Posted by Lieutenant Commander Kohr (Executive Officer) in Sustenance and Shenanigans (Attn All Crew! Everyone Welcome!)
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… suppressed (20) by the Post Ghost! 👻
A soft turn of lip painted Kohr’s hardened features into the ghost of a smile—for the Klingon warrior, it was damn near an impish grin—and he hefted his fork over his plate as his eyes flickered between the two. It hove there for a heavy moment before slamming plateward to lance a tendril of gagh hard enough to make the glasses clink delicately in surprise. It lashed and writhed beneath the blow, curling plaintively around the tines of the fork before slackening in defeat. Kohr hefted his prize before his face to study it, as if waiting for it to give up the ruse and attack. Nodding in satisfaction, Kohr lifted it before them all and barked a dry laugh.
“Today is a good day,” he announced before shoving the gagh into his mouth. Between the languid grinding of his jaw, he added, “to dine.”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—
The hulking figure of the Intelligence chief sat down on the opposite side of the Klingon, he had prepared himself a simple chicken salad with a glass of water. He generally needed to consume copious amounts of food each day but he carefully regulated his diet so that he could eat with crewmates without gorging himself just to maintain mass. He raised an eyebrow at the Klingons… well joke was the best word for it “Indeed it is” He said in a quietly amused tone.
Rende chuckled heartily at Kohr. “Okay, if we are ever stranded planet side I claim Kohr. We will all eat well if he does the hunting, and we’ll let Sigmundsson do the cooking because that plate of his looks amazing. And Kohr you better hunt a lot because I might be old, but I can pack it away. What about you Woods? Who would you take if you were stranded?” Rende placed some of the smoked salmon on the soda bread, creating a make shift sandwich and took a bite.
Korczak took a seat at the table having retrieved a plate without anyone noticing. On it was an assortment of foodstuffs: the smoked salmon with a dab of sour cream, a dark bread with honey-butter spread across it, a Bajoran pâté made from one of their indigenous birds, a small bit of Deltan steak tartare, cold pickled vegetables, and some of the writhing gagh. As he sat down, he looked at the Klingon XO and smiled… and then simply picked up the wiggling thread with his fingers and lifted it to his mouth, biting down on the head with his back teeth while simultaneously draining the blood from the now-deceased worm and chewing it up and swallowing in the traditional Klingon fashion. He then lifted a glass of a dark purple juice and took a sip, nodding in approval of the dish.
Markus tried to ignore the small voice in the back of his head screaming about eating worms. Not that he had a problem with eating actual other creatures. Insects and the like didn’t really classify as ‘food’ in his mind. Though they were full of protein and nutrients. And they had to be at least some kind of good if, even with the advanced technology that Klingons and the Federation had, they chose to eat gagh. There were other prey animals, like targ, that he imagined had to be rather good eating. For gagh to beat it out? Or perhaps it was a matter of pride, and intestinal fortitude? Nobody actually liked it, but it kept them mentally and physically toughened, especially for survival situations where optimal food might not be available?
Rende could eat Gagh, but she didn’t like to. The blood tasted too sweet to her. Now a rare braized Targ, that was worth showing up for.
Who knew, both could be true. Instead, he focused on Kohr and Korczak’s emotional state and attitude about it. That was much more positive, and knocked off the edges. Reaching over, he raised a glass to the XO. “I’ll drink to that,” he said with a grin.
Peter looked at the Captain then at his salad, true he had prepared it using available materials from the buffet but it was hardly a great looking meal. He silently muted his more suspicious tendencies and quietly ate. He eyed the counsellor as he ate the gagh, Peter had never developed a taste for Klingon live cuisine although he had partaken on a number of occasions both within and outside the Empire itself, he often wondered if other Humans ate it simply because it was so unusual, relatively few human cultures ate living food.
She looked around at the other plates, all a reflection of the person. They may not be ‘pretty’ but the combination of flavor and textures were appealing to the person. Rende and Eldorin had learned long ago that presentation really meant for nothing. As long as the food was edible that was all that mattered. If it tasted good, that was a bonus.
Setting his glass back down after taking a long draught from it he leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t hard to see the gears turning in his head at a high rate of speed at Rende’s question. “Well, that’s situational. I’d like to think I’d do alright in most survival situations, if I have a few basics on me. Buuuuut, if I’m gonna be honest, Cap? I’d take you. Or your husband.” Expecting most to not follow his reasoning he pushed on. “You joke about your age. But with that age is experience. I’d bet dollars to pesos you’ve got more skills and experience than all of us in this room combined. Knowledge weighs nothing. Pretty sure you can hunt, shoot, build shelter, and put together a radio out of parts while keeping everybody entertained. Barring that, somebody solid from medical. I can handle myself all around, but I’m no wilderness E.M.T.”
He glanced around to the other seniors gathered there. “Anybody else?”
Peter shrugged “Starfleet survival training is usually enough to keep you alive in a jungle environment provided you can find a water source. An engineer or Scientist is always a safe bet” He said between bites of his salad, he used a regular-sized fork which seemed a dessert fork in his hands. “A doctor is of course preferable for pure survival but the end goal is always escape or rescue”
“Or evasion…” the Counselor said somewhat softly and with a small smile as he took a bite of smoked fish and sour cream.
Rende pointed a skewer still filled with meat at the CIO, “Now see, he gets it. He doesn’t have to be the best fighter, the fastest runner, or a sharp shooter. He just has to be faster than the slowest person in the group.”
