Lunch

Posted on Thu Feb 2, 2017 @ 5:01am by Lieutenant JG Zander Devereaux & Lieutenant JG Mar Megara

Mission: An Orion to Die For
Location: The Black Hole
Timeline: MD 3 || 1400 Hours

Meg followed Zander down to deck 10 where she looked around, wide-eyed at all the different shops and bars. She might have looked like a tourist if it weren't for the fact that even while grinning like an idiot, she managed to maintain an expression of hawk-like cunning. It was probably because of the Klingon ridges. Klingons never looked as if they were gawking, even when they actually were.

They entered The Black Hole and she was immediately distracted by the posters on the walls. "Fall Out Boy," she read one of the posters. Had that been a movie? It sounded like a movie. She'd never heard of it, though. "This place is fabulous!" she commented.

"Wait until you try the food," Zander said as he gave a nod to a few people who were having lunch at a nearby table. "They even have their own coffee menu, if you can believe that."

He led the way over to a table that was near a window and took a seat. "Whatever you want is on me," he said.

"Well, I never say no to free food," she replied, taking the seat across from him. "What do you suggest?"

Zander reached to the center of the table and activated a holographic menu which displayed the same thing on either side of it. "They have pretty much anything you want," he said. "Coffee, beer, booze, you name it, they have it. Same with food. I was going to grab a Hasperat wrap myself."

Meg grinned. "Would you believe that I have never had Bajoran food even once in my life?" she asked. "I have had Klingon food. I have even had Vulcan. But for some reason, I never had Bajoran. Which is very strange because my mother and step father are Bajoran."

"There's no time like the present," he said as a Betazoid waitress wearing the uniform shirt of The Black Hole came over.

"Would you like to place your drink and appetizer orders before you decide on a main course?" she asked politely.

"The darkest beer you have," Meg replied. She knew it wouldn't inhibit her while on duty because she had once drunk five beers in a matter of ten minutes and it hadn't even registered on a blood test. Klingons just didn't get drunk easily, especially on beer.

"That would be our Guinness Foreign Extra Stout," the waitress said and looked at Zander. "Raktajino, one sugar, no cream, right?"

"You know me. I need to switch up," Zander laughed and looked at Megara again. "Would you like an appetizer to go with it?"

Meg considered for a moment before giving the waitress a winning smile. "Whatever your favorite is," she said adventurously.

"That would be a Hilrep, Sadi and Espress Cheese platter," the waitress said before she looked at Zander, curious to see what he'd order.

"I'll have half a dozen nuclear wings, an order of potato skins and some mozzarella sticks," he said.

Meg grinned as the waitress hurried off to get their drinks. "Nuclear wings," she repeated. "They sound... caliente."

"They're as hot as the warp core when we're doing emergency warp," Zander said. "I don't know if you like spicy food or not, but if you want to try one, they'll make you sign a waiver. Don't worry, though; they have a medkit on hand for people who bite off more than they can chew."

"That is quite all right," said Meg, not afraid to admit that she was a wimp in this particular area. "Venezuelan food is not very spicy. I will stick with the... whatever it is she said. And hope it is not spicy," she added with a grin.

A laugh answered her comment and he leaned back in his chair. "You ordered a cheese and fruit platter," he said. "All Betazoid, which means it's about as mild as a counselor and subject to put you to sleep halfway through it."

"Fruit!" exclaimed Meg, delighted. "Is that what it is? Good. I love fruit. It is like dessert."

"Oh, if you like dessert, you're going to love the dessert menu this place has," Zander said. "Our last Assistant Chief of Flight created a chocolate dessert that is out of this galaxy. It has every type of chocolate in it that you can imagine."

In this, Meg was a typical girl. She loved chocolate. Vaguely, she wondered if other Klingon women liked chocolate. "I am definitely getting that," she said.

"So, you never really said what you like to be called," he said. "You can call me Zander, asshole, hey you or an assortment of others, but call me late for coffee and we got problems."

"Most everyone calls me Meg," she replied with a grin. "Except my mother. She insists on using my full name. She is the only one, though."

At that time, the waitress showed up with a platter of blue and yellow fruit with a creamy looking cheese, a platter of Zander's wings, potato skins and mozzarella sticks, the coffee for him and a Guinness for her. "If you need anything else, just let me know. My name is Cheri," she said with a smile.

"So am I everyone, or do I get to call you Meg, too?" Zander asked.

