Soup, Bread... Kanar?

Posted on Wed Jun 12th, 2024 @ 8:16pm by Ensign Eekit Drol & Ensign Mei Ratthi & Ensign Jyl-eel Tor
Edited on on Fri Aug 16th, 2024 @ 4:06pm

Mission: Mean Green Queen
Location: Junior Officer's Quarters
Timeline: Mission Day 0 at 2115

[Junior Officer's Quarters, Deck 5]
[2115]

The suite's door slid open, a tall, bedraggled figure silhouetted in the harsher hallway light that spilled in the open doorway. She limped forward, allowing the door to hiss shut behind her and throwing her into sharp relief in the suite's more subdued lighting.

Eekit looked like hell, which was especially impressive given that her craggy Cardassian features did not lend themselves to haggardness. She was still dressed in the 'discreet' garb the captain had required for all away teams, shades of black and gray, but her utilitarian clothing had obviously been torn and burned in places. Her hair, which had been pulled into two long pigtails, was now an ebony mess of tangles and snarls, like some particularly enthusiastic bird had tried to make a nest in it. A plasgel bandage still adorned the slope of her neck where it met shoulder on the right side. Despite this sorry state, her dark gaze still swept the suite's communal area; the ship had already jumped to warp, so Mei must be back on board, and it was late enough that Jyl-eel might even be home.

A door swished open and closed, and Eekit, still wired from the mission, jolted back a step and moved into a vague defensive stance. Which she dropped out of upon seeing Mei staring back her, wide-eyed and apparently ready to dart back into the bedroom for safety's sake. Eekit had to admit that sometimes, the kid had good instincts. If she'd come around the corner and surprised herself right now, she'd be ready to run, too. "Uh, good to see you?" Mei said, though she didn't sound convinced as she looked Drol up and down.

Although Cardassian skin did not lend itself to blushing, there was something about the lopsided hunch to Eekit's shoulders that communicated abashed embarrassment nonetheless. "Sorry," she said, making a conscious effort to relax her posture, "Would you believe me if I said it really is unspeakably good to see someone normal?"

"Oh, completely. There were so many unfamiliar people on the station. And I know I'm used to unfamiliar people, but that was a lot. And figuring out how to even start to try to navigate customs and social mores on the fly was . . . a lot" Mei said. Her customary cheerful smile was somewhat faded. She must have been back long enough to change out of her away mission clothes; or else she'd gone in her pajamas: floppy gray pants and an oversized black 'SOJO' t-shirt. That didn't seem likely. Her hair and face seemed freshly scrubbed, too, for all that she looked tired enough to fall asleep at any moment. "I figured I'd eat a bit and have a drink before bed, but I can go somewhere else if you want some space?"

“No!” Eekit said, a little too quickly. Clearing her throat as though to cover the mistake, she repeated herself in a more normal tone, “No, food sounds divine. I'm absolutely starving after all that. You planning to eat something appetizing, or shall I put in my own order?”

Mei gave her a blank look, looking for a moment like a hologram missing a subroutine. "Are you saying that what you eat isn't actually appetizing? Or am I just really tired? I'm probably just tired." Her smile returned, almost as bright as usual, and she tucked a curl behind her ear. "Soup sounded good. And some bread. Just plain old bread. Or ciabatta or something like that. Maybe some whisky to drink. But I can be persuaded to try something else."

Eekit clapped a hand over her mouth, her dark eyes sparking as she tried to keep her mirth in check. It didn't work. Her shoulders shook with hysterical giggles, the stress of the-- how many hours had it been?-- exploding out into a wholly unnecessary amount of mirth. "No," she gasped, "what you eat is usually awful. Too much sweet," she explained, trying for a sober explanation to take any sting out of words, and mostly succeeding in sounding unhinged. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, visibly making an effort, Eekit said, "Bread and whisky sounds fine. And I'll take extra bats."

