A Layered Dish

Posted on Tue Jul 24th, 2018 @ 2:00am by Captain Enalia Telvan & Maica III 47 & Commander Rita Paris

Mission: Holographic Horrors
Location: USS Hera, Deck 8, Lieutenant Paris' Quarters
Timeline: 2395
Tags: Dinner at Rita's

It still counted as cooking if you replicated the ingredients, blended them together, then cooked them to create a dish. Back on the Exeter, Rita had cut a deal with the horticultural division, given how many vegetables she went through when cooking. Whole cooked meals came out of the food replicators in her day, not components or 'whatever you want'.

Since coming aboard the Hera, Rita Paris had redecorated her quarters, requisitioning the furnishings she desired, and overall the Starfleet legacy had done her best to make it feel like home. At least to her. The mesh walls and furnishings replicated the look and feel of starship quarters from the 2260's, right down to the indoor/outdoor dark blue short weave carpeting.

Of course, there were definite improvements. Which included an oven, although they did not offer as an option one of the tiny ez-bake ovens she used to have in her quarters on the Exeter. Now she even had a refrigerator in her actual room-in-her-quarters kitchen, which was an actual sectioned off section of her quarters. Which beat the hell out of using a corner of her desk like she used to on the Exeter. The oven was ready, of course, because it took no time to preheat. The replicator had taken her list of ingredients and replicated them one after the other as she removed them from the pad. In short order, pots were on the stove, sauce was brewing and noodles were boiling as the scent of oregano and fennel seed Italian cooking filled the air.

The Captain had gone to fetch the misses, so they could have a few moments alone before coming to visit some quarters where the remains of your silk tapestries aren't piled on the floor and most of the furniture isn't springs and wood. Riding the elation of their meeting on the flight deck, Rita realized this would be an entirely different dynamic. Which was when she realized that she might be making things more, not less awkward.

No. Humans have such a richness in your culinary traditions, inspired by your powerful sensuality and deep emotional commitment to food sharing, Sonak had said, and it was true. This was how her people came together, to know one another. This was a good idea- she needed to trust her instincts.

Enalia and Maica both had what amounted to overnight bags over opposite shoulders as they held hands, shoulders bumping as they made their way to Rita's quarters. They had made a stop first at their nearest cache of real foodstuffs to pick out several boxes of chocolates, then stopped by one of the public use clothing and industrial replicators for some uniform and clothing choices on the way. It was a bit of a waste of the already straining energy reserves, but they would be docked and replenishing their supplies soon anyway so it wouldn't matter much in the long run.

Giggling and pressing their foreheads together conspiratorially, they pressed Rita's door chime at the same time, hands still clasped as if it were the silliest thing they had ever done.

The door opened of it's own accord, as Paris could be heard thanking the computer. "C'mon in!" she called from across the cavernous quarters, which she had broken up with some lightweight movable walls stationed here and there to break up the large empty feeling of her allotted space. The path from the door to the living room was still clear, which then led to the dining room. Thus when Paris poked her head out of the kitchen, she nodded. "Come sit down! I have a few more minutes in the kitchen then we just wait for it to bake."

Maica and Enalia entered, and while Enalia took both bags, Maica couldn't help but be a bit nosy. "Oooh... I like how you broke up your quarters. It feels more like an apartment like this. Your use of color is nice too. It's a sharp contrast from the beige, gold, and silver across so much of the rest of the ship." The walls were, for the most part, mid 23rd century duranium, or 'starship grey'. The walls were mostly mesh and screens, and did not look sturdy save for a few load bearing versions.

Enalia could only smile as she headed to what she assumed was the dining table and where she was meant to sit. She slung both bags across the back of one chair, pulled several boxes of assorted chocolates out of one, then had a seat. "I wasn't sure what kind of chocolates you'd enjoy, so we just grabbed a bunch of sampler boxes. You're actually cooking, aren't you? I'm sorry... that's such a rarity these days."

"I know," Rita replied from the kitchen, which could be seen into from the dining room. For a change, she was clad in an oversize Starfleet Academy t-shirt with the collar cut out and a pair of navy leggings as she bustled about, draining the pasta. "It's much more convenient to replicate a meal and be done with it. But I enjoy the ritual, the assembly of the ingredients in a certain order that add up to the final product you're attempting to achieve. And if you do it right, you produce something by your own hand that enriches everyone at the table, and brings them closer through breaking bread together."

Stepping out from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a red checkered towel, Rita shrugged and smiled a wistful smile. "I don't know how many races have this tradition. But I know mine does. So I share it... with my shipmates, and my friends."

"It's a wonderful tradition that I think a lot of the Federation member planets have. A word of caution though - Bolian banquets can last for weeks. Divine food but the endless talking... Ugh..." Enalia waved a hand before sliding the boxes across the table. "As for Trill culture, traditionally, men do most of the cooking and it was never in my schooling growing up, so I never learned. It's one of the reasons we had a chef aboard, but she passed on during our last mission. Interested in helping me look for a new one while on shore leave?"

