Chapter Text
Part Two
One of the most fiercely debated subjects across the more refined residents of the 24th century was the identity of the single most delicious meal in the entire Alpha Quadrant.
Throughout the decades, a myriad of differing foods, cuisine and preparation techniques had been put forward for the unofficial title. From a full seventeen course Ktarian tasting menu with paired beverages offered by the foremost beach resort on Risa, to the unique pipius claw dumplings prepared by the quadrant’s foremost Klingon-Terran fusion restaurant on Torvel Prime, there was no shortage of candidates.
In recent years, the title holder had generally been agreed to be the lanola bush salad from the planet Goval IV. When prepared in just the right way by one of the planet’s most skilled chefs, and eaten during a total solar eclipse, the bio-luminescent properties of the salad leaves were said to be the most beautiful light show in the galaxy. Not to mention the tastiest. The rave reviews, and the exclusivity offered by the unique requirements for the salad’s light show, went some way to explaining why every restaurant on the planet was booked solid for the next twelve solar eclipses.
But for all of that, as far as Natasha Kinsen was concerned, the most delicious meal in the Alpha Quadrant was a double cheeseburger (with all the trimmings) prepared by the ancient food replicator of the Bounty.
Without hot food for the last six months, surviving on her meagre diet of ration packs, the vision of one day being able to eat a double cheeseburger (with all the trimmings) again had been one of the only things that had kept her going. And so she sat in the tiny dining area onboard the ship that had rescued her hungrily devouring her third straight double cheeseburger (with all the trimmings).
After accepting Denella’s welcome offer of a sonic shower and a change of clothes, this was the first thing she had done upon beaming aboard with her unlikely rescuers. And although the tatty brown overalls the Orion woman had offered her didn’t entirely fit, and didn’t even smell like they had been freshly replicated, she didn’t really care. Thanks to the feast she had treated herself to.
So complete was her focus on her meal, it took her several seconds to realise that the door to the Bounty’s dining area had opened. She looked up, mid-mouthful, to see four figures staring back at her in the doorway. She recognised the amused faces of Jirel and Denella, but they had been joined by a scowling Klingon, and the single scruffiest Vulcan she had ever set eyes on.
Who appeared to be stifling a giggling fit.
Not for the first time since she had arrived on the battered vessel, she was forced to wonder if she had beamed aboard a madhouse.
“I hope you saved some replicator power for the rest of us,” the Vulcan grinned as he gestured to what was left of her display of gluttony.
She awkwardly swallowed her mouthful and managed an embarrassed smile.
“First hot food I’ve had in three months,” she managed.
“Good answer,” Jirel replied, looking at the others, “Ok, let’s eat.”
Denella and Sunek ambled over to the replicator to order their food. Jirel went to follow when he noticed that Klath was still staring at their guest. And still scowling.
“A human,” the Klingon stated flatly.
It wasn’t the sort of reaction that settled Natasha’s nerves, even as Jirel turned back and offered her an amiable shrug.
“See? Told you this was a good crew. He did all that without a tricorder.”
After a few more awkward seconds, as the disgruntled Klingon and the visibly worried human continued to stare at each other, Jirel decided to try a different tack.
“Fine, we can do this the formal way,” he sighed, “Klath, I’d like you to meet Dr Natasha Kinsen. Junior medical officer for gamma shift, USS Navajo. Dr Kinsen, meet Klath, the Bounty’s resident people person.”
“Now that’s funny,” Sunek quipped as he and Denella returned to the table with their food.
Natasha managed a slightly nervous wave in Klath’s direction. For his part, the hulking Klingon did nothing more than shoot Jirel an annoyed glance, before walking over to the replicator.
“This was not part of the deal, Jirel,” Klath muttered as the Trull joined him, “What are we supposed to do with this…human?”
“Hey, you’re the one that found the lifesign.”
Jirel tried a grin. Klath didn’t reciprocate. He punched his order into the replicator with enough force to clearly underline his current mood.
“Look, it’s fine,” Jirel persisted, “Admiral Jenner wanted a black box, and he’s gonna get an actual survivor. If anything, he owes us double.”
“We are not in the business of transporting passengers,” Klath shot back.
“Let’s be honest, Klath,” Jirel retorted, “We’re in pretty much any business.”
He collected his own food and they joined the others at the table, Klath still muttering to himself as he did so. Natasha watched on, a million questions running through her head.
“Admiral Jenner?” she asked as the others ate, “So you do work for Starfleet?”
“We kinda work for anyone,” Denella replied with a friendly shrug.
“It’s just,” she paused, looking for the right way to phrase it, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t really see—”
“Starfleet employing the likes of us?” Denella said, completing her sentence, “You’re probably right, but Jirel here happens to have an understanding with the admiral.”
“Got a holoimage of him in bed with a Horta,” Jirel winked.
This was enough for Sunek to emit an amused snort. Natasha looked back at the Trill, not looking anywhere near as amused.
“Ok, serious answer. Your guys have kinda had some issues since the war. I mean, you won and all, can’t take that away from them, but they’re seriously low on starships right now, not to mention manpower. Especially out here on the frontier. Hence our...understanding.”
She saw an uncomfortable flicker of something play across his face at that, a reaction that she couldn’t quite place, but he quickly brushed it aside.
“So they’re sending you on rescue missions?”
“Nah,” Sunek chimed in between mouthfuls of plomeek soup, “They still handle all the important stuff themselves. But sometimes, if we’re lucky, we get thrown a bone every now and again.”
“As far as anyone was aware, the Navajo was lost with all hands,” Jirel added, “We were just here to find the black box and return it.”
“Yeah,” Sunek smirked, gesturing at her, “You were a…I wanna say ‘bonus’. Is that rude?”
Natasha’s head was reeling, but she tried to focus, looking back down at what was left of her third double cheeseburger (with all the trimmings).
“So,” she managed eventually, “What now?”
Jirel shrugged. “We’ll drop you off at Starbase 216 in a couple of days.”
“And hopefully get rewarded with some serious repairs to the ship,” Denella added, suppressing a shudder as she contemplated the extent of the to-do list the poor Bounty had racked up recently.
Natasha nodded, idly pushing the remains of her feast around her plate. Once again, despite everything that had happened, she found that the idea of returning to Starfleet didn’t exactly fill her with joy. In fact, if she had to approximate the feeling she got whenever she thought about it, she had to admit that it was something closer to dread. And secretly she knew why.
“Well,” she said, forcing those thoughts to the back of her mind, “I should get some rest. Thanks for the food.”
She stood up, feeling the eyes of the Klingon in particular still following her, and exited the small dining area. As the door closed, Klath folded his arms and growled.
“I do not like this,” he stated flatly.
“Yep,” Jirel sighed, “You’ve made that painfully clear, Klath.”
This did little aside from provoking another, deeper growl from the Klingon. For her part, Denella sighed uncertainly and looked over at Jirel, who mustered a smirk.
“Let’s all just calm down, ok?,” he offered to the whole table, regardless of who needed to hear it, “It’s just one passenger for a couple of days. What’s the worst that can—”
“Don’t,” Denella interrupted him quickly, “Don’t say that.”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the Bounty’s crew. After a moment, Sunek gestured to the remains of Natasha’s third double cheeseburger (with all the trimmings).
“Anyone gonna eat that?”