Kitchen Archaeology

[Hayley's Quarters, Deck 6, USS Normandie]
[22 July, 2386 CE]
[1130 Hours]

Hayley awoke in much the same position that she had ended the previous night. The sleeping medication had done its job of allowing her to get some rest, leaving her feeling refreshed. She rolled over onto her back and stretched, yawning deeply. After a minute or two, she leaned over toward the wall and asked, "Computer, what time is it?"

SARAH's voice came over the wallcomm. "The time is 1134 Hours."

Hayley boggled. Hot dog, I done slept half the day away, she thought, incredulously. "Thanks, Sarah." The computer chimed pleasantly in response.

---

[Main Engineering, Deck 17, USS Normandie]
[1425 Hours]

Sepeth had just finished calibrating a faulty ionic pulse regulator when Hayley arrived, dressed in off-duty clothes. He handed his PADD to a Bolian ensign and stepped over toward Hayley to intercept her.

"Ms. Griffith, I believe that I made it clear that you were not to return to work until Lt. Ashshy grants you clearance to do so."

The redhead shook her head at her boss and replied, "I ain't here as a CPO, Sepeth, I came to ask you a personal favor."

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow as he contemplated what she could be requesting. "What is it that you need, Hayley?"

Hesistantly, she answered, "Well, um, I was wonderin' if it'd be okay to use the hardware replicator on Deck 18 for a special project."

Sepeth lowered his eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest. "It was right of you to ask for permission, Hayley; personal use of the matter replicator is subject to Starfleet regulations." He saw the trepidation in her eyes and continued, "Your request is vague. Please describe this 'special project'."

Hayley broke eye contact briefly, worried that he'd turn her down. "Ya 'member that lounge you told me about on Deck 5? Well I went up there last night hopin' to relax after everythin' that happened." She paused and gauged his reaction, which was bordering on dubious. "While I was up there, I met the lady chef, an' she asked me if I could build her somethin' to help her cook for the crew."

Sepeth maintained his flat affect and responded, "The crew's dietary needs are sufficiently met by the food replicators. What exactly does she want you to build?"

Digging into her pocket, Hayley produced the picture that Atani had given her and handed it to the Chief Engineer. He scrutinized it, narrowing his eyes to make out the fine details. "This... this is an ancient Earth oven, is it not?"

Hayley nodded. "Yeah. It's a stove though, it's got a cooktop an' an oven in one machine."

Sepeth looked again at the picture and then passed it back to Hayley. "Use of the hardware replicator requires raw materials that are also used to replicate parts for critical ship repairs. This project is a fool's errand, Hayley. This device became obsolete several centuries ago."

The human woman waved her hands to indicate that she had more to say. "Oh, I agree, this device ain't even feasible nowadays. I've got several ideas for how to use present-day tech along with this ancient design to make a functional, energy-efficient stove. Here, take a look," she said, handing him a PADD with some of her preliminary design notes.

Standing in silence as he reviewed the information, his brow furrowed just slightly. "Very innovative, Hayley, but even so, this device is unneccesary."

Hayley clasped her hands and appealed to her old friend's predisposition toward considering all of the facts before passing judgment. "I hear what you're sayin', Sepeth, but couldja at least do me the favor of stoppin' by the lounge to talk to the hostess up there? She might could explain her reasons for wantin' me to build this thing better than I can."

The Vulcan mulled over her suggestion. He thought that this project would be an inappropriate waste of vital resources, but he had known Hayley long enough to know that she wouldn't even make this sort of personal request unless she thought she could pull it off. He handed the PADD back to her.

"Very well. I will visit the lounge when I am done speaking with the ship's Counselor." He glanced at a wall display to check the time. "If you'll excuse me, it is nearly time for my mandated appointment with the Lieutenant. I'll inform you of my decision after discussing the situation with the chef." He nodded slightly to her in farewell and strode out of the engineering section.

Hayley smiled brightly and headed back to her quarters to continue planning. She knew that he'd grant her at least this courtesy. Now if Atani could just convince him that it was a good idea, she could get down to business.

((to be continued))

[Atani Nyth's Private Quarters, USS Normandie]
[July 22, 2386, 0500 Hours]

Atani peeled her clothes off as if they were a second skin and chucked them into a corner before stepping into the sonic shower. She leaned against the side of the shower and felt the sonic waves hit her skin. Letting the day wash away, she'd tried to recount the day's events but everything seemed blurred together: kissing Corbet, the stove, the dabo wheel, Hayley's sweet face, Adam's suit, Luna's touch, the party, cake... She felt as if she had taken a drink of polywater and hallucinogenic lichen from Vulcan, an illegal, controlled mixture acquired from the Romulans by her previous employer. The blonde's breathing increased and she slammed the button that turned off the shower.

