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Onboarding Sandwich

Posted on Fri Mar 8th, 2019 @ 12:10pm by Commander Rita Paris & Petty Officer 1st Class Cicero Delacroix

Mission: Gaia Reborn
Location: USS HERA, Deck 9, Crew Mess Hall
Timeline: 2396

It generally caused a stir when an officer strolled into the mess hall.

It caused more of a stir when the officer in question was Commander Rita Paris.

The woman was singularly;y unique, in more ways than one. She was tall- 185 cm in uniform, though a good seven and a half of those were in the thick-soled chunky-heeled explorer's boots she wore, which protected her up to her knees. The short skirt of the minidress looked challenged to keep her rear covered, but matching briefs underneath had long been a part of the uniform, for Starfleet's more bounteous servicewomen. At least, in the 2260 model uniform she wore, in command gold.

These days command was crimson. But Rita was stubborn, and the Captain was accommodating.

Three pips studded the left side of the loose black V-neck collar of her uniform, a nod to modern rank decorum, making her identifiable, After all, no one on modern starships could be expected to interpret the two braided stripes on her wrists as a commander's rank.

Buxom and bouncy, she also marched with martial purpose, moving with her long-legged stride through the room. She turned heads and she caught the eye, and even with the return of the colorful uniforms of yore to modern Starfleet, the anachronistic astronaut stood out in a crowd. Particularly as an officer in enlisted country, a seemingly omnipresent PaDD clutched at her hip.

Once she reached the line, the commander got in line behind a fire controlman, who offered for her to go ahead, but she declined. Since she was here on a mission, she reasoned she may as well review things from the enlisted side and see how the galley was treating them with real food.

Deep Space Nine had been a charming station, a lot larger and more updated than his old posting several years ago on K-7, yet still there was an uplifting sense that came over him when he cleared the docking rink, crossed the threshold and set foot aboard the Hera. There was a ton to do and not a lot of time to do it. No sooner had he set foot on the USS Hera, the starship was requesting permission to release the moors. The Nebula class starship eased away from the station and when safely away from DS9, she jolted off at high warp.

Petty Officer Cicero Delacroix was a several months shy of his thirtieth birthday, but nevertheless this felt like an early gift to him. A new posting was always fresh, whether the starship or space station be of a new class and design, or be something that has been aged with time like a fine wine. The USS Hera seemed to be like the latter, an older mature woman of a starship who still got her nose dirty but always came out on top, surviving another day.

On the ninth deck of the fine starship were two mess halls; There was a mess for officers and a mess for enlisted crew. Cicero had been bouncing from deck to deck section to section giving himself a quick tour and checking on storage and supplies as well as a close inspection of the mess halls. He had stopped at a computer terminal to download the deck listing of the USS Hera specifically. Though Nebula class starships were mass produced in years past, they were not always identical from one another. Various pods could be attached to the starship's hull for mission specific parameters, and interior customization had become rather commonplace with starship classes that had seen multiple refits over their lengthy service.

Cicero was leaning over a table in the crew mess reading through the PaDD with deck listing information when the First Officer walked in. "Saucer Section...deck one conference room and observation deck. Deck five has VIP accommodations. Then there's here on deck nine with the officer's mess and crew mess. Deck ten has Ten Forward. There's banquet halls located on deck eleven. Deck seventeen of the saucer sections contains the upper mess decks and deck twenty of the saucer section has the lower mess decks" he muttered to himself. He let out an whistle of impression. "That's a lot of culinary space" he said to himself.

He looked up when a flash of goldenrod or mustard yellow caught his attention. Antiquity had walked through the doors and was on her way straight to towards him, and Miss Antiquity had curves and a rank. It was Commander.

"Hello there, Commander" he said breaking away from the table to greet her. He was a little shy at first because not only was she stunning, but she was also a high ranking officer and from what he surmised, this lady was the First Officer. Cicero practically stood at attention for her. "Were you on the holodeck, Sir?" he asked taking note of her uniform. "If I recall my history correctly....twenty third century Starfleet uniform...2260s?" he said with some hesitation. He thought he was correct but he wasn't going to wager a bet.

"Well spotted, Petty Officer... Delacroix?" The Commander glanced at her Padd in confirmation, but refocused back on the moment and the encounter, extending her hand for a handshake and offering a winning smile. "Hello, I'm Rita Paris, the first officer of the Hera. Welcome aboard." Her enthusiasm seemed genuine, and the woman seemed surprisingly good-natured.

The half Napean lit up with delight. The woman's last name brought on a nostalgia for a place he considered close to home in his heart. He could taste the Parisian cuisine in his mouth. The chocolate mousse, the macarons, and the wine. He extended his hand taking hers and gave a fine handshake. "Paris" he said and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Ah Oui" he said the accent he had acquired from his years in the old French region of Earth slipped through. "Just like the city" he added.