"I'd..." Paris took a moment to consider, and realized she had no idea of where they were going. She's have to hit Thex up to be her shore leave buddy. And she had to stay aboard for at least the first 48, because she was sending Mona Gonadie on liberty immediately. Once they were docked the flight control chief would discuss how to break up duty and shore leave between them. But in the moment, the captain was waiting for an answer.

Well, it is her space fortress... "I'd love to, ma'am. Only I'm not sure how much help I'll be- so far everything still tastes like either poop or tinfoil to me." Holding up one hand to Maica, Rita offered sheepishly, "No offense, Mrs. Telvan. I have an eating disorder on top of the food in this dimension tasting really off to me, so I swear it wasn't your cooking. Pretty sure my cooking is going to taste like mud too, but hopefully it'll be better for you two." At that realization, Paris paused.

"Holograms don't eat matter?" she recalled. "You offered me a holographic crab, which I still can't quite grasp how that works. But you, I can't cook for you because you're..." the hourglass heroine waved her arm in Maica's general direction. "I'm sorry- ah, how do I...?"

"Photonic?" Maica waved it off as she headed into the dining room as well. "Most of the galaxy is still trying to figure it out as well. As for the food, I'll scan what you serve and make a holographic portion I can eat. We do it all the time so 'Nalia doesn't have to eat alone."

"Oh... phew! Okay, thank you. I kinda felt like a jerk inviting you to dinner when I realized I hadn't cooked for you too. But hey, holographic portions work for me Muh... uh..." Rita paused in her layering of the hastily prepared sauce, sauteed mushrooms, ricotta and mozzarella cheese, baby spinach and wide flat noodles together, to sideye the emerald-skinned intelligence. "No one calls you Mrs. Telvan, do they, ma'am?" Rita asked Maica.

The married couple giggled like they were sharing an inside joke before Maica spoke. "I suppose we should explain our names, huh?"

"Telvan is the name of the symbiont - the slug in my pouch I share minds with," Enalia explained. "While joined, my last name is that of the Symbiont but the rest of my family would be named Artan."

"To simplify things, I kept my name the way it was for... Logistical reasons. Mechanized Artificial Intelligence Computer/Copulation Assistant Model Three Fork Fortyseven. Please just call me Maica though."

"I'll call you perfectly delicious," Enalia bumped her forehead to Maica's and spurred more giggles from the couple.

A finger upraised in question, then went back down again as Paris' mouth assumed something of an 'O' of surprise. Then the finger came up again, followed by a shake of the head. Finally she settled for a bit of a dazed expression and an "Okay. So, the uh, the symbiont... someday someone else will walk away with all of your memories ma'am? They'll remember everything, like, this conversation, or just general or.. I guess, how does that work?" There was no judgment in the long-lost lieutenant's tone. As usual, there was that Starfleet drive to try to grasp some understanding of the unknown as she finished layering the casserole together.

"Everything and a fair bit of my personality as well. Future hosts will be able to perform a ceremony where they'll literally be able to talk with me for a few hours and get to know just me without the noise of other past hosts or the symbiont." Enalia explained. "That should tell you just how deeply embedded in the Trill nervous system the symbiont goes. Removal means death for the host, but the symbiont can live over a thousand years."

"Wow, that's... that's really incredible! You're like the Doctor, or the Witchblade- moving from one life to the next, gaining experience as each of you advises the current incarnation... wow!" While it might not make much sense to anyone from this century, it made perfect sense to Rita as she managed to process yet another piece of an alien culture. Emboldened by her success, Paris pressed on. "So Maica... logistical reasons?"

"Uh... Doctor? Who?" Enalia muttered, clearly confused. "Whatblade...?"

Maica was a bit confused as well but she held out her hand, a Federation ID popping up above it. "I would have had to have gone through a lot to get it changed on my ID. Name changes are easy for organics, but the process isn't so easy for most artificial life forms yet. Unless you serve in Starfleet, I suppose... different processes there."

"I don't understand. Your ID?" Rita shoved the lasagna into the oven along with the garlic bread, then called out for the computer to replicate her a 30 ounce glass of water, thanked it and picked it up smoothly on her way to sit down at the rectangular dining room table. Plucking up a chocolate she popped one in her mouth, only to make a surprised face, then she laboriously chewed it a few times before swallowing it with a bit of effort. "I'm sorry ma'am, there's more that I don't know than do about photonic life in the Federation. The idea of holographic life is new to me, but I do think it's amazing. Also potentially worrisome I guess? Watching the ship's holo emitters go haywire was educational in that regard, to say the least. So what's the ID, just a scannable? A frequency identifier? Why is it hard to change, what's the reasoning behind that?"