She stepped out of the shower, wrapped a light peach gown around herself and lay down on her bed, as a thin veneer of sweat formed on her body. She drifted off to sleep to a sea of fitful dreams and confused emotions.

---

The computer chirped. "The time is 1500," SARAH's soft voice stated overhead.

"You lie," Atani replied, pulling the iridescent blue-green sheets around her shoulders and flopping onto her stomach, face down on a cobalt blue pillow. The other four pillows went spilling off the bed.

"I am incapable of lying. The time is now 1501. You initially asked to be awoken at 1400," the computer stated, but did not argue with the grumpy bartender.

Atani heaved a sigh and rubbed the remains of sleep from the corners of her eyes. "Thank you, SARAH. Please play Bold as Love," she asked, her manners returning from the depths of dreams. Atani touched her toes in the bed and sang along.

"Queen jealousy, envy waits behind him. Her fiery green gown sneers at the grassy ground. Blue are the life giving waters taken for granted. They quietly understand." She contorted her body in different stretches as the guitar notes bent and twisted around her.

She finally climbed out of bed on her hands, stretching her aching arms from the previous night's party. Walking deftly around her quarters on her hands, she thought about the night from a different perspective as Jimi sang on.

"And all of these emotions of mine keep holding me, From giving my life to a rainbow like you. But I'm a... yeah, I'm bold as love."

Atani flipped over onto her feet. Her dress was now in a serious state of disarray, but her mind was finally clear. Drinks needed to be poured and she was their girl. Duty was a new emotion for Atani, and she relished the feeling. She brushed out her curly blond locks, put on a tight white top and a white split skirt, and took off for the lounge at a quick clip.

[USS Normandie, Starlight Lounge]
[July 22, 2386 1545]

The cherrywood doors of the Starlight Lounge whooshed open at Atani's approach. Entering the lounge, the hostess saw small groups of cadets clustered together, looking more worried than normal and speaking in hushed tones. A single audible word slipped from one of the cadet's lips as she passed: OSCE.

The blonde approached the bar and dismissed SARAH, taking her place without ceremony. Looking out at the forlorn faces, she went to the replicator and began synthesizing cookies: chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin. They came out of the replicator steaming, smelling of warm brown sugar and hot melted chocolate. A warm smile came over the shapely bartender and she started making her way through the crowd, distributing mirth and cookies.

[Starlight Lounge, Deck 5, USS Normandie]
[22 July 2386 CE]
[1600 Hours]

His hands clasped behind his back, Sepeth wandered through the big doors into the Starlight Lounge. Even though Alpha Shift had just ended, there were already a gaggle of cadets and even a few junior officers in the room. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow as he took stock of the situation. He had heard about this place, but had no idea that it was so densely populated.

Slowly and deliberately, he stepped over to the bar and took a seat.

Atani returned to her place behind the bar with a tray full of crumbs, not expecting to find the Vulcan engineer there. She met him with a bemused smile. “Hello, I’m Atani Nyth, hostess of the Starlight Lounge. May I get you a drink? A cup of Plomeek tea perchance?”

Sepeth bowed his head slightly to the lovely hostess. “Ah, excellent. I had been meaning to speak to the matron of this recreation station. I am Sepeth of Vulcan, and I am indeed fond of Plomeek, but our second officer has suggested that I try an Andorian beverage known as ...Fridd.”

A small giggle escaped from her full red lips and she repeated, “Recreation station? Mr. Sepeth, this is just a bar, but Fridd I can handle.” With a swish of white, she was off to the replicator. “One Fridd, please,” she asked from the station. Taking the rounded cup by the black handle, the curvy bartender set the chunk of bright blue ice in front of the the bald Vulcan. “You drink it as it melts, but I am sure you’d figure that out.” She gave him another brilliant smile.

The engineer looked down at the cup of frozen tea. With a fingernail he tapped out a ‘tink tink tink’ on its icy surface. He raised an eyebrow, then shrugged his shoulders just slightly and took up the cup. As he sipped at it, the interface between the Vulcan’s lips and the slowly-melting block of tea made an impolite slurping sound. Lowering the cup, Sepeth sat in awkward silence for a moment before setting it back down on the bar.

“Ms. Nyth, I was asked to come speak to you today regarding a fabrication project that one of my subordinates brought to my attention. Perhaps you are familiar with CPO Griffith?”