He found the woman to be warm and inviting and though she hadn't permitted him to ease verbally, he felt his muscles relax naturally with her presence. "Commander Paris, it is my honor and a pleasure to meet you and to be serving on this fine starship. Petty Officer Cicero Delacroix, Culinary Specialist at your service. You're welcome to call me anything that's easiest for you, Sir. I'm somewhat used to 'Cis' from my last posting, but I'm not married to it."

"I'll be frank, I have a tendency to refer to the crew by their rank, titles or an honorific, so I'll bear the nickname in mind, Chef." The Commander gestured for the new crewman to have a seat, and she did the same. "As for the rest, mai ouis, tout comme la ville. I'm an earth girl, born and raised in San Francisco, but my family is most certainly French in origin. As for the uniform, you'll find that I'm a bit of a throwback. According to official records, I was lost in a transporter accident in 2260, onboard the USS Constitution. I'll give you a moment to digest that before I start in on my questions." Establishing just whom he was dealing with and giving him a feel for her command style, the easygoing executive looked around for where to get a cup of coffee.

Cicero nodded and smiled politely. "Sir, I meant nothing by it. I've been called Chef, Petty Officer, and various other things over the years. Some people are more formal and others informal. Command styles from one place to another don't line up perfectly and I'll be in one place where the Captain practically wears a leisure suit off duty and another where they are never seen out of uniform. I have several duties as Culinary Specialist, Sir. One of those jobs includes making sure all the crew are as comfortable as can be within reason. So, whatever you are comfortable addressing me as, I'll come answering to it with a pep in my step and a sense of urgency when necessary," he explained to her.

The 2260 transporter accident did not really phase him. "Say no more, Commander. Transporter accidents, cryogenics, stasis fields...I've been into the Delta Quadrant. I've been to several dozen worlds and met some of the strangest species humanoid and non-humanoid. This is Starfleet, weird is part of the job" he said with a smile. "I don't need a moment, but you look like you may just need a little something to perk you back up...long shift, Commander?"

"Not yet, but it will be. I'm glad to hear your attitude, Chef. The Hera is very Starfleet in that odd things happen and we do our best to make the most of the situation and come out the other side with the best possible outcome. We succeed most of the time, and well," the throwback officer chuckled, crossing her legs in a scissoring motion. "We're still here."

"This is your onboarding packet," the Hera's resident Lost Navigator explained, handing over the tablet she'd brought with her. "Deckplans, some basic information, chain of command and such. It also has your appointments- you'll need to meet with the ship's physician for your mandatory onboarding physical, and you'll need to meet with the captain, of course. Beyond that I apologize for not meeting you when you came aboard- we got a mission and had to move, and I found myself needed on the bridge. I've assigned you berthing here on Deck 9, as both galleys are here, and we've enough room that NCOs rate their own quarters. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by the size of the accommodations as well as the matter allotments. Any questions for me?"

Cicero took the onboarding packet and started giving it a skimming of a read. However, he was paying most of his attention on the woman. "I can definitely handle the galleys in deck nine" he said softly. "I will be sure to see the ship's physician as soon as I finish up here. No apology necessary, Commander. I know how busy things can be on starships. I've noticed there are several banquet halls, messes, and the Ten Forward Lounge. Would you like me to keep my focus on deck nine or branch out and oversee the other areas as well?"

"For now, get your feet wet," the girl anachronism explained in an incredibly dated metaphor. "Captain's Table tends to be handles by the Captain's wife. Ten-Forward tends to be just replication at this point, so just oversight should be fine until you get your sea legs with the Hera. In truth, I'd rather see you focus on the Enlisted and Officer's galleys. They are interconnected by the rather prodigious kitchen between them, so it's easy to oversee. Honestly, it seems most of these modern crewmen grew up eating replicated food, so you might be surprised how much actual cooked food goes into the reclamator every day. But maybe you can change all of that- or change it a bit, at least." Realizing that she might be setting too high a bar, Paris restructured the orders.

"The crew know the fresh food option exists. Your primary function is to give them that option and perhaps expand their culinary horizons a bit. How you choose to go about that is entirely up to you. Take care of the crew and support them is your goal, and the expectation of the command staff." There. now she's set expectations, which was a big part of what she hadn't covered, and she was grateful for the Chef's questions. "Out of curiosity, where did you go to school? What are your specialties?"

Cicero nodded as he fully understood. "I appreciate this assignment and I can work within those guidelines, Commander" he said in response to the bit of information she gave. "Hopefully with my being aboard they will stop depending so heavily on the replicators and become more aware of the more natural and fresher options that I can prepare for them" he added.

"Schooling" he said briskly. "Well, I attended school on Earth. It's a smaller place called Walnut Hill College. I learned both cooking and baking to which I would say I prefer baking, but cooking is more of a required skill in the positions I've had. My specialty is French cuisine, but I have taken a particular interest in vegetarian dishes. When you serve with enough Vulcans, you learn to make the most out of your vegetables...albeit at the expense of losing your heavy hand with seasoning."

