anywhere."

"Their droppings?" Dawn asked.

"If you're going to try to embrace new worlds, you must try to embrace new ideas."

Dawn smiled. "Ah," she said. "Like you. I sense you find this exchange entertaining."

Phlox blinked as he looked at Dawn. "I was not aware humans had developed empathic abilities."

"They haven't," Dawn said. "I'm unique. Don't worry you will find out how unique as you are being given clearance to mine and Buffy's files."

"Sorry I had to take you away from your program," Archer finally spoke up, "but our doctors haven't even heard of a Klingon."

"Please!" Phlox blurted. "No apologies! What better time to study human beings than when they're under pressure? It's a rare opportunity! And your Klingon friend ... I've never had a chance to examine a living one before!"

"Ensign Mayweather tells us we'll be to Qo'noS in about eighty hours." Buffy said.

"Any chance he'll be conscious by then?" Archer added.

"There's a chance he'll be conscious within the next ten minutes," Phlox said. "Just not a very good one."

"Doc," Dawn said. "He needs to walk. If he can't walk, he's as good as dead."

"I'll do the best I can." Phlox smiled infectiously—and his smile got bigger, bigger ... bigger ... weirder ... "Optimism!"

"I'll leave you two to go over your medical records with the doctor," Archer said as he headed for the door. "Remember dinner at shift change."

"We'll be there," Buffy said.

Dawn walked over to the computer and tapped in a command and pulled up hers and Buffy's medical files. "These files are for your eyes only. If you need to talk to someone about these files, the only person you are cleared to talk to is myself, Buffy and Captain Archer."

Phlox moved over to the console and looked at the files his eyes widening. "You can do all that and you don't age?" he asked.

"We both can't do it all," Buffy said. "Dawn has the main Millennial gifts. I on the other hand only have the fact that I don't age and like Dawn can't die."

Phlox looked to Dawn. "You're empathic," he said. "And have the ability to fire electrical energy from the palm of your hand. Remarkable. I would ask for a demonstration, but a starship is not the best place."

"I can regulate the intensity," Dawn said. "But you're right it's not the best place."

"How do you acquire the energy, does your body produce it?"

"My body produces no more electrical energy than yours does. While I can use my own and yours, the best sources of electrical energy are the sources around us."

0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0

Buffy and Dawn followed Tucker as he strode from the mess hall into the captain's private mess chamber. It was a pleasantly appointed room with a table for six, warmly lit by two candles provided by the captain's steward as a first-meal gift. There was no food yet, but only a basket of breadsticks between the candles.

"You should've started without me," Tucker declared.

"Sit down," Archer said, afraid Tucker might get away.

Tucker sat in a chair beside Archer as Buffy and Dawn sat opposite them. He snatched up a breadstick. Noisily he began to gnaw, paying special attention to the sesame seeds.

T'Pol raised her chin and looked down her nose at him—literally and figuratively—in clear disapproval of the eating habits.

Archer smiled.

Archer extended the basket of breadsticks first to T'Pol. She obligingly took one and placed it dead center on her plate, then looked at it as if expecting it to explain its intentions.

"T'Pol tells me she's been living at the Vulcan Compound in Sausalito," Archer attempted as he he extended the basket to Buffy and Dawn, both of whom took one.

"No kidding," Tucker blurted. "I lived a few blocks from there when I first joined Starfleet. Great parties at the Vulcan Compound."

T'Pol didn't respond, but picked up her knife and fork and began dutifully sawing at the breadstick on her plate. It crumbled almost immediately, and sprayed the tablecloth with crumbs.

"It might be a little easier," Dawn suggested, "using your fingers."

"Vulcans don't touch food with their hands."

Dawn and Buffy looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They had both seen Soval eat finger foods.

"Can't wait to see you tackle the spareribs," Tucker commented as T'Pol changed her approach to the bread-stick.

She held it down with the fork, and began to deliberately saw at it with the butter knife, but she glanced forbiddingly at Tucker.

"Don't worry," Archer said. "We know you're a vegetarian."

As if conjured, the steward entered from the galley passage with a trolley containing five plates of food. Four meat, one grilled vegetables.