“For the sake of brevity, it is Atani, and yes, Hayley is a lovely girl. She is brilliant as well, but you came here to talk about my stove,” she said, leaning forward on the bar on one elbow so they were away from prying ears.

Sepeth’s eyes darted down to the bartender’s cleavage for just a microsecond, before flitting back up to meet her gaze. “Ah, yes. The stove.” He said this last word as if it belonged in a museum somewhere, a quaint reminder of days gone by. “Hayley has informed me that you desire an ancient piece of cooking machinery. She needs my approval before she can begin the project, so I am here to ascertain whether this project will be a reasonable use of replicator materials. Your job is to convince me that building a stove is a good idea.” He folded his arms, as if he had already made up his mind.

The bartender folded her arms under her ample breasts and rested her elbows on the bar in thought. “Do you see all those people out there? I don’t know what the chain of command is doing to them, but the morale on this ship needs a little improvement. Most of these people are overworked and--unlike you--need more sleep than they’ve gotten. They come here for a drink and a laugh. When was the last time you’ve had fresh gaspar?”

The Chief Engineer nodded. “Before arriving here, I spoke at some length with the ship’s Counselor, and he and I agree that crew morale is in need of a boost.” He looked over his shoulder at some of the cadets, who were mumbling dejectedly into their glasses about upcoming exams. “The last time I had fresh gaspar...” The look on Sepeth’s face remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed a subtle sadness. “It has been several years.” He shook off the thought and asked, “Why would you want such an antiquated device? Are not the food replicators sufficient to see to the dietary needs of the crew?”

“Did you know that we have at least two crew members with an interest in botany--one with a degree in botany with an emphasis in hydroponics? I could prepare fresh gaspar on that ancient device. Or for Hayley, wouldn’t her mood improve with a little home cooking? I can replicate some of the materials I cook, but nothing really replaces the love and effort that someone puts into cooking, even when it isn’t perfect. These people need something to improve their spirits, and unless you are going to pick up more shifts or I start taking off my clothes....I need a stove,” Atani said, her voice full of passion and fervor, but she prayed a little logic had strayed in there.

Sepeth raised his cup of slightly-melted Fridd to his lips and took a quieter sip as he considered the statistical improvements in crew morale that would accompany Atani’s latter suggestion. “Apologies, Atani, but I fail to see how love makes any difference in the nutritional value or taste of a meal.”

“It doesn’t. But these cadets and crew need to know that someone cares about them, that is what it shows. Unless you don’t care about them, but something tells me that you do. Also, if we’re in a pinch for parts, you can always toss it back in the mixer. It won’t hurt my feelings. So, how about we give it a try and then you say ‘no’ later?” She smiled impishly at the Vulcan.

For a moment, the seductive bartender--who was probably not even trying to be seductive at the moment--gave Sepeth pause as he analyzed the phrase “how about we give it a try.” He took another hurried sip of Fridd and replied, “That is an excellent point. If we find that our stock of raw materials for the hardware replicator is dwindling too quickly, we can easily recycle the stove for more critical ship repairs and the like.” He rubbed his thumbs together in contemplation.

After the space of a few seconds had passed, the Lieutenant looked back at Atani and said, “You present a compelling argument in favor of your request. However, one thing remains to be seen.” His expression seemed grave, despite his flat affect. “Will you be able to put this device to good use? If you don’t mind, an exhibition of your culinary skills would help me make my final determination.”

“The only cooking I’ve done is on the holodeck; hence my desire for the real thing, sir. But how about I make you the first meal off the stove once it is finished, and I figure out how it works. Our dear Hayley has had to make some modifications to it, so it will be different from my simulations. Tell me, Sepeth, what is your favorite thing to eat?” she asked, drawing his name out as if tasting it herself.

The Vulcan paused in silence briefly. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “Strange as it may sound, I find a human dish known as tiramisu particularly satisfying. I ordered it regularly at the commissary at Starfleet Academy. However, I am disinclined to agree to this project without having first evaluated your ability to prepare a meal that is not replicated to order.”

“You don’t sleep, right? How about this: after my shift is over at three, I’ll make you tiramisu. We’ll eat like the French, dessert first. I can make that without a stove. What would you like for a main course? And would you like a wine pairing with our meal? That I can do as well, no replicator required,” she said, giving him a tiny, almost-imperceptible wink.

Sepeth thought about his early morning meal, and considered options for an appropriate main course. “It occurs to me that the ideal pairing of main course and dessert would require staying within the same culinary tradition. Along with the tiramisu, I would prefer a dish of Penne all’Arrabbiata. Wine will be unnecessary; remember that your objective is to impress upon me your cooking skills and abilities. Since the main course will be largely pre-replicated, its presentation will count for a great deal. This will not be a social visit, but an extension of my official duty to Ms. Griffith.”

