Chapter 2 - Delusions of Dinner Divine
Foreign Secretary Pelgrath and
Prime Minister Signost stood nervously inside
the banquet hall in front of the grand outer doors.
"How's my tie, Bran?"
Relin asked.
Pelgrath looked, scowled, then
adjusted it for him.
The room was elegantly decorated
in preparation for the guests. The green
curtains hung with dignity, and the columns were wound with
the same stately fabric.
Gilded portraits adorned the eggshell walls, and they were
lighted appropriately.
Honor guards stood attentively at all of the entrances, armed
with ceremonial swords
and dressed in matching green tunics.
Next to a large empty area,
two long tables ran parallel to each other, and they
were accompanied by ornately carved chairs. The seats
were covered in the same
stately green cloth that draped the tables, which, themselves,
were handsomely set
with the finest crystal and porcelain dinnerware. Candelabras
mingled throughout,
glowing in anticipation.
After a few moments, the doors
swung wide, and Deen led the Humans into
the room. He bowed to his superiors, then he turned
for the introductions.
"Sirs, this is Ensign Sato
and Captain Archer," he said graciously. "And this is
Sub-commander T'Pol."
The three Humans flattened their
flowing white robes, and they bowed politely.
"Honoured guests,"
Shilála continued. "This is Foreign Secretary Pelgrath and
Prime Minister Signost."
The two bowed stiffly, then
the Prime Minster stepped forward and offered
his hand to the ensign.
"Welcome!" he smiled
broadly.
He offered the same to the captain,
then he addressed T'Pol.
"Welcome, Sub-commander!"
he gushed. "The people of Lius are honoured!"
He bowed again, and she nodded
in response, then he motioned them towards
the dining tables.
The Humans stood in front of
their seats, with Archer in the middle and T'Pol
to his right. The three diplomats walked to the opposite
table, and the Prime Minister
took center, with the Secretary to his left. After everyone
was positioned, Archer
cleared his throat.
"We are...pleased to receive
your...hospitality," he began. "I would now...like
to honor you with the traditional...greeting."
Archer glanced at a data pad
for a moment, then he stood at attention. He
raised his arms high, then he swooped and folded them across
his chest, after which,
he spun full-circle and bowed.
"Plea forta vin aptla
nëxal pun thrux!" he declared, then he continued his speech
with a variety of pantomimes and awkward dance steps, his
robe awash with motion.
Branmal leaned behind the Prime
Minister and whispered.
"Deen, what is he saying?"
"I haven't the slightest
idea," Deen whispered back. "Just smile and nod."
They smiled and nodded, and
the Prime Minister noticed and followed suit.
After a few minutes, Archer
pounded his chest with each fist in succession,
then he moved to the table and sharply smacked it three times
with his hands, after
which, he stepped back, clapped once, presented his palms,
then deeply bowed,
before finally returning to attention.
"Golish pel grundè!"
he finished.
The Liusians applauded diplomatically.
The Undersecretary gestured
and encouraged everyone to take their seats,
then he leaned and whispered to Pelgrath. The Secretary
nodded, then he stood
and spoke.
"To honour our distinguished
guests and their venerable culture, the people of
Lius have prepared a brief historical reenactment..."
He glanced down at the data
pad, then he straightened and cleared his throat.
Throwing back his head, he cupped his mouth and yelled towards
the guard at the
far door.
"Singe lillan von presti!"
he bellowed.
The guard offered no response.
"Paul!" Deen whispered
loudly, nodding his head towards the door.
The guard saluted smartly and
opened it. Three Liusian women, dressed in
black, marched into the room and executed some precision maneuvers
with their
ceremonial rifles. When they reached the large empty
space adjacent to the two
tables, the middle woman began singing and was joined directly
by the other two,
after which, they performed an emotional interpretive dance,
harmonizing all the way.
Archer leaned towards Ensign
Sato and whispered.
"What are they singing
about, Hoshi?"
"I don't know, sir,"
she whispered back. "The universal translator can't seem
to get a lock..."
"What do you think they're
singing about?"
Hoshi adjusted her robe and
frowned.
"I have no idea,"
she said. "It sounds kind of like..."
"What?"
"Well, it sounds kind of
like...gibberish," she shrugged lightly. "The syntax,
the conjugations... There's no pattern, at least none
that makes any sense."
Archer looked at her, confused.
"I suppose we should just
smile and nod, then," he whispered.
