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Risa - Trust Me, I'm a Chef (Tag Kastarak, Serral)

Posted Nov. 24, 2022, 4:49 p.m. by Crewman Ngokav Sega'a (Yeoman / Steward) (Trin S)

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Serral Echei (Science Officer) in Risa - Trust Me, I’m a Chef (Tag Kastarak, Serral)

Posted by Crewman Ngokav Sega’a (Yeoman / Steward) in Risa - Trust Me, I’m a Chef (Tag Kastarak, Serral)

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Serral Echei (Science Officer) in Risa - Trust Me, I’m a Chef (Tag Kastarak, Serral)
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
(Snip!)
“I usually recommend the bread to anyone unaccustomed to Orion flavours,” he indicated poofy bread dusted with some tangy-smelling Orion spice blend. “If you do not mind a little sweetness, try this…” he lifted the plate of roasted fruits coated in a blue-ish sauce resembling a ratatouille. “It’s based the only dish my father knew how to cook. I don’t quite remember what he called it, but he said his mother used to prepare it for him in the summers. The other dishes are mostly Terran-influenced, but I would be delighted to prepare a true Orion supper for you in the future. Maybe when there’s less ‘extra’ stuff happening.”

“Thank you,” Kastarak replied. “I would look forward to the Orion dinner, too, should you decide to act on it once I return to the Chernov.”

“I wouldn’t miss the chance to spend time with you,” he assured, “and especially not to cook for you.”

He snatched a plate to fill, pausing when another thought crossed his mind, then glanced at Kastarak.

He took the plate, and tasted it. It was not what he would usually eat, but the colour was fascinating. As he chewed on the foot, savouring the flavours, he thought of the story that this was Sega’a’s family’s summer dinner. A family recipe, a dish without a name, that possibly helped anchor Sega’a with his family, despite the long distance from them. He had rarely heard Sega’a talk about his family before, and this helped Kastarak see another part of Sega’a’s identity – important enough that Sega’a would cook the dish, and relate the story. Perhaps some time, when Kastarak and Sega’a would be alone, he might ask Sega’a about his parents and identity.

“Oh, and Kastarak?” He pursed his lips in brief hesitation. “Thank you.”

That last uttering from Sega’a confused Kastarak. He did not understand why he was thanked. Yet, it seemed improper and illogical under the circumstances to enquire. He decided to save it for later.

Serral chose the poofy bread food, helped himself to a cup of iced tea, and then took a seat while Kastarak and Sega’a spoke in what looked to be a more private conversation. The food was, surprisingly, to his tastes and quite nice, really and while he ate he watched the strange cat like creature.

~ Serral

After filling his plate with one of everything and retrieving a glass of water (from which he removed the ice cubes), he plopped onto one of the many lattice chairs and directed his attention to their newest coworker.

“So, Mr Echei…” he balanced the glass on the uneven floor, “we – well, I – dragged you into this celebration before we got the chance to be properly acquainted. As I understand, you’re joining the Chernov, eh? If you don’t mind my nosiness, what do you do?”

— Sega’a

– Kastarak

Serral looked at Sega’a and if he weren’t so well trained in the Vulcan teachings of logic, one might swear he grinned a little bit. “I design prosthetic limbs, for amputee patients. I’m the designer of the internal components and external look of these devices, doctors handle the medical side of it.” Serral often worked closely with medical doctors. He could go on much longer but instead he managed to stop himself there and looked at Sega’a.

~ Lt JG Echei, Science

Sega’a leaned forward, intrigued. He couldn’t say he knew many prosthetists. Most of the engineer-type people he knew loved the ship stuff – warp cores, propulsion, external inertial dampeners – and sooner found themselves patients in sickbay than assisting them. Serral seemed to exist in the grey area between science, medical and engineering. And he wanted to know more.

It was, in Serral’s opinion, a perfect marrying of those three fields, and he had no interest in security, with some of the sorts of people that field attracted, he felt it only added to his workload. He had also sensed the emotions of those in need of his prosthetics before - the fear, uncertainty, sometimes despair. It was helping people, in the most empirical way he could have ever thought of.

“Wow! That’s quite the profession,” he grinned. “I mean, there are so many species in the Federation, and not all of them humanoid. It must be awesome to work with different types of limbs and functions.”

“Do you have a favourite prosthetic design from the ones you’ve done?”

— Sega’a

“The most difficult to design is not actually a non humanoid limb, those are just a matter of mathematics and studying the kinesiology of the species and especially the limb I’m trying to design. In fact, the most difficult for me, are Klingon limbs. They must be very durable, to withstand the Klingon… Way of life. They must be strong and able to hold a lot of weight. Yet also long lasting, because Klingons are unlikely to go for regular maintenance.” Getting Serral started was a mistake, unless one was prepared for an interest-rant on the topic. “Vulcans also are unlikely to come in for regular maintenance. You’d think, because we are logical, we would want to keep it working well, but often, if it is not interfering with their life or duties, a Vulcan will ignore problems until they get bigger.”

~ Serral

Sega’a pursed his lips in thought, eyebrows merging into what looked like a bushy black caterpillar inching across his forehead, and listened. He hadn’t realised all the minute details that went into limb design. Serral had to consider everything from his client’s gait to how often they might show themselves in a sickbay. It seemed, for many, that wasn’t often. When Serral mentioned Vulcans’ propensity for self-negligence, he couldn’t help a tiny chuckle. Even if rooted in logic, the thought of some Vulcans avoiding medical aid until their problem became unavoidable made them seem more relatable. Healthy? No, but relatable.

“I suppose we all have our vices,” he said. “Your work sounds most rewarding, Mr Echei. If you don’t mind visitors, I would love to see what you work on one day… if it doesn’t violate someone’s privacy, of course.”

Noticing that he hadn’t heard Kastarak for a minute, he glanced over to find Hago rolling dangerously close to him with a ball of streamer entangled in her claws. Sega’a shook his head and smiled somewhat apologetically at him. Hago wasn’t the most self-aware when toys were involved. “Is she bothering you?”

— Sega’a

OOC: Whoops! I thought I replied to this. Totally forgot what he was going to do, but here we are. :) —Trin


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