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Sustenance and Shenanigans (Attn All Crew! Everyone Welcome!)

Posted Sept. 16, 2021, 8:10 p.m. by Lieutenant Markus Woods (Chief Science Officer) (Sam Haynes)

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Janusz Korczak (Counselor) in Sustenance and Shenanigans (Attn All Crew! Everyone Welcome!)

Posted by Captain Rende Asam (Captain) in Sustenance and Shenanigans (Attn All Crew! Everyone Welcome!)

Posted by Captain Rende Asam (Captain) in Sustenance and Shenanigans (Attn All Crew! Everyone Welcome!)
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻

(snip)

Entering the mess it smelled lovely, the chef had been busy and there were dishes from every species, drinks to satisfy any preference, and some surprises that the chef wouldn’t let Rende peek at. Rende got a sparkling ginger lemonade and then made her way over to sit placing a hurdy gurdy in her lap and began to play a few chords and warm up pieces.

Rende, CO

A few moments later the door hushed open and Kohr stepped into the room, taking a measured look over his surroundings. A wide array of trays and stands stretched along the long wall opposite him, bubbling or hissing to one another in culinary conversation beneath star-strewn windows. Drinks and appetizers littered smaller platters and simmered in pots to his left nearest the kitchen, staff bustling out to top off this or that before retreating. Tables and chairs had been pleasantly spaced in the interim space teasing intermingled conversation while allowing hushed collusion depending on one’s whim.

The captain had suggested dinner. What he’d found could have been considered a banquet.

The Klingon gripped his left wrist in his gloved right behind his back and drifted further into the room. I chose to gird myself well, he chuckled as he nodded to Rende and her husband, noting their dress. His own choice of dress was a bit less formal—a well-tailored cassock of deep burgundy piped in silver and cinched with a wide woven leather belt—but not entirely out-of-place. While he did not fully understand the intricacies of formal gatherings as these, Kohr was well-acquainted with crew morale. After retrieving a simple glass of water, the Klingon made his way before the El-Aurian pair.

“Reporting as—” a teasing smile curled the corner of his lips “—requested, Captain. Are we expecting a delegation?”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

Rende grinned and shook her head. “No. I’m afraid the chef went a bit over board. I asked for a dinner with a variety of dishes to represent those attending. So that there would be something palettable for everyone. I told her it would be a small dinner. I think she is either trying to impress me, or she got carried away in her task. Either way she seems happy when she came out a moment ago. So a feast for a small group of 7. Either way it all smells wonderful.”

Rende, CO

“Indeed,” the Klingon nodded. “It will be quite challenging to the palate, and the stomach. But a warrior does not shy from challenge, no matter the suffering of his belt.”

Kohr’s face remained unreadable, placid, yet his deep voice held a playful purr to it. Humor was a difficult battle, he’d come to realize. Most were used to his hardened visage, a presence he imposed on his subordinates as executive officer. Klingon humor was just as harsh, even brash. There were those within the Federation not used to such direct tactics, and thus he attempted a more… diplomatic approach when he was off-duty. Rende, however, was not the average Starfleet officer and was of like mind in many ways.

Rende grinned, she liked Kohr. She had taken over as Cpt of Viking with a full senior staff and an experienced and contemplative XO. But in her short time here there had been changes in the staff. Some coming to the end of their careers and ready to retire, some needing a change of location after the events of the old Viking, and some moving on to bigger and better things in their careers. And so she’d found herself in need of a new XO. She’d scoured the applicants. Kohr had accepted the position and so far Rende was very satisfied with the decision. “I grew tired of hearing the complaints of my belt and tossed it out an air lock long ago. But you and Eldorin should swap stories some time.” Hiding a smirk Rende went back to her hurdy gurdy and coaxing small melodies and rhythms out of it.

A thought struck him, and he frowned. Not at the prospect of a more intimate gathering, just the physical effect of mental realization. “Seven. The senior staff, then. I shall consider my repast as we wait.”

Kohr inclined his head once more before turning and taking a seat not far from the captain. Another challenge faced him now, one he had struggled with for many years now: what to eat. An individual rarely considered what it was they desired to ingest. It was an instinct, often what other crewman coined a craving. The body hungered, and they ate what it told them to. It was almost a preternatural communion to most between the intestinal and the intellectual. In his experience in dealing with his fellows, a few would even call the act of dining spiritual, sublime. Euphoric, even.

For him it was a conflict of voices, a dissonance between instinct and intelligence. He had spent his formative years among his own kind, eating their meals and steeping in the rich culture that was all things Klingon. In recent memory lay the experiences of living and working alongside the Federation, encountering myriad cultures and their habits. Between those two disparate identities lay a dormancy—a dreamlike void of ephemeral recollection—where the Borg had taken him and stripped him of such simple desires, where Kohr had been a being of pure and blind purpose. Even after many long years he felt himself struggling to rediscover who he was at the core.