Hoshi and Archer smiled and
nodded, and he nudged T'Pol. She looked at
the two, then she also nodded.
The demonstration ended with
some tumbling, followed by a primal scream
from the center woman. Everyone applauded, and Deen
got up and hurried towards
the entrance to the kitchen. He opened the door, and
the servers entered quickly,
placing steaming plates before each of the delegates. The
stewards then poured
some wine and scurried away, after which, Branmal stood and
lightly tapped his
glass, bringing the room to attention.
"Distinguished guests,"
he began. "It is with honour and humility that I present
to you our most cherished dish, Guilly ala Prime! The
Guilly is a bird which thrives
in the southern regions of our domain, and it is considered
a delicacy throughout
this sector of space. Highly prized for its succulence
and delicate flavor, the Guilly
is one of our main...exports. Please, enjoy!"
Pelgrath bowed, and he resumed
his seat.
Captain Archer smiled and nodded,
then he picked up his utensils and sampled
his Guilly.
"Very good," he said.
"Tastes like-"
T'Pol lightly tapped his knee,
and he glanced over.
She looked at him, then down
at her plate, then back up.
"Can't you make an exception?"
T'Pol stared.
"Just...do the best you
can..."
She sighed slightly and adjusted
her robe. She considered the foul fowl on
her plate for a moment, then she carefully began dissecting
it into small chunks,
which she surreptitiously spread to the far corners. She
then concealed the chunks
beneath something leafy.
The dinner continued with light
conversation, and the stewards reappeared
as necessary to tend to the drinks. Signost and Pelgrath
both relaxed and enjoyed
their meals, but Shilála seemed distracted. Finally,
he leaned behind the Prime Minster
and tapped Branmal on the shoulder.
"Sir," he whispered.
"I've been observing the Sub-commander. She has barely
eaten a single bite!"
"Perhaps I should ask if
she would like something else, then?"
"Yes," Deen whispered.
"That would be acceptable, but..."
"But what?"
"If a matriarch is dissatisfied
with a meal, a certain, ah, cleansing ritual must
be performed..."
"What kind of ritual?"
Covering his mouth, Shilála
leaned in closer, and Pelgrath's eyes grew wide.
"Are you certain?"
he whispered loudly.
"Keep your voice down,
sir," he warned. "And yes, I am certain... But the
thing is, the Prime Minister has to perform it."
Branmal stretched and craned
his neck.
"I could really use a smoke,"
he said to himself, then he turned back to Deen.
"And just why does the
Prime- ?"
"Because," he interrupted.
"He is the senior!"
Pelgrath nodded and sighed.
He took the pad from Shilála, then he paused
for a moment before turning and leaning towards Relin. He
held up his hand and
whispered into his ear, and the Prime Minister looked shocked,
but Branmal con-
tinued and showed him the details on the data pad. Finally,
he pointed towards
T'Pol and handed him the pad for reference.
Relin took it and slowly stood up.
He placed his napkin down gently and cleared
his throat, then he walked over and stopped opposite of T'Pol.
He bowed, deeply,
then he peeked at the pad again.
"Trei fol d'lach, uhh..."
he stammered. "Ren bill al da für doch!"
Signost leaned forward and tapped
his hands flatly three times, then, without
hesitation, he swept his arm across the table and launched
T'Pol's plate a good ten
meters. It landed with a delicate crash, and the pieces
scattered.
The Prime Minister promptly
clapped his hands together once and presented
his palms, then he bowed again, deeply, and smiled.
Archer, whose mouth had finally
closed, opened it again as he started to stand.
"Now wait just a- !"
T'Pol quickly grabbed his wrist.
"It's alright, Captain."
The Prime Minister looked worried,
and he consulted the data pad again.
"I hope I didn't do anything
out of order," he apologized.
T'Pol blinked.
"No," she said.
"That was...adequate."
Relin relaxed somewhat and resumed
his smile.
"May we offer you something
else, Sub-commander?"
T'Pol thought for a moment then
nodded cordially.
"Some tea, perhaps."
Shilála, who had been
listening closely, grabbed a steward by the arm and
hastened him away. Signost bowed again, then he went
to confer with his Secretary,
as the three Humans carefully leaned in and whispered to one
another.
"Does anyone know what
that was all about?" Archer fumed.
"I guess it was another
one of their rituals," Hoshi whispered.
"If that were true,"
T'Pol said quietly. "Why would the Prime Minister need
to refer to his data pad?"
"I don't know," Hoshi
guessed. "Maybe he just got elected?"