"Looks delicious," Tucker commented. "Tell the chef I said thanks."

The steward nodded and simply exited.

Buffy, Dawn, Archer and Tucker began to eat enthusiastically, but T'Pol ignored her food and continued methodically sawing at the breadstick.

"You humans claim to be enlightened," she said, "yet you still consume the flesh of animals."

"You know," Dawn said with a roll of her eyes. "I don't know how many times I've had this conversation with Soval."

"Grandma taught me never to judge a species by their eating habits," Tucker mentioned.

"Enlightened may be too strong a word," Archer pushed on, "but if you'd been on Earth fifty years ago, I think you'd be impressed by what we've gotten done."

"You've yet to embrace either patience or logic," T'Pol accused. "You remain impulsive carnivores."

"Yeah?" Tucker blurted. "How about war? Disease? Hunger? Pretty much wiped 'em out in less than two generations. I wouldn't call that small potatoes."

"It remains to be seen whether humanity will revert to its baser instincts."

"We used to have cannibals on Earth." Tucker leaned closer to her and wagged his eyebrows. "Who knows how far we'll revert? Lucky for you this isn't a long mission."

"Human instinct is pretty strong," Dawn supported. "You can't expect us to change overnight."

T'Pol succeeded in snapping the breadstick with a rather tidy final cut. She slid the piece onto her fork. "With proper discipline, anything's possible."

She then ate the piece, as if that were really something worth showing off.

They ate in silence.

Tucker shifted on his seat and asked, "So, Miss TeePol, how long you been on Earth?"

"A few weeks, this occasion. I am not permanently living there."

"Yeah? Where'd you go to school?"

"At which level?"

"Well ... the latest level."

"I am Ambassador Soval's apprentice in interplanetary sociopolitical studies."

"Really? Got any military training? Like, ever piloted a ship before?"

"Trip," Archer cut off. "She doesn't have to pilot the ship. We have helmsmen for that. She'll get through the next eight days just fine with our support system."

Don't badger. Tucker got the message and fell silent again.

T'Pol finished her vegetables and immediately stood up. "Thank you for inviting me to your meeting. I shall return to my post. I have many studies. I must acquaint myself with the vessel in order to be an effective senior officer."

Archer got to his feet—something he really didn't have to do as commanding officer—and escorted her to the door. "I hope this is only the first," he said graciously. "Thank you for coming, Sub-Commander."

"Yes, Captain. Enjoy your evening."

And she was gone. Archer stared for a moment at the closed door.

"Not bad," Tucker commented, "for an impulsive carnivore such as yourself, Captain."

Archer shook his head in wonderment at all this. "But you notice how forgiving they are of anything the Klingons do, no matter how savage. Humans are unenlightened, but Klingons are diverse."

"As far as the Klingons go," Buffy started …

"Uppity hypocrites," Tucker interrupted. "What a surprise."

"Hey, don't underestimate her. She did, after all, conquer that primitive breadstick with superior discipline," Dawn joked.

Tucker laughed.

"Oh, give her some credit," Archer allowed. "At least she knows she's not familiar enough with the ship to be effective yet, and she admitted it. That's not all bad."

"You're bending," Tucker warned. "No bending allowed. Vulcans never bend for us, remember?"

"Are you ready to go to warp four point five?" Archer asked, changing the subject to something they all liked.

"Already?" Tucker sat bolt upright. "It's only been—what?—ten hours!"

Buffy gave him a sly look and a dangerous grin. "What are we waiting for?"

Tucker seemed to be stricken numb. "I don't know ... I guess I'm used to bureaucrats and sleepy admirals making the progressive decisions. Twenty memos and a month of means testing, feasibility studies, and role definition."

"We don't define roles here anymore, Trip," Dawn said. "We make a list, cut it in thirds, and give everybody a piece. Let's gather the operative minds and take the bridge."

"Delta watch'll be disappointed."

"They can stay on duty," Archer said. "We're not dismissing them. We're just horning in." He put down his suffering chicken leg. "Come on. I've had it with sitting around being socially unacceptable. Let's do some serious shaking down."