"Well, yeah. I guess we do eat a lot of sugar. Fruit, sweets. Humans: a bunch of fruit flies out in the galaxy." Mei's laugh was more than a little unhinged. The result, perhaps, of just as many stressful hours as Eekit herself had endured. It was good to see that she wasn't the only one coming undone from it all. A good night's sleep was what they all needed. And some food. And a shower. And then more sleep. "It's bread and alcohol for us. In spades. And soup. You know, that kind of sounds like a science experiment. I don't know what we're testing, but there it is." She went to the replicator, rubbed her eyes, and placed the order.

This time, Eekit managed to keep her giggling to a minimum, but the slightly too wide smile was nearly as bad, as though she was going to lose it again at any moment. Her dark eyes sparkled. Human fruit flies. "Yes please, yes please," Eekit enthused, but her expression almost immediately clouded with confusion. She cocked her head to the side, "Why do we need shovels to eat?" Then, as though realizing she actually didn't want to know the answer, she waved her hand dismissively, "No, nevermind. You get the experiment up and running. I'm going to have a shower." Without further ado, the battered Cardassian in her walking boot and bandages limped into their room, ducking in long enough to retrieve her shower gear, and then disappeared into the sanitary unit.

In only a handful of minutes, Eekit was back, looking as refreshed as a sonic shower could get her. At least her clothes were in one piece, almost identical to Mei's in her gray sweatpants and black t-shirt with the Sojourner's registration number printed across the back, a loose sweater thrown over top. Well, all except for the walking boot supporting and regenerating the bones in her foot and ankle. She was peeling off the protective film she'd placed over her dermagel bandage, a pile of clothing in her arms. This last, she dumped into the recycler with a flourish, muttering, "Good riddance."

The door to the greater body of the ship swished open again and the plump and young-matronly shape of Jyl-eel Tor swayed inside. She held aloft, almost like an offering, a square pot with a plant of some kind within. She was humming an old Valt nursery rhyme that had been entrenched in her mind for the better part of the day. Her green eyes were focused on the plant- a sort of sagey greenish-blue color with plump and bulbous succulent-like leaves. The tumble of stems ended in small vibrant bluish-purple crocus-like flowers. This was a Hebitian High-Plains Orchid from Cardassia. Its scent was reminiscent of something between Lavender and Jasmine. "Good evening," Jyl-eel chirped at her roommates.

"Evening," Eekit greeted absently, ducking back into her room to discard her shower things.

"Good evening!" Mei's voice was bright as ever, but her eyes were a little glazed over, like she'd been going for entirely too long and was still on her feet due either to sheer stubbornness or force of habit. "Eekit and I are probably going to drink too much alcohol, and eat too much bread. And soup. Would you like to join us? Before we fall asleep, anyway? That's probably not too far into the future. We've had a long day. How was yours?"

Jyl-eel slowed at the offer. She didn't drink. Most forms of alcohol made her spots tingle. But she did like bread. She liked bread very very much. And soup was nice. "Oh," she said with a thoughtful tilt to her chin. "It was quiet in the Arboretum." It was always quiet in the Arboretum. "We transferred the Botany Lab's specimens so Engineering to can do some... upgrades?" The Valt frowned a twisted knot of her lips. "Then Crewman Palo's pet..." Her eyes narrowed, "I think they call them ferrets? Got lose and scent marked the Hupyrian cactus."

Jyl-eel set the Hebitian Orchid down and then picked up a spray bottle to spritz it. "Soup and bread sounds pleasant."

Eekit reemerged, and made for the couch. "How did the cactus feel about that?" she asked with a cheeky grin, her fingers twined in her long black hair, braiding it with practiced ease. Then, before either she could flop to the couch or the Valt could answer, she jerked to a stop, seemingly hooked by something invisible in her face. She sniffed once, then twice, then slowly rotated to where Jyl-eel was tending to her newest baby. Though they usually didn't remain in the suite long, the neverending variety of botanicals cycling through their space was always interesting to Eekit, a being for whom plants were a mystery. Today though, it was more than mere idle curiosity that had caught her interest. She breathed in deeply once again, and then peered more closely at the orchid which remained as unknown to her as most of the plants Jyl-eel brought through. The smell though... "What is that?" she asked curiously.

