Fuel for Thought

Posted on Tue Dec 24th, 2024 @ 12:14am by Lieutenant Commander Savin & Rynlan Nemari
Edited on on Sat Dec 28th, 2024 @ 12:34am

Mission: Character Development
Location: USS Athena: Messhall
Timeline: Pandora's Box: MD2
2808 words - 5.6 OF Standard Post Measure

“Messhall to Commander Savin.” Ryn’s voice broke through the communicator, laced with an oddly calm urgency. “We seem to have a crisis of psychological need down here, and I could use your expertise. Are you available?” There was no hint of chaos in the background, just the usual hum of clinking cutlery and murmured conversation. Whatever this ‘crisis’ was, it seemed suspiciously contained.

Unaware of the urgency or even the lack of sound of chaos, Savin read the incoming calls on his PADD, and reread it a second and even third time. "I am available," he answered after activating his comm badge. "I will be down shortly."

Wondering what the urgency was all about, the counselor made his way to the mess. "You had an emergency?" He queried, eyes traveling around the room and noting the distinct lack of chaos.

Ryn greeted him with a wry smile, the expression partially obscured by his moustache. “Yes, yes! One moment, Commander and I’ll show you,” he said, holding up a finger for emphasis. With an almost theatrical flourish, he wiped his hands on the towel tucked into his apron and disappeared behind the counter, his steps quick and purposeful.

"Show me?" The counselor queried, not quite sure what was going on as he followed the Orion towards the counter. "What is your emergency, because I do not sense any kind of distress and we seem to be the only ones here." Insofar he could determine, the mess seemed deserted.

Ryn reappeared a polished cloche in hand, and caught the tail end of the observation. “Precisely, Commander. This is the crisis.” He gestured toward a nearby table with dramatic flair. “My replicator’s logs reveal that you’ve holed yourself away, avoiding my culinary creations. It’s a travesty!” He placed the cloche on the table with a flourish. “Commander, you are the emergency. I’m concerned your absence from my menu might be robbing you of an experience that could soothe even the most logical of minds.”

"Absence from your menu?" The counselor frowned, not quite sure he had understood correctly. "I fail to see how I can be part of your menu. I am not for consumption?" The blank look he cast the man was testament to his genuine misunderstanding. He briefly glanced towards the cloche, yet another thing he seemed unfamiliar with. "What is this?"

Ryn’s lips parted as he processed the misunderstanding, a darker shade of green colouring his cheeks before he let out a soft laugh. “No, no, Commander! I meant you’ve missed out on my menu, not that I’m looking to... well, sample you for consumption.” Shaking his head, he lifted the polished cloche with a flourish, revealing a meticulously arranged plate of decorative Tevmel paired with the freshest Halak he had cultivated in his hydroponics bay. Each piece was crafted with care, a testament to his pride and skill. “This,” he declared, his voice tinged with playful reverence, “is what you’ve been depriving yourself of. A travesty and a true crisis.”

"Ah.." The Romulan too seemed to flush a darker shade of green as he realised the misunderstanding. "I must apologize, I had no intention of embarrassing you. Occasionally, due to my handicap, I am bound to misunderstand some things that are said." He glanced down at the plate in front of him, studying it. "This is a work of art, I would be reluctant to eat something so beautifully garnished," he confessed. "It does smell delicious however." And it reminded his body of a lack of a decent meal in recent hours as his stomach seemed to respond to the external stimuli his other senses perceived.

“No harm done,” Ryn said with a warm chuckle, pulling out a chair and gesturing for the counsellor to sit. “Please, Commander, these are for you alone. I promise, no judgmental staring while you eat.” A faint smile played across his lips as the flush in his cheeks began to fade. “But I have noticed,” he continued, his tone more thoughtful now, “that you might not always take the time to enjoy a meal for its flavour and experience, something beyond just ‘nutritionally balanced and convenient.’ Consider this my way of remedying that oversight.”

"I more often than not do not have time to engage in an elaborate meal," Savin confessed. "As a medical officer, I am never truly off-duty. The time I do have I usually engage in physical training, or mental exercises." As he sat, he reached for the spoon and carefully picked up a fragment of the offered food. "I can appreciate a decent meal, however," he added as he tasted the offered dish." He fell silent as he tasted the food, looking back and forth between it, and the chef who made it. "This is..." He paused, taking another small bite. "Did you speak to my mother? This is what she used to make when I was a child... I have not tasted this since I attended the academy. Not like this."

