Star Trek and Star Trek: Discovery are the registered trademarks and copyright property of CBS Corporation and CBS Television Studios. This fiction item is intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted for this item, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.


Comfort Food


Salad


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. Hopefully, that was about to translate into actually being able to eat the meal.

Carrying over to the standing desk in his ready room — something 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 the fork. At 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. The sheer number of experiments it had taken to find the correct combination of meat and seasonings was staggering. It had left 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 both 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 one of the first things he'd started doing in his attempts to blend into their society. His genuine appreciation of that one thing had helped him learn how to accept the idea of allowing alien influences into other aspects of human culture, even when he vehemently disagreed with doing so. Good food didn't mean that aliens were as evolutionary advanced as humans, though; even single-celled bacteria could differentiate between 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 domesticated and harvested by humans before the universes had diverged — 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 passed through the door and then let it slide shut. "I'm sorry to interrupt your meal."

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

"Engineering is reporting the last of the power leaks in the impulse drives have been repaired. Those repairs resolved the surges in the phaser control systems as well."

"Have they tested that to be sure?"

"No," answered Saru. "That is why I am here. They've requested permission to break orbit for a few hours and go to the asteroid belt, so that they may conduct 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?"

Lorca had long since developed the habit of pushing away the urge to wonder just how his first officer might taste; it wasn't conducive to his ruse, and besides, intellectually advanced work tended to render Kelpien muscles far too chewy and tasteless. But, as he looked from Saru's face to the plate on his desk, the line of thinking abruptly resurrected itself.

He laughed inwardly, sardonically. Who would have ever thought that he would end up working with a member of a food species as a purported equal?

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