Jyl-eel twisted with her matron-in-training, bemused look. Her nose bridge wrinkled- not a native trait but one she had picked up subconsciously from a crewmate she'd made friendship with. Her twist watched as the Cardassian dropped on the couch. "Ah. Not happy. Hupyrian cactus don't handle ammonia well. They drop into some kind of," her head shook slightly, "Torpor. I'm researching why." She said even as Drol rose and began scenting the air. Her smile was more Cheshire Cat, "Hebitian Orchid, juvenile. But I thought the smell would be nice until we can start harvesting its firstleaves for Orchid Tea." Or, if they were very ambitious, it was a flavoring agent in fine Kanar.

“What’s Orchid Tea like?” With more care and attention that she’d probably want to admit to, Mei lowered a tray laden with bowls of soup, a loaf of bread, and three glasses– two with whisky and one with water– onto the table and passed everything around before setting the tray aside. “It feels like something I’ve had before, but I can’t think of where it might have been or even if I actually had it at all. I’ll probably remember tomorrow, like halfway through my shift or something. My brain is pretty much done for right now. The station was certainly . . . interesting. But anyway. I’d rather talk about Orchid Tea. Or ferrets. Or pretty much anything else right now.”

"Its lovely," Jyl-eel emphasized. "I'd be happy to make you some." She responded to Mei. "Floral, a little spicy and sweet?"

Eekit scowled, a much more fearsome expression than the Valt's wrinkled nose. "Can't say as I blame the cactus," she muttered, as Mei began laying out the meal. She changed her trajectory and limped toward the table, sliding into a seat and hooking a spare chair closer. Onto this, she hefted her booted foot, scowling anew with annoyance. Her expression cleared as Jyl-eel explained however, surprise smoothing her forbidding features.

"Mei, would you mind if we turned up the..." Jyl-eel began.

"Hebitian? Like... from the high plains?" Eekit asked with surprise, tempered by suspicion, interrupting. Whyever would they be cultivating a high plains orchid here, on the Sojourner? Unless... her mind went swiftly past the tea. "Nevermind tea, where's your Kanar brewing?" she demanded, only half-joking. Mei meanwhile, earned a searching look as Eekit hooked one of the whisky glasses to her, lifting the vessel and eyeing the liquid inside. "I guess maybe this will have to do. Here's to not thinking about that fucking station for at least ten hours. Or twelve. However long I can get away with." She lifted the glass and without waiting for the other two to join the toast, tossed back a healthy gulp of the liquid, then tried not to wheeze, her eyes watering.

Jyl-eel gushed a chuckle. "I haven't brewed Kanar yet. But I thought it would be a nice idea for the anniversary of Nanpart Malor's founding of the Valonnan School of Art?" She digressed at the Cardassian's psuedo-reptilian swiftness. "But I happen to have a bottle of Kanar from Pemjom City? It's not the best vintage. I don't think its thickened enough yet. But," she grimaced with a chuckle and a head shake, "Federation replicators cannot do Kanar correctly."

"That is an understatement," Eekit said darkly, and then narrowed her eyes at Jyl-eel. "Why have you been holding out on me? 'Not the best vintage,' is light-years ahead of 'none at all.'"

"Are we even supposed to have Kanar? I mean, it's not like Romulan Ale or stuff like that. So maybe it's not a problem? If it is, I won't tell. It's not my business. I don't even like the stuff." Mei took a bite of bread and chewed for a moment before startling. She swallowed quickly and looked at Jyl-eel. "Wait. You wanted to turn something up? The temperature? Yeah, that's fine. If humidity, not much? Or something else? I'm open to whatever since I'll probably just sleep through it."