Those big blue eyes widened as Paris backpedaled. "Assuming it's okay to ask you those questions and that I'm not committing some taboo, or being rude? If so, I'm very sorry ma'am, I mean no offense. I honestly just don't know, and if I don't ask I never will."

Maica smiled politely as she pulled her ID back. "No, it's perfectly fine. It's just an ID just like yours. You just carry yours a little differently. Mine is hard coded into my matrix while yours is in your comm badge or registered to your DNA. That's one of the reasons why it's hard for me to change mine though. Yours can be changed in a database while mine as a civilian would require etching inside of a nearly impregnable black box. Changing my internal identifier would be as hard as changing your entire DNA sequence."

"As for the holoemitters going crazy..." Maica glanced worriedly to Enalia, who knew exactly what she was worried about.

Enalia smiled comfortingly and squeezed Maica's hand. "Don't worry. I've put in an emergency request and her mothers are on their way. Akira will be better in no time. Thankfully the Merlin was nearby, so they'll get to the fortress shortly after us."

"You had Daedalus class hospital ships in your time, right?" Enalia asked of Rita, who nodded. The starship design of the globe in place of the saucer in Federation hospital ships went back even further than Rita's time, but she had been pleased to discover that the tradition held in the future. "One of the modern variants is the Hope class, and Maica's counterpart from another dimension now captains one. She's also one of Akira's mothers. She's an android though. Weird divergence in the timelines... Anyway, Andy, her other mother and Captain Maica's wife should be able to help Akira. She's a genius at this sort of thing."

"Oh... I didn't know anything had happened to the kid," Rita said, feeling somehow guilty that she hadn't realized the holographic girl would be vulnerable in such a moment, nor that she'd gotten hurt during their escape from the dark matter ion storm. "I was so focused on surviving deck to deck and getting us out of there I completely forgot... I guess I expected her to do the same as you and retreat to safety." It seemed moronic to ask about Akira's condition, since Rita probably wouldn't understand it anyway. All she could do was hope for the best. "I hope she'll be okay..."

"She didn't have a black box to escape into like I or the EMH did. Well, she did, but she didn't get into her android body before..." Maica looked a bit worried and downcast.

“I know why. I visited with her, because cap'n told me to. At the time, she was freaked out about the fact that she’d lost control of her android body down on the planet on the last away mission she went on. It was definitely traumatizing for her, and she was still struggling with it. I figured someone else was looking out for her, maybe her boyfriend or a counselor. I guess I should have checked up on her after all,” Paris frowned, feeling a bit chagrined that she should have put the clues together to realize something was wrong for the ops chief given her unique status and the nature of the emergency.

Enalia picked up where she left off. "Reports say that some sort of program with a Doctor and giant lizards and stone angels got past her security and corrupted her. She should be fine, but for now her personality matrix isn't entirely stable and she thinks she's some sort of... Lizard person? I'm a bit hazy on the details after that. I normally don't go in for all that holo-novel shenaniganry."

“Ooh, ohh, a, ah, a Silurian! I guess Doctor Who is a popular fiction here too- that stands to reason,” Rita mentioned as she handed a wine bottle and a corkscrew to the captain. “And explains why you didn't get my geek reference. Because you are many things, Captain, but you are not a geek."

"So- okay, bear with me if I say something awful here, but I've learned summary statements help at times like this. So Akira's core program got corrupted by a holonovel program and it made alterations to her? That poor kid, that’s got to be terrifying!” Rita fetched a trio of wine glasses out, as despite discussing a holographic shipmate and entertaining another, it continued to slip Rita’s mind that Maica did not eat or drink in the conventional sense, and she naturally kept trying to offer hospitality to her as if she were made of matter instead of light and force fields.

Maica didn't care, though. She just enjoyed the company. Enalia knew exactly what to do with the corkscrew and popped open the wine bottle professionally, and poured two glasses without so much as a single drop out of place. Maica then scanned one of the glasses and filled her own glass with a holographic copy of it while Rita wasn't looking. "She's had a lot of terrifying experiences in such a short life. Soon she'll start thinking existence is this horrific thing not worth experiencing, so I just hope she has some good ones. Like lasagna made by a friend."

“Aww, that's so sweet! Thank you," Rita paused to take the compliment and beam a bit- cooking did make her happy, and reminded her of good times in the past as she made good memories in the present. As the conversation progressed, Rita put a large potholder mitten over her hand to pull out the garlic bread, though no alarm had sounded. Transferring the split bread loaf to a cutting board that resembled wood, she pulled out a large knife and adroitly cut the bread into 3” pieces, then transferred them to a basket with a red napkin draped over it, so that she could draw up the corners of the napkin to keep the heat in.