"You may call me Meg, yes," she replied, trying the blue fruit first, which was very sweet and reminded her vaguely of mango and watermelon. "Oh, this is good," she said.

"Meg it is, then," he said as he picked up a mozzarella stick and dipped it in sauce before he took a bite and washed it down with a drink of his coffee. "So what do you like to do for fun?"

"I play rugby," she answered. "And I sing a little, too. I used to sing with a band in the academy. Latin music, so of course I already know the words." She grinned and winked as she chose a piece of the yellow fruit this time, which wasn't as sweet, but had a stronger taste that was definitely pleasant. "How about you?" she asked.

"I like to program holodeck adventures of the high seas," Zander told her. "I have a three parter right now about a Captain and one of his crew who get tossed overboard and washed up on the coast of an unknown land. Then they get set upon by the natives who think they're there to steal their treasures. It gets really interesting after that, but I don't want to spoil it if you ever decide to check it out with me."

"It sounds like fun," she agreed. "I don't suppose it includes smoke monsters or secret hatches or mysterious people, does it?"

"Hah! I can't get away all the secrets," he said. "What kind of pirate captain would I be if I started giving up the loot and booty to every wench who batted an eyelash at me?"

Laughing, Meg batted her eyes at him. "I don't suppose it has much of an effect coming from a Klingon, does it?" she said. "I should stick with death threats and insults on your family to get what I want."

"I doubt that would work, either," Zander said as he reached for one of the nuclear wings. "Most of them have become immune to my insults and threats."

"I will have to think of something else, then," she commented with a cheeky smirk. "After all, a girl had to get her way somehow."

"Is that a fact?" He asked as he raised an eyebrow and took a long drink of his coffee.

"Of course," she replied, swallowing the cheese she'd just sampled. "Haven't you ever noticed that girls always get what they want? I think it is a law," she added, topping a piece of the cheese with a piece of the blue fruit and tasting it. She nodded approvingly at the combination.

"I can't say that I have," Zander responded as he reached for a potato skin and chewed on it thoughtfully. "Nope. It doesn't ring any bells. Where did you hear that at?"

"My step-father," answered Meg, trying the yellow fruit on the cheese now. "He insisted that women are always supposed to get what they want because otherwise, they will make men miserable. I think it is true," she added with a wink.

"So you plan to make me miserable if I don't tell you the secrets of my holo-adventure series?" he asked as he took another drink of coffee. The woman was definitely interesting and he wondered if he were going even more insane than other thought him to be.

"Hm, no, I don't think so," she replied. "I think I would rather be surprised after all. Like this," she added, holding up a piece of cheese on which she had placed a piece of yellow and blue fruit. "This is delicious," she said, taking a bite and chewing it slowly. "Surprises are delicious."

"Would you like to try one of my nuclear wings?" Zander asked her as he lifted the dish that held them. "I'm sure that you could handle them since you're half Klingon. If nothing else, you could say that you made the attempt."

She gave him a look that clearly told him how insane she thought he was. "I think I like having taste buds a little too much to try those," she said.

He laughed at the look on her face. "So you're saying that I have no taste?" He asked as he picked on of the wings up and held it up.

"Well, you are sitting here with me, so obviously you have some taste," she teased.

"Or it could be that you're just here for the free lunch after feeling sorry for the Damaged Control Specialist who has a habit of getting busted up on the job," Zander said as he ate the wing without batting an eye.

"Or perhaps I thought he was cute and he made me laugh," she countered. "But, you shall have to guess because I am not telling."

"Well, for the record, I think you're cute, too," he said with a smile and raised his mug of Raktajino in salute. And I think I'm crazy, he mentally added.

Meg grinned and winked. "Only cute?" she teased.

"Were you a fisherman before you joined Starfleet?" Zander asked as he finished off another mozzarella stick and nodded towards them. "Have some of these if you want."

Meg laughed at the fisherman comment, but did not reply. Instead, she took one of the mozzarella sticks, placed a piece of blue fruit on top and bit into the concoction. "Ai Dios mio," she muttered. "This is fabulous. You have got to try it."

"I'll pass," he said with a look that suggested he'd rather throw himself into one of the three warp cores. "Are you sure you don't want to try one of my wings? It'll put hair in places you didn't know you had and then burn it off again."

"I think I can live with never trying one of those," she replied. "I'm sure my mouth with thank me later."