Jyl-eel considered that. To her knowledge, Kanar didn't have the same prohibitions as Romulan Ale or Kali-fal. Kanar and Meridor were sometimes-restricted alcohols because of their fermentation processes not meeting Federation standards. Romulan Ale was as dangerous as Bloodwine: it was highly intoxicating. She finally broke off her pensive expression, brightening. "I don't think so," and she fluidly passed into the next subject, "Computer, raise the ambient temperature of zone three by four degrees." She stated in an effort to make the Cardassian more comfortable in her area.

Eekit shot her a grateful glance, resisting the urge to fidget with her sweater. She grabbed a bowl of soup instead and started spooning it into her mouth. At least humans mostly made soup right.

"Have you ever had good Kanar, Mei?" Jyl-eel asked with a glance past to Eekit. "I had a friend try it when I first arrived here. He described it as like trying to drink something called oyster sauce." Her delighted and bemused smile blossomed with her headshake, "Whatever that might mean."

"Oyster sauce? I've never had that. And I've only had Kanar once and that was . . . " Mei trailed off, scrunching her nose in thought. "I don't know where that was, honestly. Some station somewhere. My sister talked me into it. She talked me into trying Malört, too. That was also a bad idea. If you ever meet my sister and she takes you to a bar, do not trust her tastes. She does her best to get you to drink something you won't like, and she thinks it's the best joke ever. She has a terrible sense of humor." She broke off a piece of bread and popped into her mouth. "That said. Eekit, if you find some good Kanar somewhere, I will, as a favor to you, give it another try."

Eekit's face had the slightly constipated look of someone trying to pull a memory out of deep storage. "Oysters? Aren't they shellfish? How do they make sauce?" she wondered aloud as she dunked a bit of bread into her soup and then sucked the liquid out of it. "Look, if we find good Kanar somewhere," she shot a meaningful glance at Jyl-eel, "I see no reason to waste it on folk who can't appreciate it." She stuck her nose in the air, sniffing theatrically. The pose held for only a moment before she dissolved into a grin again, "but don't let me stop you. Jyl--" Eekit paused, then lifted a brow at the Valt. "Wait. Why do you have Kanar?" She'd never seen the woman drink intoxicants, and she couldn't imagine Cardassian liquor was the thing to push her over the edge.

Jyl-eel smiled almost wolfishly. "I like to cook with it. I learned it from my Uncle on Valt Minor," she admitted. "It adds some incredible flavors and depth. Have you ever had spicy R'ongovian mushrooms and kale? With Tarkalean tea? It adds," her eyebrows rose to emphasize, "Incredible dimensions." She smiled and scooped into her soup with some bread, "And that's not the adrenosol talking."

"Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge. You'd better be prepared to make that for us one of these days. I'm sure somehow, we'll be able to find some passable Kanar. Unless you already have some." Mei's eyes were alight, and it had nothing to do with the whisky she was sipping. "If that's the case, I'm sure we can find a kitchen for you. What do you think, Eekit? Kanar for drinking or cooking?"

It was clear that Jyl-eel's answer had thrown Eekit's tired thought processes off the rails. A bit of bread had paused halfway to her mouth and she was staring at the Valt, blinking blankly. And then, all at once, she seemed to screech back into gear, an almost conspiratorial grin stretching her lips. "Well she certainly can't describe it like that and not make it for us," Eekit agreed with Mei's assertion. Popping the bread into her mouth, she hardly even seemed to chew before swallowing it. "Kanar is for drinking," she said firmly, "But, I will admit I'm curious." Taking a sip of her whisky, she shifted her booted foot slightly into a more comfortable position on the free chair, picked up another bit of bread, and gestured toward Jyl-eel with it. "Frankly, I'm feeling like a failed Cardassian when it's the Valt among us who has the Kanar and she doesn't even drink it-- she cooks with it."