The Klingon listened respectfully, considering his options as he ate the various portions of food he’d picked out for himself. He had not expected the others to take an interest in his gagh but shared it easily; much of a warrior’s meal was in sharing, both in food and in song, to build camaraderie before the battles to come. He noticed the apprehension about the slightly-squirming dish but made no comment. Eating plants like a beast struck him with much the same sense of befuddlement. Once the gagh was gone, Kohr considered both the question Rende had posed and a roll of spiced fish wrapped in something humans called “wrys” before taking a bite of roasted meat instead.
“It is true that Starfleet trains well,” he noted absently, “but the true test would be in how much we have each retained. Indeed the captain is experienced, but long-lived does not always mean well-honed. I am certain there are situations even she would find challenging. I intend no disrespect, Captain, but I cannot recall the last time I heard of you practicing your survival training.”
Rende nodded, “That’s true, last time was…The Dominion War. But I was enjoying semi retirement.” She taught a combat class a couple days a week for the Academy, but other than that she’d been enjoying not working. And being in command was far to comfortable these days. At some point Star Fleet had decided to make the captain’s chair comfortable and being comfortable wasn’t something she thought a captain should be. Then again, her old bones were thankful for it.
The Klingon pushed his plate back with a thumb and folded his arms across his chest pensively. “Assuming we were only stranded with, say, two other members of the crew, I would take Lieutenant Asam and Lieutenant Sharvi. Your mate would be quite adept in the construction of shelters and watercraft, and Tath’ihl is prepared for any maladies we might incur on our journey. Each would offer their own degree of specialization, but their general function could be covered by either if they became incapacitated.”
“Unless, of course,” Kohr chuckled, leaning toward Rende with a flash of amusement in his eye, “your husband does not know the Warrior’s Anthem.”
—Kohr, Executive Officer—
Rende grinned reflecting Kohr’s amusement. It would be a hard pressed fight between her XO and her husband, but Eldorin would hold his own. Just not in the way people were expecting. Of course that didn’t mean he would win in a physical confrontation. Eldorin was an experienced fighter, but it was his mind that made him dangerous, even in a fight. He had no delusions about his physical prowress. He was fit and trained well enough, but he fought smart. Rende was the brawler. She didn’t say anything, Eldorin didn’t need her to defend him and Kohr had issued the challenge.
Eldorin looked towards Kohr and to Rende, a smile on his face as he started to gently hum a tune with lyrics softly making their way from his North Irish accented lips “Qoy qeylIS puqloD Qoy puqbe’pu’ yoHbogh matlhbogh je SuvwI’..... Something like that anyways I think…” Eldorin said, truly reciting the entirety of his knowledge but not giving away that he always got too drunk on blood wine to remember anything after the first three lines. He was after all a light weight and was good at hiding it, Rende knew and for the most part Eldorin enjoyed a drink once and a while but it was nothing that would make a Klingon warrior proud. He pointed a fork at the XO and said, “Me dear XO when was the last time ye took a look at who authored the Starfleet Survival Training guide hmm?” Now to be fair it wasn’t himself or Rende, but he wanted to see what the XO would do. She was consulted and her name did appear in the combat sections as a primary instructor, but he wanted to make the XO sweat a little if possible.
Internally Peter cringed at the song and for a moment his control slipped and he groaned audibly but he covered it quickly with a bite of his salad and managed not to change his expression at all. He did eye the Chief Engineer at his comment, taunting your superior was never a good plan no matter how ancient or well married but he didn’t comment.
Rende didn’t hide her cringe. Eldorin could not sing in Klingon. But the cringe did hide the roll of her eyes as the antics between Kohr and Eldorin thickened. She wasn’t worried about it. She and Kohr had spoken and she’d made it very clear to Kohr that Eldorin would get no special treatment from her. Crew discipline fell on Kohr’s shoulders and she expected him to treat them all the same. If Eldorin was out of line, she expected Kohr to handle it. Of course Kohr was Klingon and off duty expectations were different for them. More in line with how Rende thought. And Eldorin knew this too. Hell when he’d been in command and she’d served under him, he’d given her formal reprimands on more than one occasion. Ones duty did not cross over into ones personal life. But then, they’d had centuries to learn that - the hard way.
Korczak watched the conversation and smiled. His look was passive… but there was a glint in his eyes that said he found some of what was being said amusing.
Kohr did not give Eldorin the satisfaction of a glance in response. Instead, the Klingon took another slow bite of roast with a blithe expression on his face. He had come to know the rougher side to the Asams; one could say they were almost Klingon in their humor when they knew one could take it. The chief would not go so far as to drag him across the table for a headbutt as one would expect in the Empire, but that would not prevent him from barbing Kohr into wishing he had.
“Death cares nothing for names,” he replied with a dismissive grunt. If the chief wanted to trade jibes, Kohr would indulge him. “Knowing the name of Kahless does not make historians into warriors. It is through the use of the bat’leth and the spilling of blood that one finds their ghojmoH!”
Kohr gave a sly chuckle and sank his teeth into a hunk of meat from his plate. It was no flank of targ, but it did well to push his point home. A part of him did, however, wish he had a pint of blood wine instead of the softer drink he’d chosen. This gathering was finally getting interesting!
—Kohr, Executive Officer—
Picking up on Kohr’s change in demeanor, that he was amused, interested, and even screwing with the chief engineer brought a grin to his face, though he mostly focused on his plate. At the same time he felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease and drop. He knew only a little of Kohr. Some of his history was in his file of course. The guy had been through a lot, and while he might never be able to go back to his own people, Markus couldn’t help but be glad Kohr was on their side and on their ship. THe viking actually had a history of Klingons aboard. What better place for cultural warriors than on a ship that paid homage to warriors of old? That thought alone made him smile more, mostly to himself while waiting to see how the matter would play out.
Lt Woods, CSO
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