The Orion hesitated, ready to step away and give the counsellor some privacy. After all, there was something inherently awkward about being the only one eating while under watchful eyes. But as Savin spoke, Ryn paused, pursing his lips as he absorbed the unexpected reaction. Was this the first time he’d seen someone so composed express such a personal connection to his cooking? “I assure you, Commander, using personnel files for anything outside Starfleet protocols would get me into far more trouble than I’d care to imagine,” he said with a faint, self-deprecating smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve simply got a passion for food across all cultures and corners of space. Back on Earth, my wife and I ran a fusion restaurant not far from the Academy. We raised most of the produce ourselves.” He gestured toward the plate, a spark of pride in his eyes. “This recipe is one I learned during that time.”

"I do not believe my mother ever left Vulcan," Savin recalled, "and your passion shows. It made me recall a childhood memory. Does all your food do that? Make people remember things?"

Ryn gestured to the chair opposite, silently seeking permission to join the commander before easing into the seat. “I like to think anything we create has the potential to leave an impact,” he said thoughtfully. “Back at the restaurant, it was always rewarding to see people come together, making new memories or reflecting on old ones while sharing a meal.” He paused, his smile softening. “Taking requests was always a bit of a gamble, though. There’s a certain pressure. The chance it might not measure up to someone’s expectations. But when it does…” He let the sentiment linger, his pride evident but unspoken.

Savin nodded as he took another bite, the sensations taking him back to when he was still a young boy. He couldn't tell whether this was a Romulan or a Vulcan dish because at the time he didn't know any better than that he was Vulcan. But his mother did put her soul into her cooking, he remembered that much. "You gambled right this time," Savin offered quietly, his voice having a rough edge to it, "the replicator does not do it justice as it always misses that one key ingredient."

“Mhmm, Halak is notoriously difficult. Not just to raise, but to replicate properly,” Ryn replied, his satisfaction evident as he watched Savin savour the meal. “I’m glad it resonates with you. There’s something special about connecting through food.” He stroked his beard thoughtfully, his mind already scanning culinary possibilities. “I’d love to introduce you to other dishes you might enjoy. Andorian, Bolian... perhaps even Romulan cuisine?” He glanced at the commander with a slight tilt of his head. “Though I do recall reading about your dairy allergy. I’ll be sure to work around that, it just makes the challenge more interesting.”

"I would like to explore the culinary side of my Romulan heritage, carefully so perhaps. I was raised on Vulcan cuisine and insofar I know, Romulans are not vegetarians. I am, however and I would become quite ill if I were to consume meat now."

The Orion’s brows rose with genuine interest. “That makes sense. Any drastic change in diet, especially after years of vegetarianism, would be hard on the body. Animal proteins are processed differently, and the adjustment can be uncomfortable for anyone,” he said, his tone thoughtful. There was more than culinary expertise in his words; his curiosity extended to the science behind food and its effects. “But do not worry, Commander. I’m confident I can craft alternatives that capture the essence of Romulan cuisine without compromising your dietary needs, or your comfort.”

"That would be preferable," Savin commented appreciatively, "you obviously have a passion for your profession and clearly you are very skilled." He nodded towards the nearly finished plate in front of him. "How long have you been a chef?"

“Technically, I’ve been a professional chef for the past seven years, ever since I retired from Starfleet,” Ryn replied with a modest smile. “But even during my service, I had a bit of a reputation for growing my own ingredients. Anything to bring a little extra flavour to the mess hall. It’s always been a passion of mine.”

"Why did you retire from Starfleet?" It felt strange to serve on Starfleet vessels only to retire from service and return to them as a chef. "What did you do before you retired? Going on the common assumption giving the man's stature, he could only assume security.

“I felt I had more to give by spending my older years with my wife, making memories and creating a place where others could do the same,” Ryn replied, his voice softening as his gaze briefly dropped to his hands. The faintest pinch of his lips betrayed the weight of the memory. “Unfortunately, life had other plans. She passed not long after our dream finally took root.” He looked up again, offering a faint, bittersweet smile. “I was lost, and I found myself drawn back to what I knew. A position in Command didn’t feel right anymore, but I still wanted to contribute, just in a different way.” His chuckle was quiet but genuine. “And let me tell you, running a kitchen on a starship is a whole different kettle of fish.”

Savin nodded in understanding. "I am sorry to learn of your loss," he offered gently, then shuddered visibly at the mention of fish. The one time he had tried fish, he ended up being rushed to a medical facility. "I would imagine so," he answered, echoing the offered smile, "and I am relieved that you are still finding joy in life." He left it at that, not wanting to turn an impromptu dinner into a counseling session. "Other than a passion for food, what do you like to do in your free time?"