"naDev tlhInganpu' reH up for qaD ghaHlaw'," ¹ Zander replied in Klingon.

Meg blinked and stared at him blankly. "No hablo una sola palabra de Klingon," she replied automatically. In fact, as a child she had spoken it fluently, but she hadn't used it since she was four and had forgotten everything except "qapla'."

He was glad for the universal translator's interpretation of what she said as he didn't speak Spanish, but a look of confusion crossed his face at her blank look. "You don't speak Klingon?"

"Not even a little," she replied. "I haven't spoken it since I was four years old. All I remember is qapla', which, I suppose is useful. My father is probably rolling over in his grave."

"Why didn't you take it at the Academy?" Zander asked and mentally kicked himself for asking that instead of about her father. "And as for your father, I am sure he would be very proud of you for becoming a doctor and being on a ship of the line in Starfleet."

"Probably," allowed Meg. "Perhaps he is looking down from Sto-vo-kor and is proud even now. Wait, is Sto-vo-kor considered 'up'? And we're back to rolling over in his grave!" she added with a laugh.

"I don't know if it's considered up, sideways or diagonal, but it isn't Gre'thor," he said as he polished off his potato skins.

"Very true," answered Meg. "And he is definitely not there. He died in battle. I know enough about Klingons to know that it is an honorable death."

"Then that's what counts," Zander said as he signaled for a refill of his Raktajino and looked back at Meg. "Do you want anything else to drink before we order?"

"No, I have enough," she replied, adding the last piece of yellow fruit to the last piece of cheese and chewing the whole thing at once.

"You can't be full already," he said. "That was just an appetizer. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"I meant the beer," she clarified. "I can easily eat ten times what I just finished. But, I can survive on half of the same."

"So you can eat five times as much and have the same effect as eating ten times as much?" Zander asked with a laugh as the waitress refilled his coffee.

"Not exactly," she replied. "Of course the effect is different. But, what I meant is that I do not need as much to survive as I am actually capable of eating."

"So if I were to feed you nothing but say, Gagh and water, you'd be able to survive as if I were feeding you steak and potatoes?" He asked as he finished off his last nuclear wing.

"Accurate," she confirmed. "But, I would probably get sick of it and force feed it to you in about three days."

"Is that so?" Zander asked after taking another drink of his coffee. "Are you that one that mama warned me about, or is it all bluster to hide the soft teddy bear that's lurking under the surface?"

She leaned forward slightly and said in a conspiratorial tone, "have you ever met a Klingon who was a teddy bear in disguise?"

"There's a first time for everything," he said. "You're the first Klingon that doesn't speak Klingon, so that proves that not all are the same. I bet you don't even scream souls to Sto'vo'kor when they die on the operating table, do you?"

"No, I do not," answered Meg, sitting back again. "But, I do not think I am a teddy bear. Perhaps a nice stuffed wolf. With real fangs. Mostly harmless."

"I've seen a fanged teddy bear before," Zander said as he activated the holographic menu on his side of the table and started flipping through it. "So you could be a teddy bear pretending to be a wolf."

"And I could be a wolf pretending to be a teddy bear," she said, also activating her own menu. Very softly, but just loud enough for him to hear, she began singing, "oh, here she comes. Better watch out boy, she'll chew you up."

He looked up at her and arched an eyebrow. "You really don't want to get me singing. People pay me bricks of gold pressed latinum to stop when I get going. Trust me."

"It is all right," she replied casually, flipping through the menu. "I can sing well enough for both of us."

"They do have karaoke here," Zander said as he placed an order for a twelve ounce medium well sirloin with a baked potato and green beans. "You should come and try it out."

"I most certainly will," she replied, placing her own order for surf and turf- rare on the steak- with mac and cheese and garlic mashed potatoes. "After all, it is not everyday you get to hear a Klingon singing Latin music."

"That wasn't Latin you were singing a moment ago," he noted as he took another sip of his coffee. "So what kinds of music do you like besides Latin?"

"Just about any kind," she answered. "I have even listened to a bit of Klingon opera and it is... well, it is not terrible."

"So what else do you do for fun?" Zander asked as their meals showed up and the waitress looked at her.

"Do you wish anything else to drink?"

Meg thought for half a second before she replied, "perhaps one more of these," indicating her drink. Then, as the waitress headed off, she picked up knife and fork and answered his question. "Rugby," she said. "But, I think I mentioned that. "I enjoy sports and studied martial arts until I entered the academy. My mother thought it would be a good outlet for the natural aggression that comes along with Klingons."