“Now, if I am going to go through all this trouble after I get done working, I expect you to be social, Mr. Sepeth. Nothing in your Vulcan code prevents you from being polite and kind to a lady.” She concluded her remark by reaching out at plucking a piece of lint from his uniform and flicking it away.

The engineer tugged at the hem of his shirt and replied, “But of course, Ms. Atani. I had not meant to intimate that I would be less than sociable. I merely meant to dispel any indications that our early-morning meeting tomorrow will be at all unprofessional. It is a means to an end, and while I will maintain my bearing as a gentleman, I am simply investigating whether or not it makes logical, reasonable sense to spend valuable resources on this device.”

Atani reached out and placed one delicate hand on his arm. “You might want to quit while you’re ahead. It’s not a date; you didn’t ask. But maybe if you do later, I’ll say yes or no. Depends on the kind of gentleman you are.” The Vulcan coughed suddenly and took a quick drink of his Fridd. The lovely bartender continued, “Now, it will take me some time after my shift, so let’s meet at about 0530? Where would you like to get together? I can make something in the holodeck or we can meet in engineering? I wouldn’t want to take you away from work too long,” she said. Her smile was kind and her blue-grey eyes sparkled with mirth.

Sepeth stared into his tea, in which chunks of ice were now bobbing and floating. “Perhaps we should meet again here, in the lounge. No food or drink is permitted within the engineering section.” He took a drink, and awkwardly crunched a block of frozen tea between his teeth. He looked over his shoulder again at the cadets, a couple of whom had started staring in their direction. He straightened his uniform again and stood.

“Tomorrow morning, then,” he said. “I look forward to this experiment. I should hope that you do your best work, since your stove hangs in the balance.” He bowed slightly to the hostess.

“I look forward to seeing you again. I do hope to perform admirably, but we are not a possessive people, Mr. Sepeth. As much as I want it, it is only a thing. There are other things in the universe. I do hope you’ll visit the lounge again. Having the senior staff in here gives everyone a little hope.” She smiled and returned the bow with a low, graceful curtsy.

The Vulcan nodded. “I shall make every attempt to do so, if only to do my part in improving crew morale. I wish you success in your task tonight. Until the morning,” he said, bowing again, and he turned to leave.

There is hope yet, she thought. She returned to the replicator to refill many empty glasses that had appeared while she was speaking with the mysterious Vulcan.

((A JP by Lt. "Are those boobs? I've read about them in books" Sepeth and Atani "Tell me more of this pon farr" Nyth))

[Starlight Lounge, USS Normandie]
[23 July 2386 CE]
[0530 Hours]

In the early morning hours before his official duties for the day were to begin, Lieutenant Sepeth returned to the Starlight Lounge. He entered the room, dressed in a pale yellow meditation robe that only served to make his olive skin look even greener than usual. Clearly, fashion sense was lost on this Vulcan.

On the bar, a steaming plate of Penne all’Arrabbiata waited on a red and white checkered cloth with a white napkin and golden fork for its eagerly anticipated guest. The smell of crushed red peppers intermingled with garlic and fresh sweet basil. The whole leaf basil decorated the penne with perfectly cubed tomatoes. The pasta was on a square white plate that was seated diagonally on a red rounded plate garnished with curls of Caprino romano and fresh parsley. Next to the place settings was a water bath with a pan floating in it. Atani hurried back and forth setting up glasses and uncorking a bottle of Chianti. “Oh, I’m so glad you could make it, Sepeth.” She gave the Vulcan her most winning smile and pulled a thin stick from her hair and shook out her golden locks. “Please have a seat. I don’t want it to get cold.” She poured them both a glass of wine and then sat across the bar from him slightly out of breath, her chest heaving slightly.

“Of course,” said Sepeth, taking a seat on a bar stool. He glanced at the glass of wine and commented, “I believe that I mentioned yesterday that wine would be unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary is never unappreciated. Besides, Sepeth, you only live once. You do only live once, right?” she asked with a small giggle. The blond bartender raised her own glass and beckoned the Vulcan to do the same. “Unless of course, you’d care for something else, but this is an excellent wine pairing to the tomato sauce.”