"Well, whatever the reason,"
Archer furrowed, adjusting his robe. "I don't like it.
I respect alien cultures, but I'm not real happy about continually
having to...participate
in them."
"Nor I," T'Pol said
quietly. "But we have to remember what we are here for,
Captain. We need the dilithium. We cannot continue
our mission for much longer
without it."
Archer frowned and nodded, then
he glanced at Hoshi, but she just looked
at him and offered a slight shrug.
After a few more minutes, the
steward returned with a tray full of stately mugs.
Shilála followed him to T'Pol's seat and spoke.
"Sub-commander, here is
a selection of our finest teas," he bowed. "I hope
that you will find one to your liking."
She briefly considered the smoldering
cups and selected the lightest of the
group.
"An excellent choice, Madam
Sub-commander!"
She thanked him and faked a
sip, and the diners finished their fowl.
Sometime later, the servers
cleared the empty plates and brought desert. T'Pol
eyed the small orange-colored dish with suspicion, then, much
to Shilála's relief,
she picked up her spoon and nibbled.
At long last, the candles
burned low, and the dinner wound down. Finally,
Captain Archer adjusted his robe again and stood.
"We want to thank you for
your...generous hospitality," he smiled. "We enjoyed
both the dinner and the...reenactment, and we hope that we
can return the favor some
time soon."
Archer bowed, then he cleared
his throat and stifled a pace.
"Now," he said, grasping
the back of his chair. "If it's...appropriate, perhaps
we can go somewhere and discuss business."
Secretary Pelgrath nodded graciously
and rose to his feet.
"By all means!" he
chimed, then he bowed and gestured.
Everyone stood, and he ushered
the guests through the rear doors and down
the hall towards his office. Along the way, Shilála
informed the Prime Minister of
the Humans' negotiating customs, and he stressed the importance
of the opening
ceremony.
"Are you absolutely certain?"
Relin gasped. "I mean really!"
"Sir," he said.
"This information comes directly from the data file which came
attached to their communiqué."
"But it seems so...absurd!"
"I agree, sir," he
said. "But it is their custom. They would be greatly offended
if the ritual was not performed."
"Does Branmal know about
it?" Signost asked.
"I don't think so..."
"Then I imagine he'll be
in for quite a shock!"
"I'll try to warn him,
sir," Deen said.
After a short time, the party
reached Pelgrath's office. Shilála slipped past the
guests and whispered into the Secretary's ear. Branmal
at first seemed quite stunned,
then he simply sighed and nodded, after which, he took a longing
look at his top
desk drawer.
There was a brief, awkward silence,
before the Prime Minister finally spoke.
"We are very much honoured
to now open discussions regarding the potential
of future trade between our two great worlds!" he boomed.
He glanced down at the data
pad, then he approached T'Pol, where he bowed
politely, before clearing his throat.
"Chin lub ti ramplo gustov!"
he smiled, then he promptly stomped her foot.
T'Pol let out a cry and hopped
gracefully on one leg; Archer, on the other hand,
blew a fuse and staggered forward. He grabbed the Prime
Minister by the seams of
his vest and nearly pulled him off the ground.
"The hell with you and
your customs!" he spat. "I don't give a damn how
bad
we need dilithium, I'm not just gonna stand around and watch
while you continually
abuse my people!"
"Our customs?" Relin
said to Archer's vein. "B-But I thought..."
Branmal and Deen both looked
at each other.
"Excuse me," Deen
interrupted. "But did you say that you needed dilithium?"
Archer slowly released his grip
on the Prime Minister and stared at Shilála;
Shilála stared back. They continued to stare,
motionless. The whole group, in fact,
stood motionless, as if they were frozen, which, in fact,
they were.
Suddenly, from the corner of
the room, a light flashed, and two beings appeared
from nowhere. They walked in and amongst the frozen
party, laughing in amusement.
"I have to hand it to you
- you really seem to be catching on nicely! I especially
enjoyed that bit about the plate, and the foot-thing? Simply
genius!"
"I learned from the best..."
"Oh, you flatter me!"
"Listen, I have another
idea... Let's go back and, instead of putting the Vulcan
in a white robe, let's try to get her to wear a...bright,
pink tutu!"
"Absolutely magnificent!
I can't stomach those stodgy Vulcans with all their
self-serving logic!"
"I thought you might like
it!"
"You devil, Q! How
absurdly delicious!"
"Thank you, Q!"