"That sounds like a good way to get it out of your system," he said with a grin. "Me, well, you already know what I like to do. Besides drink coffee, that is. What makes you who you are, though?"

"My mother, I suspect," she deadpanned.

"Drumroll, maestro!" Zander exclaimed. "The lady scores a point and I am undone!"

She afforded him a small smile. "To be honest, I am not certain what makes me who I am," she replied. "I suppose everything from my past contributed to who I am today. Or were you fishing for a story about when I was six years old and gave a boy a bloody nose for making Klingon jokes?"

"That depends if you'll give me a bloody nose for asking," he hedged with a crooked grin. "Of course, it wouldn't be the first time I've gotten a bloody nose from a woman, so I may as well ask. Did you?"

Meg nodded. "It is what caused my mother to put me into Martial Arts classes," she replied. "I learned better ways to deal with jackass kids. A sharp tongue hurts worse than fists."

"You haven't seen my personal coffee cup if that's what you think," Zander told her as he cut into his steak and took a bite. He chewed it and swallowed, then took a drink of the strong Klingon coffee. "It has a knuckle duster built into it for a handle."

"Faces are easily mended," she pointed out. "Hearts and minds, not so much."

"What if you're insane and don't have a heart?" He asked as he reached for his coffee. "Not that I'm heartless, mind you."

"The insanity of the attacker does not change the ease with which skin and bone can be mended," she replied.

"Right, but as you said, faces are easily mended," Zander said after taking another bite of steak. "Does that imply you've had your heart broken before?"

"Hasn't everyone a time or two?" she replied, pulling some of the lobster meat out of the tail and dipping it into the butter. "With the exception of those with no heart."

He ate a forkful of green beans and nodded his head. "Or six or seven if one keeps count," he said. "Me, I think I lost count."

"I did not lose count," she said. "I remember them all. Well, there have not been many."

"I've lost count, but there's a very good reason for it," Zander said as he signaled for his third cup of Raktajino.

"You sound as if you would like to tell me about it," she commented, cutting into her steak- which was red inside, just the way she liked it.

"It's simple," Zander said as he finished another bite of steak. "I'm an idiot when it comes to women."

"As are most men," Meg agreed. "But, then, I've found that most women are idiots when it comes to men, so..." And she took another bite of her steak.

"You can say that again," he laughed and raised his coffee cup. "Here's to stupidity, the most abundant thing in the universe."

Meg laughed. raising her own glass. "To stupidity," she said. "May it never affect us and always affect our enemies!"

Zander glanced over to a chrono over the bar and winced. "Lieutenant Kramer is going to have my head if I don't make it back to Engineering soon," he said. "But I have a history of officers wanting my head for one reason or another so he can wait a few more minutes."

Meg followed his gaze. "Hm, I should be getting back, too," she said. "I have, after all, been here less than a week. I do not need a reprimand on my record all ready."

"That's true," he said as he gestured for the waitress and asked for two to-go boxes. "Me, I'm used to getting reprimands. I collect 'em so I can have stories to tell one day."

"Not me," said Meg, gobbling up a couple bites of the mac and cheese. "I do not think I have had one since I was seven years old."

Zander laughed at that as he began to box his lunch up. "Mine is less than seven weeks old," he said as if it were a proud accomplishment.

Meg finally abandoned eating and began boxing her own lunch. "I should spend more time with you," she said. "Perhaps I can be a good influence."

"Good luck with that," he said with a smirk as he finished boxing up his lunch. "I'll probably end up corrupting you and you'll have your own collection."

"I am not easily influenced," she said, closing the lid on her box of food. "As you see, we are heading back to duty, as I suggested."

"This is true," Zander said as he came to his feet. "It was truly a pleasure to meet you, Meg. Perhaps we can meet again on the holodeck next time?"

"Of course," she replied standing. "After all, you still owe me one of those chocolate whatever it was."

"I do, do I?" he asked with a grin. "Well, then that means that I get to keep you in suspense until you collect."

"I'll bet you like keeping girls in suspense" she said with a smirk. "Hasta luego, Zander." She she took her to go box and headed towards the door, hips swinging like no Klingon had a right to.

Zander watched her go with a grin and shook his head. "They just don't know..." he said as he grabbed his box and headed out back to Engineering.

¹: "Here I thought Klingons were always up to a challenge"