Sepeth eyed his glass dubiously, but relented, raising it in a similar fashion. “I believe that you mean for a toast to be shared.” He lifted his glass a bit higher and said, “Live long and prosper,”

“Live long, love well, and prosper,” said Atani, changing the traditional tune just slightly and clinking her glass next to his. “To new friends and good food. Buon appetito.” She smiled in the low light of the lounge. Rarely was the lounge ever this empty, and she hoped it would loosen up the Vulcan a quarter of a nanometer.

The engineer peered through the beverage in the glass. “This morning’s experiment is a test of your culinary abilities, Atani, so I suppose that a well-chosen wine pairing may serve to enhance the flavour of the meal.” He took a sip and replaced his glass on the bar. He then leaned forward to take in the aroma of the steaming pasta; it had been his favourite in his days back at Starfleet Academy, although the best part was always the tiramisu that he would order for dessert. Just as with humans, the Vulcan sense of smell was intimately integrated with their neural memory centers, so a rush of images of his younger days washed over his consciousness.

Tucking the memories aside, Sepeth picked up his fork and commenced to eating. The bartender delicately placed the napkin on her lap, gingerly took up her golden fork, and started eating, never taking her eyes off the olive-skinned engineer. As he ate, his expression seemed ambivalent, swaying from satisfaction to blank neutrality. He took each bite slowly and deliberately, and chewed thoughtfully before swallowing. He wasn’t exactly a trained food critic, but such was the task at hand, and he intended to fulfill it thoroughly.

Crossing her legs behind the bar, her split skirt fell open, revealing her long legs. Smiling at his slight changes in expression, the chef took a drink of her wine before speaking. “I chose a Caprino romano, a stronger goat cheese, instead of a traditional Parmesan reggiano because I thought it would capture the flavor of the tomatoes more. I added a bit more of the hot peppers since you come from a spicy planet,” she said with a small laugh.

Sepeth raised an eyebrow. “I have never heard Vulcan referred to as ‘spicy’,” he mused, swirling his glass and taking a whiff of the Chianti’s bouquet, “although I daresay that it is not an entirely inaccurate description.” He took another sip and returned to the main course. “I also believe,” he added, “that this is quite possibly the best Penne I have had since my time at the Academy. Well done, chef.”

A blush rose from her neck up to her apple cheeks and a slight sparkle danced in her blue-grey eyes; Atani mumbled something quietly, looking down at the table. She blinked back up at him with an impish grin. “Thank you, Sepeth. I’m glad you liked it. Now I’ll have something to serve you when you come in more frequently as you said you would--for crew morale and all.”

The engineer finished the small portion of pasta and dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “To date, I have been spending most of my off-duty hours in my quarters, but I must say that your culinary skills provide excellent impetus to return periodically,” he said, sipping his wine.

Smiling, she took their plates and forks and returned them to the replicator. Standing on her tippy-toes, the blond chef pulled the tiramisu out of the water bath and took a chilled knife from beneath the apparatus. Removing her own wine glass, she held out an expectant hand for Sepeth’s, which he passed to her. The barefoot hostess took these to the replicator and returned with a bottle of Asti Spumante and two champagne flutes. The tiramisu had a garnish of carved chocolate flowers, sprinkled with cocoa, and whole coffee beans covered in chocolate. Atani cut a large piece for Sepeth and a small piece for herself, as she was hoping for bed sometime in the next few hours. Placing the plate in front of the yellow-clad engineer, she popped open the champagne bottle with the knife. The bottle opened with a sharp pop and foam escaped out of the top; she poured each of them a glass. She held them up in a second toast. “Dva-tor,” she said in her best attempt at the Vulcan language.

Sepeth took the glass from the blond hostess. At her toast, which meant “believe,” he raised an eyebrow again. “I was not aware that you spoke any Vulcan, miss. If your tiramisu is as well-prepared as your Arrabbiata, then I am certain to become a dvasu in your cooking ability.” He cut a section off of the corner of the dessert and tasted it. For a moment, his eyes closed in the closest Vulcan approximation of gastronomic ecstasy he would allow himself.

“So, Atani,” he said, taking a drink of the sparkling white wine and setting the flute back down. “This meal is certainly full of flavour, but before I agree to allow your project to go forward, it would be most helpful if you would describe the preparation process that was required after the individual ingredients were replicated.”

The blond chef took a drink and replaced her flute on the bar. “I hate to say that you are easy, Sepeth, but you are rather easy. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I layered lady fingers in the bottom of the pan and then used a coffee flavored liqueur to soak them, but not too much. I mixed marscapone cheese with heavy whipping cream, along with egg yolks, sugar, and a vanilla bean that I scraped the insides out of. I brought it to a boil in a hot water bath from the replicator, then added masala wine and whisked until it was smooth. Then I just layered it and cooled it in an ice bath. Simple and easy. Then for the garnish, I carved some chocolate into flowers, and melted down the shavings to coat the coffee beans. Finally, I sprinkled the top with cocoa, and Voila! I’m glad you liked it. The pasta was replicated, but I changed it twice to suit what I though would be your tastes. I hope you liked the wine pairings. That is my full-time job,” she said with a large smile. Leaning over on one elbow, she picked up a fork and took a bite of the dessert.