The Orion inclined his head in agreement, a quiet strength in his gaze. “Life doesn’t stop,” he said softly. “She’s always with me. My guide, my inspiration.” His expression brightened slightly as he continued, “I keep myself busy with my plants; I’m a xenobotanist by speciality. Music, too, pairs well with dining and food, doesn’t it?” He chuckled, running a hand through the silver waves of his hair. “It seems I’ve embraced the role of a host in my old age, though I suppose there are worse ways to spend one’s time. And you? What is it you fill your time with outside of duty?"

"Mostly training to keep myself in shape," Savin admitted, "I also enjoy playing baseball, something i seem to have in common with Doctor Solis. I tend to use the holodeck for most weapons training as I consider the gym too dangerous. I often also use my off duty time the keep my medical licence valid."

Ryn glanced down at himself, a trace of amusement in his expression as he took in his own stockier frame. “In shape, huh?” he remarked lightly. “I suppose I’ve traded agility for a few too many good meals and perhaps a bottle of springwine here and there.” His tone softened, carrying a touch of humour. “These days, I avoid combat unless absolutely necessary. A leisurely swim or a round of golf, if we’re talking Terran sports, is more my speed.”

The mention of Doctor Solis brought a genuine smile to his face. “Ah, so you and Doctor Solis have more in common than I thought. She’s a regular in the mess, always on the hunt for breakfast or a snack. Apparently, hunger doesn’t discriminate.” He nodded thoughtfully at the mention of balancing commitments. “Keeping up with all of that sounds like a challenge. But I suppose there’s something satisfying about it, isn’t there? A sense of purpose.”

"Indeed," Savin agreed, "to be able to help someone who needs it, is very satisfying. It is a challenge to keep up, but it is worth it. I leave the specialized medical care to those trained for it. I am capable of performing basic surgery when in an emergency situation, but I prefer not to. I am a counselor first, but I will assist sickbay as required."

There was a resonance in the Romulan’s words, a quiet reminder of the importance of being needed. For Ryn, it was no longer about critical analysis or strategy but offering comfort, nourishment, and a subtle nudge toward self-care. “Those are invaluable skills, Commander,” he said earnestly. “On a ship like this, where emergencies are never far away, having someone with your expertise, whether in counselling or the occasional medical crisis, can make all the difference. When all hands report in, it’s those moments of readiness that truly define us.”

"I agree. I assume you would too, if your skills are needed outside your galley?" Savin arched a single eyebrow at him in question.

“It really wouldn’t take that much persuasion.” Ryn admitted with an embarrassed smile, “Perhaps that’s why I’m back on a starship again? Trying to get the best of both worlds. With that being said, the whispers of a Messhall are much more varied than the facts of a briefing room.”

"I will believe you." Savin chuckled. "There is this famous saying among doctors... people will tell their bartender things they will not confide to their doctor. And honestly, can you blame them?" He shrugged. "I am here to help people who want help, but ultimately they talk to who they are comfortable with. And if that is not me, who am I to argue, if it helps them?"

The Orion nodded thoughtfully, stroking his jaw. “You’re absolutely right. I never anticipated the openness I’ve encountered here, such a range of topics, some quite surprising.” A faint chuckle escaped him. “I’m not sure how you manage it all. During my earlier days, I don’t recall the mess hall being quite so emotionally charged. But then again, perhaps I spent too many hours buried in hydroponics to notice.”

"Planning helps," Savin confessed, "but so far I have never turned anyone away, even if timing was inconvenient for me. I am never truly off-duty, I have found, so I am taking the time I need for myself, when it is available." He nodded down to his now empty plate. "One of the reason I rarely frequent the mess, I simply did not have the time or mind to do so. Time for myself also means time away from people. While I am capable of blocking out others, I rarely do so because that actually is unsettling to me. So instead I choose to spend some time alone. I can still send others but it is not so... Loud "

“Well then, how about we strike a balance?” Ryn suggested, his brows lifting with a spark of enthusiasm. “To protect your peace while broadening your culinary palette, I propose this. Once a week, I’ll prepare a dish especially for you. You’re welcome to join me here, or if you’d prefer, I can arrange for a private sampling elsewhere. No crowds, no noise, just good food and a moment of quiet.”

Considering the offer, the counselor nodded. "That seems fair," he agreed. "Unfortunately, I do need to head back to my office. Thank you for an excellent meal."

The Orion rose to his feet with a gracious bow of his head. “It has been my pleasure, Commander. I look forward to seeing you next week.”