Jyl'eel folded herself comfortably into the chair she'd chosen. " I am feeling a little.. "Her nose wrinkled a little like a friend of hers, "Maligned here," she said. "If Kanar is only for drinking then I guess the chefs I know are wrong? And its not worth trying? After all, I'm just a Valt. What would a race of non-aligned traders know?" She smiled and decided to get up and make herself a drink. "Hot chocolate, dash of cinnamon, dash of sugar." Jyl-eel returned to her seat with her drink. She smelled it. It reminded her of lovely memories of going someplace on Earth called Guanjuato. What a colorful and enchanting place with such fascinating food. She'd learned how to make something called a... taco nopales?... there?

Human cuisine was fascinating. Even if they ate too much flesh.

"I think that lovely lady in the rear lounge. The one with the red hair? She has a kitchen. But her cooking seems very different than pan-quadrant fusion cooking." She sipped her drink, "Still I could ask?"

Mei perked up at that. "Debbie? I'm sure we could sweet talk her into loaning us her kitchen for an hour or so, though we'd probably have to do it at and odd hour. I don't know how often you go there, but her place is pretty popular. At least, it's always busy when I've been there. Which gives me an idea for something else, and that's neither here nor there." She yawned and sank into the chair's embrace, slowly swirling what was left of her whisky before downing it in one go. "I could ask her if you could borrow her kitchen for a while, if you wanted me to. You'd probably have to make some for her, too, though."

"Debbie," that was the name. Jyl-eel nodded at the realization. Noah has said that name several times. Jyl-eel smiled. "Yes please Mei. If you are willing" She agreed. "It's as easy to cook for four as three." She added agreeably. If Debbie was amiable to trying fusion cuisine, then the botanist was all for it.

Jyl-eel's assertions about her ignorance tickled a grin from Eekit, although it looked like it held a few too many teeth. If she hadn't immediately stuffed her face with another bit of soup-drenched bread, it might have been predatory. "I'm probably going to be on the mid shift for the rest of my life, so off hours suit me," she said around her bite, her tone two parts glum and one part resigned. "I'll bring the beverages, since apparently we're not drinking the Kanar you've been hiding from me," she teased again, reaching out with her good foot to prod Jyl-eel in her hip. "Tarkalean tea, you said?"

"Mmhmm. Tarkalean tea. Fond of it?" Jyl-eel noted. Her lips made a line while she savored her own warm drink. "My brother is on a Valt trader and the Tarkaleans are favored trade allies with we Valt." She smiled at that, tickled privately that the Tarkaleans preferred them over the more imperious and arrogant Kriosians. "Exobotany is an as-needed department. My schedule is flexible." She assured.

"Never heard of it," Eekit retorted, "but I'll try anything twice." As if to punctuate this declaration, she tossed off the last of her whisky.

"Oh," the Valt's eyebrows rose in some surprise. She watched the Cardassian neck her drink and then turned to look at Mei.

"I've had Tarkalean tea. I like it. Would drink it again," Mei said, then finished off her bread. "I'll see if Debbie will be okay with us using her kitchen tomorrow. Maybe the day after. So come up with a menu that I can give her so she doesn't just dismiss us out of hand. I think it'll be easier to get her to say 'yes' if we have an actual plan." She yawned. "I think that's all the planning I can do tonight. My next plan is going to bed. I think you could play your music as loud as you wanted to for once," she glanced at Eekit and grinned, "and it wouldn't bother me."

Jyl-eel smiled. "And I have noise-cancelers," she added. Jyl-eel had absorbed and nodded agreement to Mei's request. And then she'd fallen silent to consider what she'd need from Debbie and what would appeal. "I'll come up with something," she assured Mei.