The lieutenant sat quietly and listened to the steps that Atani had taken in preparation of the meal. He disagreed with her statement that he was “easy”; her account of the process and the detail that had gone into the presentation were hallmarks of ingenuity and resourcefulness, beyond simple cooking talent. Nodding to her, he answered, “I rarely partake in alcoholic beverages, as they can cloud rational judgment, but in the portions you’ve provided, the wines served to accentuate the taste of the dishes.”

Sepeth finished his dessert and took up his napkin. “I have made my decision, Atani,” he said, wiping a stray crumb from the corner of his mouth. She put her fork down and leaned further across the bar, her heart pounding in anticipation of his next words.

Replacing his napkin in his lap, he pronounced, “I hereby declare that you are a highly-skilled and creative chef, and your skills will most likely contribute to a marked elevation in crew morale levels. I believe that this positive effect on the overall well-being of the ship will outweigh the dangers of using precious replicator resources for a personal device such as the one that you have requested. Your request is approved,” said the Vulcan engineer, with authority and finality.

Atani let out a squeal of joy and threw her arms around Sepeth’s neck in a hug. “Oh, thank you so much! I won’t let you down!” She suddenly realized what she had done and sat back down in on her side of the bar. “I... uh...am... sorry. You probably hated, didn’t like, didn’t want, shouldn’t have...I should be quiet.” Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and she looked away from the stoic Vulcan. Why do I always have to do that? she thought. “I just want to thank you for allowing me to proceed with the project. Nam-tor sa'akh nash-veh t'du.” Atani bowed her head so that her long hair covered her flushed cheeks.

Sepeth was nearly unable to keep his jaw from dropping. This woman is absolutely full of surprises, he thought. He coughed into his fist and swallowed to clear his throat. The decidedly non-Vulcan hug had transported him to his pleasant Academy days. However, when she stated in his native tongue that she was in his debt, he felt a certain degree of cognitive dissonance, as it reminded him of the suppression of emotions that his family had embraced years before he had returned to their traditional ways.

With a bow of his head, Sepeth replied, “Nam-tor etek ka-tala sa'akh, ko-opilsu.”

The chef brushed away her hair, tucking it behind her ears, and looked up into Sepeth’s chestnut-colored eyes with a hint of remorse, “I don’t know what you said. I only learned those phrases from SARAH before you arrived. I’ve not met many Vulcans. I hope you don’t think poorly of me.”

Sepeth stared back into her eyes, and replied, “Ah, I see. I was merely intimating that the two of us are equivalent in our indebtedness, chef.” He paused, and then added, “And no, your attempts at speaking Vulcan show that you are willing to take steps to put your patrons at ease, trying to make them as comfortable as possible. Although,” he continued, “I do find your lack of regard for personal space to be highly irregular.”

“I’m Argelian. I find your lack of personal contact to be eccentric. My people thrive off of personal touch, sensation, feeling. While you suppress it, we surrender to it; bask in the afterglow of the experience of all things pleasurable--food, drink, sex. You could have at least smiled; it feels wonderful to smile, to laugh, to...love,” she hesitated on saying the last word.

The Vulcan’s expression remained impassive as he replied. “I am grateful for the lesson on your culture; I consider myself a student of cultural rites and rituals of species throughout the galaxy. As I’m sure that you can understand, our people prefer to let our words indicate our inclinations, and for my part, I am inclined to consider you to be highly competent at your profession.”

Atani thought of the Veltan sex idol in her room and the ritual she learned when she acquired it. She grinned wantonly at the aloof engineer. She continued without much thinking. “We can be equivalent in our indebtedness if you do me one favor, Sepeth. Can you do that for me?” she asked, leaning on one elbow and supporting her chin in one hand while daintily drinking from her champagne flute.

Sepeth raised an eyebrow as he contemplated the possible favors that this woman could ask of him. “To what favor are you referring?” he asked.

“I worked very hard on this tiramisu. Would you please take some of it with you, so the effort doesn’t go to waste in the replicator?” she asked pleasantly.