That brought forth a good-natured giggle, barely repressed. “I can certainly understand that. Well, we have a rather large hydroponics lab so you should be able to grow whatever produce you wish in conjunction with the Science department, and serve as you see fit. Vegetarian is not an uncommon diet onboard starships, so that will be not at all unwelcome on the Hera. Heck, I wouldn’t mind learning a recipe or two. I’m a fair cook, but self-taught, and I am always on the lookout for vegetarian Earth cuisine.”

“So what are your goals in hurling yourself out here into the black with Starfleet?” The question seemed directed and confrontational, but the cheerful commander asked in a casual manner, as if just making conversation instead of interrogating a new crewman. “Everyone has different reasons for leaving home. Studying on an alien world to learn cuisine then signing into Starfleet to serve in the fleet isn’t the most common of career paths. So what drove you out here, Mr. Delacroix?”

Cicero blushed and his dark eyes locked onto the woman. "It's true. You do not typically find cooks, chefs, culinary specialists and such serving in Starfleet let alone on starships. There's a higher need on planetary bases and on space stations, especially massive ones" he admitted. He could not really say otherwise. It was true given the replicators and even before then, some form of food synthesizer had been in service.

"Commander, I know that it may sound strange. Why would a young man at the beginning of his culinary training leave Earth and sign up for Starfleet?" he said somewhat paraphrasing her. "Well, I think the simple, short, and sweet explanation is that I simply wanted adventure or I wanted to make a difference and help people. You cannot really make a difference or help people by working in the kitchen of a civilian restaurant" he said with the short story.

He knew she deserved more than the brochure description. "My parents wanted me to follow in their footsteps. They wanted me to do what Napeans do" he said carefully. "I'm half of course, but Napeans join Starfleet as scientist, engineers, and physicians. Some of us have made terrific counselors, but my passion is cooking. It's artistic and it's expressive, but I still want to help people and do it by doing what I love and enjoy. Starfleet provides me with that opportunity and what Chef can say they were out on the front lines encountering new species and civilizations...making the next greatest trendy culinary discovery."

As the new crew member spoke, a smile spread across the face of the fulsome first officer. “That’s why I joined myself, all those years ago. Space was more of a frontier then, but the reasons are still the same. I have to admit, I’m very glad to hear that’s why you’ve come to join us, Chef. I think you’ll find that you will experience all that and more, and the Hera is full of surprises.”

“You’ve answered all of my questions, and I feel I have enough to work with here. Do you have any questions for me, Chef? Open floor, ask away, permission to speak freely and all that.” If the woman’s cheerful casual air mixed with official purpose were ingenuine, she’d have to be an amazing liar. While some might offer an opportunity as entrapment, she seemed to be genuine in her offer.

He nodded before proceeding. "I do not mean to be rude, but was it difficult...adjusting to it all. Your temporal displacement I mean or whatever it was that caused you to be taken from the 23rd century and thrown into the late 24th century?"


“Fair question. As for how it happened, let;'s just say that I'm not overly fond of transporters and leave it at that. As for the adjustment... it was… it IS a difficult adjustment, really,” Paris admitted. “I’m forever discovering historical fact that everyone takes for granted. I literally had to study up on one of my old classmates at the Academy, because he accomplished quite a bit after I stopped keeping track of his already impressive career, and now it’s the stuff of galactic legend that any schoolchild knows. The technology is both intimidating yet somehow easier to use. Starfleet has changed, but they seem to be getting back to the core values of my day.”

“Captain Telvan recognized that I could still contribute, and she banked on her faith in me. Leadership, it seems, is timeless- the lessons I learned then are just as applicable now,” Paris explained simply. “There are still bright young sentients who wish to join, to contribute, to make a difference as we explore the mysteries and wonders of the universe. Who will need someone to make the calls, counsel them, and be held up an example of what a Starfleet officer should be. I fill that role to the best of my ability… just as I’m sure you will with yours.”

Standing, hands reflexively tugging down the hem of her antique minidress uniform as she did so, the comely commander offered her take on the conversation in a frank and forthright manner, which was apparently the woman’s default setting. “You’re good at drawing people out- I think we’re quite fortunate to have you working the galley, and I hope that you’ll find time to get to know the crew and interact with them. My better half once remarked that humans bond emotionally over the sharing of food, and I’ve certainly found it to be true. I think with you onboard we may see some of those bonds grow closer, and I genuinely look forward to seeing that come to pass.”

"Commander, I look forward to serving this starship and this crew. I look forward to getting them know me and me getting to know them" he said. "It is going to be an experience. That is for certain, and I can only imagine what it feels like to be ripped away from everything you knew and were used to. Then, to be spat out in a place similar but different" he added.

He looked at the woman with respect and admiration. "Some skills are timeless, Commander. I hope to have the opportunity on the USS Hera to show to the crew that I have much more to offer than designing menus and serving food."

 

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