A steadying breath brought him back to the present, and Kohr distracted himself in the reflection of his glass. A vague and stout shape stared back from the shimmering surface. I would know you, he thought sternly. One day, you will reveal yourself to me.
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

El-Aurians were a race of listeners and empathic. What many people didn’t realize it was in the listening that their empathy worked, the emotions carrying on the words, the sounds, uttered by those being listened to. And so there was nothing for Rende to pick up on, but she’d been in command often enough to know when people were contemplating deep concepts only relevant to themselves. The chef and her staff were putting out the finishing touches, which was a bit much, but Rende couldn’t fault the woman, the chef obviously loved what she did - feeding people.

Slowly Rende began to turn the handle and the sound of the bow on the strings began to sound, and then she started playing the keys and the gentle sound of the hammers against the strings added to the complexity of the sound. And then the captain’s voice:

(snipping out lyrics but the link is still below)

(https://youtu.be/pyIXR3s8OtY)
Rende (With special thanks to Patty Gurdy)

Peter had just entered the room in time to hear the Captains singing, he quietly stepped into a dark corner to watch and listen. He was wearing dark jeans and a collarless shirt. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows revealing thick and moderately hairy forearms. The shirt was a dark green, almost black that fitted loosely over his considerable bulk. After the Captain finished he brought two hands together to clap, he tried to do so softly but still made a loud sound.

CIO

Rende nodded to Sigmundsson as he entered while she continued to sing. She grinned and bowed her head slightly to the clapping. “Thank you. It’s only taken me a couple centuries to master this. Be glad you weren’t around when I started. Poor Eldorin had to live through it. I think he still has the specialized ear plugs he made. Get a drink and come join us Cmdr. The chef has gone a bit overboard, but I’m sure it’s all very good.”

Rende, CO

Kohr inclined his head respectfully in Sigmundsson’s direction with a muted “Commander.” The intelligence officer was the only ranking member aboard the Viking that the Klingon was required to look up at, and the rare few he didn’t seem to outright intimidate. Upon his initial arrival to the ship, Rende had also been nonplussed by his stature; he simply assumed little existed left to surprise a being of such an extensive lifespan. It was a quality he could scarce imagine.

Taking a sip from his glass, Kohr watched the door distantly and considered his first assault on the buffet before them while waiting on the rest to arrive.
—Kohr, Executive Officer—

The aforementioned door hissed open as another figure entered. Steel gray eyes took in the room. Commander Sigmundsson was there as well as Captain Rende, Chief Rende, and Commander Kohr. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans, somewhat pointed boots, a button down blue western style shirt that was open at the collar a couple buttons revealing a black undershirt. A dark, corded bracelet wrapped around his left wrist, by way of both sleeves being neatly rolled up. They were almost folded more than rolled. The only thing that seemed missing was a Stetson cowboy hat, but he’d opted to leave that in his quarters.

Seeing the more formal attire others had opted for, he paused, then turned toward the door for a moment, considering, then began to roll his sleeves down and secure them. “Fashionably late, as always,” he muttered to himself.

Lt Woods, CSO

Rende looked over at the door, “Lt Woods, welcome. Come join us.” She was shook her head to herself with a slight smile watching Woods roll down his sleeves. She was wearing slacks and blouse. Nothing horribly fancy. Eldorin was wearing a formal uniform because that was what he felt most comfortable in, and she hoped the rest of the staff did the same. She had no desire to stand on formality here.

OOC: fixing split

Peter returned the Klingons gesture with a nod of his own “Sir” He then turned to the Captain after grabbing a nearby drink, merely holding it. He smiled slightly at her comment “I think this will do nicely” He said gesturing to the veritable feast “It will be good to see the crew gather again, especially to get the old and new crew to mingle and mix”

CIO

“I have found, in my old age, that good people paired with food is all that is needed.” She grinned and looked at Eldorin, “Or am I remembering wrong, again?” She and Eldorin had an easy banter after so many centuries together. And often is was that banter and ribbing that put those around them at ease. Being of a species so long lived often made others curious but also uneasy. They had learned long ago that others, not familiar with them often learned to relax when they saw the good natured picking between the two.

Rende, CO

Korczak, the ship’s new Counselor took in the scene while he sipped a cocktail. When he came in was anyone’s guess, but the non-descript man smiled as he watched the gathering from the edge of the group, seemingly content to watch and listen.

Korczak, CNS

Markus gave a nod to Korczak, then reached into a pocket, flashing the corner of something. The Chief of Neurosciences was close enough to see that it was a pack of playing cards. The cards disappeared back into his pocket as Markus made his way over to the CO as bidden about the time he finished buttoning his sleeves back. “Captain. Lieutenant,” he said by way of greeting with a nod. The scientist shuffled his weight from side to side and stuffed his hands into his pockets, not knowing what to do with them at the moment. Have I really gotten this awkward and rusty with dealing with people outside of being on duty? Maybe he was more shaken by the previous ship’s dark history, experiences, and time aboard than he’d thought. Idly he cleared his throat. “So what’s the occasion,” he asked.

Lt Woods, CSO


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