If the engineer was relieved, he didn’t show it. “Certainly, Atani. I will share it with the staff.” Turning on the stool and standing up, he said, “You have my gratitude for the meal, chef. I shall most definitely be returning to call upon your talents in the future.”

She covered the tiramisu with a thin metal lid and handed the pan to the stolid engineer. She smiled, extending a hand to the Vulcan. “The pleasure was all mine, I’m sure. I hope to see you again soon, Sepeth.”

Sepeth set the pan on the bar and shook her hand. Uncharacteristically informally, Sepeth replied, “You can count on it.” Bowing to her, he took the remaining tiramisu and strode out of the lounge.

((A joint post by Lt. Sepeth and Atani Nyth. Here are some pictures of the pasta and tiramisu that Atani prepared:))

Atani cleared their dishes from the bar, still too excited to sleep. He liked her cooking. Don't be so self-satisfied, she thought, those ideas lead to competition, which leads to jealousy, which is to be avoided. The chef permitted herself a small grin of self-satisfaction at the memory of the Vulcan's near smile.

While replaying the conversation in her head, an idea began to nag at the back of her mind like an itch she couldn't scratch. Her cerebral nucleus that was distinctly Trill perseverated on one thing that he said. I do find your lack of regard for personal space to be highly irregular... She continued to scrub at an imaginary spot on the bar as the breakfast crowd came trickling through the cherrywood doors. A full Argelian wouldn't think twice about this, she thought, with a shake of her head. Perhaps she would have to take this up with Sepeth later.

[Hayley's Quarters, Deck 6, USS Normandie]
[23 July, 2386 CE]
[0900 Hours]

Hayley had spent most of the previous day toying with the Vulcan logic puzzle that Eiri had given her as she waited to hear back from Sepeth about the stove project. This morning she had awoken early enough to get ready for her shift before realizing that she hadn't yet been cleared for duty. Still in her nightclothes--a dark grey sleep shirt and black cotton shorts--she had sat back down on her bed and returned to rearranging the puzzle. As the little wooden pieces slid into and out of place, her thoughts fell into focus and ideas began to blossom. Maybe there's more to this lil' box than meets the eye, she thought. Some kinda Vulcan voodoo or somethin'.

She flopped over onto her side and reached for the PADD that held the design schematics for the ancient stove. Last night she had begun planning the specific changes to the materials that would allow for present-day functionality. To provide unrestricted visibility into the stove's interior, she had sketched out a miniature force field generator matrix instead of the heat-tempered glass window in the oven door--similar in theory to the ones used in lieu of physical windows in the conference lounge and the captain's ready room. The flimsy housing that had originally been composed of simple Earthly metals would be replaced with alternating layers of polynillimite oxide and duranium. These would serve to strengthen the machine, prevent radiative heat loss, and vastly reduce its weight.

Hayley had taken Sepeth's warning against using critical materials to heart; her initial calculations showed that around a hundred duranium layers of just 8.5 nanometers in thickness would be sufficient to provide the necessary integrity. Nillimite was far less useful than duranium insofar as ship repairs were concerned, although each layer would need to be almost a hundred times thicker to accommodate the large unit cells of its crystal lattice.

The ginger engineer rolled onto her back and held the PADD up above her head, tipping it left and right slightly to try and get a better mental picture of the three-dimensional stove. Unsatisfied, she called out, "Sarah? Y'got a minute?"

The blonde AI materialized beside Hayley's bed. "Good afternoon, Hayley," she said. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Afternoon?!" Hayley dropped the PADD on the bed and tipped her head back so she could check the bedside clock. From her inverted vantage point, it seemed to read GI:ZI, which she translated as 12:19. She'd been so wrapped up in the project that she hadn't realized the hours had passed so quickly. "Well heck, lucky fer me I ain't gotta work today. If'n y'got some free time, I could use a hand here."

"I always have time, Hayley. How may I be of assistance?" she repeated.

Hayley rolled back onto her side and then patted the bedspread next to her. "Have a seat an' take a look at this," she said, handing her the PADD.

SARAH looked at the PADD and then to Hayley. She cocked her head almost imperceptibly, as though she were accessing a great deal of information stored in the computer's memory. A few moments later she sat down on the bed at Hayley's side. "These are design schematics for a device known as a gas-powered stove. Origin: Earth, 19th century England. This was a widely popular American model sold via the mid-20th century Sears and Roebuck catalog."

