Salt

Posted on 25 Sep 2015 @ 9:34pm by Commodore Juliana Terlexa

784 words; about a 4 minute read

Mission: Rude Awakening
Location: Deep Space 11
Timeline: MD5 - 1830 Hours

Deep Space 11 - The Compound
Main Galley
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Chef Marcoper Weiss stirred the blood orange juice reduction sauce with one hand, while a second hand was adding salt flakes to the grilled endives. His third hand was adding butter to the frying pan where he would sear the New Bajor scallops that were to be served as the mise en bouche at the reception. His fourth hand stirred the pan as the butter started to melt and sizzled in the hot pan.

The Terellian chef was amongst the top chefs in the Alpha Quadrant, having learned from the best chefs in the galaxy. Starfleet had offered him the assignment on Deep Space 11 by appealing to his ego, declaring that he would serve as culinary ambassador for the entire Quadrant. The chef was happy. He ran a tight brigade, and all were extremely competent.

"Jeremy!" he called out. "How's the soufflé coming along?"

"It's rising, Chef!" came the pastry chef's reply. Weiss had ordered a hasperat-goat cheese soufflé as the appetizer. He worked mainly from local produce, with the scallops, hasperat and goat cheese coming from producers on New Bajor. There was something in the atmosphere of the planet that intensified the flavors of every ingredient. Nothing in tonight's ingredient list was replicated. Every product was authentic, and he was proud of that fact. After the mise en bouche and the entrée, he had planned a braised korva belly with a morel duxelle and roasted vegetables, followed by an Uttaberry mille-feuilles and reinvented Bajoran strawberry shortcake with balsamic reduction.

He loved formal receptions.

The galley doors opened, and Commander Stanton, the Station's First Officer, stepped in.

"Everything under control?" he asked. The Commander was something of an epicurean, and Weiss was accustomed to the Commander showing up on some pretense or another to smell and taste the food.

"Of course it is," replied the chef, feigning offense at the question.

Stanton leaned over the blood orange juice reduction, and smelled the aromas coming from the saucepan. "This smells wonderful," he said.

He grabbed a spoon. "May I?" he asked. But without waiting for an answer, he dipped the spoon in the pan, collecting a few milliliters to sample. But as his hand hovered over the pan, his little finger tightened slightly, squeezing a drop of liquid into the juice from the vial he was holding.

He aspirated the syrupy liquid, and smacked his lips. "Delicious," he declared.

Weiss beamed proudly.

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Deep Space 11 - Station
Station Commander's Quarters
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Captain Terlexa adjusted the collar on her dress uniform. She hated the formal dress whites even more than she despised her standard uniform. The standard uniform, she hated it for what it represented. But the dress white, she also hated it because it was the damn ugliest thing she'd ever worn - and it was uncomfortable, on top of it all. But it was protocol, after all.

She brushed a lock of red hair back into place, and added a hairpin to the collection that was already holding everything in place. She was actually looking forward to the reception - she was a big fan of her Chef's culinary creations, and tonight promised to be something memorable. For reasons beyond cuisine, of course, but the food would also be part of the highlight.

The door chime rang.

"Come in," she called out.

The doors opened, and Commander Stanton walked in, similarly in dress white uniform. He gave a simple nod, a confirmation that he had completed his assignment.

Terlexa nodded in return, and smiled as she finished adjusting her hair and applied a bit of perfume. She examined her reflection closer in the mirror. Fine lines had appeared at the corners of her eyes, and were it not for her stylist's help, her hair would now be streaked with grey. There was a sadness in her eyes, one that had never disappeared over the past fourteen years - not since that fateful day on Betazed, when her children had…

She pushed back the memory and turned from the mirror, facing Stanton. "All right," she said. She took a deep breath, and focused her mind.

Stanton stretched out his hand, and offered her a hypospray. "Don't forget the antidote," he said.

"Of course."

She took the hypospray and pressed it to her neck. The antidote would counter the drug that Stanton had placed in the food. Undetectable by taste, the drug would only slightly affect the mind of whoever ingested it, but it would lower their mental barriers, leaving their minds wide open for the telepaths at the reception. This way, they could identify potential targets for conversion to the Consortium's cause.

"Let's go," she said.

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