Eekit mustered an answering grin; loud music was one of her few communal-living vices. "Now, now, don't you start making promises you can't keep," she said with an attempt at severity. It was mostly ruined by her own yawn, echoing Mei's. She scowled, betrayed by her body's weakness. "I won't be far behind you," she promised in turn, "Turns out biting chunks out Vaadwaur is tiring."

To that the quiet Valt raised her eyebrow with a tickled smile hovering over the lip of her drink. "I'll try not to keep the two of you up," Jyl-eel cooed amused. She was tired but not yet ready for sleep. She still needed to meditate and tend a few plants. And perhaps craft a message for her sister's Jo'hatal ceremony. She'd been putting that off, the subject a heavy one. She finally asked, shuffling her feet under her and curling into her seat. "What soup is this?" She asked.

A sputtered laugh exploded from Eekit and she clapped a hand over her mouth in an unsuccessful effort to keep it from escaping. Either the whisky was stronger than she was expecting, or she was more tired than she thought, to have laughter just spilling out of her, but she couldn't help it. The idea of quiet Jyl-eel keeping them up really was laughable.

"It's-- uh, tomato and lentil something or other. No meat. I thought you might want some. But my brain is pretty fried right now. I could go ask the replicator if you wanted. And then I should go to bed so I don't fall asleep in the chair." Yawning, Mei climbed to her feet and squinted at the little screen by the replicator. "Harira. That's what it was. Earth. North African. I thought it was pretty good. Would eat again. But not tonight. I'm done. Good night, have fun with whatever else you decide to do. I'll talk to Debbie about our cook-out next time I see her."

Eekit sketched a sloppy salute to Mei and said, "It was good. Sleep well. What is it you humans say? Sugary dreams?"

"Sweet dreams," Mei said with a vague wave and a sleepy smile. "Good night. Don't stay up too late."

As Mei made her weary way to their room, Eekit reached up and fiddled with the bandage on her neck, perhaps anxious to be rid of it, perhaps simply unsure what to do with her hands. She shot a glance at Jyl-eel and then, coward that she was, away again. Her gaze fixed on her booted foot, and she gnawed on her lip as she considered the best approach. Direct, she finally decided, an approach that would have surprised no one. "Jyl-eel?" she asked, her voice tentative despite her resolve, "do you-- would it--" Both polite beginnings cut off before she could finish. In the end, Eekit simply said, "Can I take the orchid into our room? Just for the night," she rushed to add, knowing how protective the Valt was of her plants. A veritable army of explanations pressed at the back of her teeth, wanting out, but Eekit clamped her jaw on them-- Jyl-eel didn't need to know the ins and outs of her weakness and insecurity tonight. She'd probably guess at a chunk of them anyway.

"Goodnight, ladies," Jyl-eel said with a gentle and matronly head bob. She looked at the orchid, "And of course. Just please make sure you generate a thermal field around it. Its too cold in here for it to be out of the heat all night." She smiled. Eekit needn't explain. Jyl-eel understood in her own way. Bits of home were nice. And plants were a welcome thing. The Valt sipped at her drink again, content to stay up for awhile longer.

Eekit's smile was unwontedly shy, her tough-as-nails facade breaking just along enough to show Jyl-eel her gratitude. The smile looked odd on her, not only for the vulnerability, but for how it didn't really fit on her ridged features. "Thanks," she murmured, adding a rueful, quiet, "It's not the only one..." There were many advantages to joining Starfleet, but working with humanoids who preferred the temperature much cooler was not one of them. Popping one last piece of soup-soaked bread into her mouth, Eekit stood and cleared away the dishes Jyl-eel wasn't using, dropping them with a clatter into the recycler. Then, thump-limping in her boot past the orchid's table, she scooped it up and cradled it carefully against her body as she followed Mei slowly into their room.

In short order, their door slid shut behind her, and Jyl-eel was left in solitude, not even the accustomed strains of Eekit's music drifting out to disturb her.

A Post By:

Ensign Mei Ratthi

Ensign Jyl-eel Tor

Ensign Eekit Drol