Hayley blinked at SARAH. "Okay, um, that's interesting," she lied. "What I can't figger out is how to deal with the heatin' element. Petroleum derivatives ain't exactly an option, an' neither is any kinda open flame. The original specs show spiral-shaped iron resistors that get red-hot when current runs through 'em... ain't no wonder why they called 'em 'burners'," she said with a weak chuckle. Hayley rolled over and threw her arms up over her head, sighing as they smacked down onto her pillowcase. "I can rig up a quick-an'-dirty heat-sink six ways to Sunday, but actually generatin' heat?" She shook her head, rocking it back and forth on the covers. "Got any bright ideas?"

SARAH accessed her memory banks again before responding. "Perhaps you could use an iron-noranium polyalloy; given the correct proportions and density, this material can exhibit a specific heat capacity of 0.4 joules per gram Kelvin--very energy efficient."

Hayley chewed at the inside of her cheek and thought for a bit. "Mmm," she murmured. "I reckon that sounds about right..." She reached forward and took hold of her bare knee, pulling herself into a sitting position with one pale leg still extended. "So how do we heat it?"

The slim avatar hologram took just a few moments to arrive at an answer. "Phasers."

Hayley raised her eyebrows incredulously. "Phasers?"

SARAH nodded. "Noranium alloys are known to vaporize when struck by phasers at setting 7 or higher, but at lower levels they remain solid. For purposes of safety and longevity of the device, far lower levels would be advisable--say, the equivalent of setting 0.18. A multi-phaser element modified to such a level could generate safe, predictable temperature changes within the alloy."

Hayley's shirt stretched across her chest as she leaned back on the heels of her hands and grinned. "An' then you can just set the dial to whatever temperature y'want, an' the firin' frequency of the tiny phaser emitters would adjust to get ya there." She placed her hand on top of SARAH's and beamed. "You're just slicker'n a prairie dog doin' the backstroke in a tub o' butter, ain'tcha?"

SARAH's libraries had no record of such a verbal construction, and for just a second Hayley could have sworn that she heard a nearly-imperceptible error buzz. "Is that a rhetorical question, Hayley?"

The engineer tipped her head back and laughed out loud. She threw her arm around SARAH's shoulder and squeezed her sideways. The hologram allowed herself to be passively pulled close, the crown of her head nestling into Hayley's cheek. "Yeah. Yeah, it was. Y'know, we're gonna have to spend more time together, you an' me. You've got a lot to teach me--I been beatin' my head against that problem since Atani showed me the schematics."

Atani. Thoughts of the bewitching bartender swirled in Hayley's head, and she closed her eyes as she hugged one of what was probably several hundred onboard copies of her new engineering guru. She felt a great deal of pride and relief that she might actually be able to make this darn thing work, thanks mostly to SARAH. There was something more to what she was feeling than job satisfaction, but it was subtle, and she couldn't put her finger on it. Hayley gently released SARAH from the embrace, and the hologram returned to her original seated position. There was a smile on her face--probably one programmed to be accessed and displayed when in friendly company.

"An' besides," Hayley added, "I gotta teach you how to understand me a little better. When I get excited I can be a mite colorful with my phrasin'." She draped her hand across SARAH's shoulder and grinned.

SARAH was still smiling, but it still seemed a little too stiff to be a genuine emotional response. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Hayley?" she asked.

Subconsciously, Hayley grasped at a reason to keep SARAH around. "Um..." she thought out loud. "Oh hey," she said, reaching for the Vulcan meditation puzzle. "Is there just one way for this thing to be solved correctly?" She handed it to the avatar hologram.

SARAH looked at the scattered wooden pieces on the nightstand, and then turned the half-completed puzzle over in her hands for five seconds or so. "That depends on the parameters of a 'correct solution'," she replied. "There is only one way to arrange all of the pieces into a perfect cube, but if one allows for alternate geometries, the permutations rise into the hundreds."

"Alternate geometries?" Hayley pursed her lips and stared at the complicated pieces on the nightstand that were waiting to be reassembled. "If I didn' know any better, I'd say you were tellin' me I need to start thinkin' outside the box."

SARAH smiled artificially again. With her own voice, but in a stunning recreation of Hayley's vocal patterns, she said, "Cain't hurt. Lookin' at a problem from jus' one angle don't do it justice. Work on it fer a spell--it'll be fun." She shrugged stiffly. "Y'might could even learn a thing er two."

Rendered speechless, Hayley gaped at SARAH, not even realizing that she had handed the puzzle box back over. The next thing she knew, the hologram had vanished, and the hand that had been resting on her shoulder went into free-fall, landing with a thump on the bed.

Hayley was lost in thought for over a minute before she closed her mouth and reoriented herself to the room. She looked down at the PADD and the logic puzzle in her hands, unsure which she should spend time with first. All that she knew was that she missed SARAH already.