The Flyer

Posted on Sat Aug 27th, 2016 @ 3:27pm by
Edited on on Sat Aug 27th, 2016 @ 3:29pm

Mission: Mission 2 - Contagion
Location: Deck 3 - Mess Hall
Timeline: MD -09 12:30
1551 words - 3.1 OF Standard Post Measure

It was luncxh time and Joss was hungry. It wasn't from overwork, not many of those aboard had developed the habit of seeing a doctor on a regular basis. He spent the morning perusing a new book he had received, written by Doctor Loenard McCoy.

Talon scurried to the mess, went into the kitchen, and upon seeing the Tellarite chef, decided to entertain her propensity for arguing. "Nann, how comes you never serve pork?" he joked. "I come here day after day, and never any pork."

"You'll never get pork from me," Nann shouted back. "If you want pork, go on station."

"All I'm saying," Joss continued, "is it would be nice once in a while to have bacon."

"Why all of the sudden does everyone want pork," Nann shouted lifting her arms.

Joss chuckled realizing that her arms probably contained a few good hams. "Just teasing, Nann! Thanks for the grub."

Talon exited the kitchen and went back out to the seating area. He noticed a man he hadn't met before. He appeared older from the gray hair. Taking the opportunity to meet a new crew mate, Joss walked to the table and asked, "Care if I join you?"

Rowan was nursing the worst hangover he had ever had in his life. The din of the mess was one thing but the clang of the pots and pans was quite another. His blood shot eyes didn't appear welcoming as the man addressed him. He had a buzzing that rivaled a misaligned warp core and it only was growing worse. That was what he got for drinking kanar and blood wine in the same sitting. He should have just called it a day with the kana.

"The seat is open."

He pushed around the food on his plate. He usually like how Tellarites cooked. It was always a plus when you liked your cook. The one job he had done with that Tellarite captain had been amusing but he moved on when an Andorian Captain offered him more money and other perks. Captains who were women and liked talent could be hard to refuse.

"Damn this headache..."

He mumbled it mainly to himself as he took a bit of whatever the viscous substance was and found it to be appetizing. It hadn't looked appetizing but life was full of small surprises.

Talon slapped his tray in the spot across from the man. The sound it made was a bit loud, but it had already left his hand when the man said something about a headache. Truly not the way to make first impressions!

"Sorry," Joss quickly interjected, "I didn't mean to create the noise."

Talon sat in the seat and picked at the food before him. He lifted a bite to his nose, sniffed it, then held it out to get a better look. "They said it is called ratatouille," he said, not familiar with Terran foods. "Does that mean it has eat meat in it?"

Rowan found conversation to be tedious, unless it was pillow talk, hungover conversation was next to impossible. He did manage to clear his throat before answering though.

"It's a stew. It can have meat but this one doesn't. Dated a French woman for a while. She tired of me I suppose."

That was more personal information than he intended to share in one sitting but it happened at odd times. He just put some more of the stew in his mouth. It was good. It wasn't as good as having it at a cafe in France but still pretty good.

Talon took a bite. "Mmmmm. Tasty," he admitted. "Although I'll have to tell Chef Nann it will be better with bacon." Talon chuckled at his own comment.

Rowan always found conversation tedious and when hungover to be next to impossible. The fact of the matter is he really didn't like anyone, including himself, all that much. Conversing with them was just another way of divulging information that one wished to keep to themselves. When he mentioned bacon that was something that anyone could agree on.

"Bacon isn't and would be a bad addition to this or most anything else."

The man wasn't human so it brought to mind the next question.

"Where did you first have bacon at?"

Talon chuckled. "I spent six years on Terra earning my medical degree. Once Bajor became liberated, the Federation saw potential in me and sent me to school. I think they thought I'd be so grateful that I'd serve them in StarFleet." Talon shook his head and laughed. "I took me degree and ran to serve the people they refused to. Bacon is tasty, but I just use it to tease our good Chef Nann back there. She's fun to get wound up."

Joss considered the man's headache. "You know, I can give you something for your pain."

“Dried Pork! to be exact!” Winston Havelock smiled from the next table, a plate of strange jerky and round brown disks before him. He had not ordered it from the cook, oh not at all. The pilot always kept a stash of it in his jacket for hunger, safe-keeping, or just otherwise boredom. Not that the old man had been bored at all, sitting now on this old bird of paradise as he called it.

Spending every waking moment combing the ship, and many times simply rubbing it, quickly turning and running around the corner; Winston spent most of this days since coming on board the Mary Rose getting reacquainted with a distant-far-lost-love taken from him by time and circumstance. Long ago, in a past so distant not even he was sure it was his, he had served in Star Fleet on a Constitution class. Unable or unwilling to remember the captain, surely Winston Q. Havelock the XIX had to have a stellar record, for how else could feel so decorated.

Unfortunately Winston had not yet met his captain. He had only run with an applicant through the shuttle’s motions for the solicited post. Since he had no contact with the crew, he decided on spending his time in the Constitution’s rather opulent mess hall. There he would know the crew, or was that a Klingon vessel?

“Tis not bacon, but old salts on ancient ships would live on this for months and months,” he offered a plate to the two talking beside him. “Unless you been in a freighter in deep space I’d stay away from that round hard tack. That is true sailor food! Oh, almost forget, I am Winston Q. Havelock, the XIX, your reserve pilot?"

"Talon Joss, the ship's Doctor," Joss offered to the pilot. "And thanks for the pork, but don't let Nann catch you with it," he joked. "She'll accuse you of eating a relative."

Winston looked over at the chef behind the barrier and shrugged. More than his fair share of strange looks from that one. "I usually keep a very high orbit around this mess hall I must say, she does not consider it a lounge exactly does she?"

Talon snickered. "She'll keep you on your toes. Likes to argue, that one. But I must say, she's a fine cook."

Looking at the two, Joss couldn't help but think their crew was actually coming together. Their band had grown, and was gain new skills with each addition.

"So tell me," he probed, "how'd you two manage to become part of our merry team?"

“I,” Winston said placing his hand on his chest, flicking a medal. “As you can imagine it is not an easy task for someone of my ‘season’ to get any sort of commission. Despite what my mind and fingers do, people only see a tired old man. Not unlike this very ship, those modern crafts flying about in their new trans-warp, quantum, lava drives, see this blessed bird of paradise and underestimate. Well it seems we have found each other. An older ship needs older hands to maintain it as good as new. And I have a strange affinity for old helms. So when I saw the ad at ‘Jeffries’ Juncture’, where retired Star Fleet congregate, I jumped at it. And allow me to say your shuttles are pristine, glorious, you can actually feel the inner hull against various forces in spaces. Why with your auxiliary craft I barely need sensors, the vibrations tell me what’s out there,” Winston took a moment to catch his breath, to relish in the sudden adrenaline of the memory.

There was no doubt to Talon that the man would bring out the best of the Rosie. He spoke of the ship as Joss did Tabs. He never understood how someone could become so attached to a starship. Of course, this was the first one upon which he served. Still, he couldn't see himself as loving the ship. The only her Joss would refer to in a loving manner was Tabitha.

"Well it's good to know we have someone that really understands the ship." Could ship's be understood?

OFF:

Talon Joss
Field Medic
SS Mary Rose

Winston Havelock
Pilot
SS Mary Rose

Rowan Giles
Pilot
SS Mary Rose

Nann Groshlugh
Chef
SS Mary Rose