"I caught some of her story, and it all sounds pretty traumatic. And she’s only a year old- I would never call her a kid to her face, but she definitely counts as one. And she was already on slippery footing from that… Denalia? mission, now this.” Delivering the bread to the table, her 'vintage' distressed t-shirt which read ‘Starfleet Academy class of 2255’ was spattered with sauce and water stains. Oblivious or uncaring of that fact, Paris hustled back to the kitchen to grab plates. “That girl might be the only person onboard who’s more lost on this boat than me. I guess I should keep closer tabs on her.”

"As her aunts, we'd both appreciate it," Maica said as she slapped Enalia's hand away from the basket of bread. "Wait for dinner to be served..." She whispered to her wife in a scolding tone.

Enalia pulled her hand back, rubbing the back of it. "Ah, definitely. And I know you'll enjoy meeting her mothers. They're both in love with a lot of twenty first century culture and will probably try to feed you... What was it? Burgers and fries? Greasiest food I had ever eaten."

“I hope not,” Paris muttered, knowing how her stomach reacted to greasy meat under normal circumstances, forget about when everything tasted terrible from a trans-dimensional transfer malady. “And don’t wait on the bread, it’s an appetizer,” the buxom blonde bustled over, setting a butter dish with room temperature butter, a butter knife and a shaker of grated parmigiana cheese on the table. It was also evident in that motion that she was wearing a sports bra underneath, as the shirt tended to flop open when she moved in such a way, which she did not appear to notice nor did she appear to care. A few splashes on a plate and she returned with oil and balsamic vinegar together on a plate, into which she cracked some pepper, setting the pepper shaker on the table smoothly as she departed again for the kitchen.

“Meanwhile, I’ll do what I can for Akira… I really feel badly that this has her so messed up on top of her still trying to deal with the last hit she took. She’s going to need a lot to be able to feel safe again after all of this… any good ideas there?” As per usual, it could immediately be relied upon that if someone had a problem, Paris wanted to help, and felt responsible for doing so.

Enalia gave Maica a quick kiss to her nose before grabbing a piece of bread and buttering it up. She also tossed a healthy coating of cheese on it before letting Maica scan it so she could have some as well. As they both munched on the garlic bread, they thought over the question.

"I don't think she has many friends." Maica munched and spoke, spraying a few holographic crumbs before covering her mouth. "This is simple, but so good."

“Warm bread warms the soul- not as effective as soup, but the old Earth phrase is that ‘man does not live on bread alone’, which implies at points in human history that they wish they did,” Rita commented. After all, she lived amongst aliens now, and her own culture was now exotic amongst the stars. If they were all going to share their culture with her, it behooved her to do the same. Slipping on her oven mitt again, she fetched the lasagna out of the over, then set it down on the cutting board to cool and set.

“Just five more minutes and it’ll set,” Rita reported, tossing the oven mitt on the small island counter where she kept the chopping block and from which she had been pulling the majority of her cooking tools. Bouncing into the dining room, she slid into an open chair with a wineglass in front of it, picked up her glass and smiled as she held it aloft.

“I’m a lot more comfortable on the Hera now, so I’ll do my best to try to help Akira do the same. Although I am not the best therapist in the universe, I have spent a LOT of time in therapy.” Paris giggled at that, then took a long draught off her wine, draining half of it at a go. “I don’t have many friends either, and I think I might have at least gotten that far with her.”

"Sometimes a good friend that's willing to listen is the best therapy out there," Enalia replied knowingly, letting her gaze fall back to Rita. "She may be photonic and composed of subroutines, but she's still a living, growing, sentient being full of young emotions. She just has different criteria for measuring her maturity and complexity."

“I didn’t… I mean, I don’t…” Paris stammered, missing the subtlety as she was immediately flustered. When she spoke, the words tumbled out, as they tended to do when Paris was nervous. “I think of her as a person, ma’am, just like all of our holographic crew. They’re just different than we flesh and blood-“ Paris paused, realizing she did not know that as a fact about the captain. “Well, than me at least, but that’s a good thing. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations. I didn’t mean to imply that she wasn’t… I mean, she’s, she’s a youth, still figuring everything out, no matter how complicated the story of how she came to be is. Her life and her feelings and experiences are just as valid as anyone's, ma’am. As an entity such as she is, she might well be immortal. Yet here we are at year one with her, helping her figure out who she wants to be as the galaxy throws crazy curveballs at her. That's brilliant."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. She's no different from you or me, she's just built a bit differently. At two months old, the AI metrics said she was mature enough to take on the role of department head. Her emotional and social development metrics..." Enalia waved her piece of garlic bread in the air. "That's where crew interaction comes in, and why I pressed for her to join my crew. So she could learn in real life what she'd never learn in the labs and smaller controlled environments and small ship they wanted to assign her to. The USS Merlin is a good ship... But there's only so much you can learn on a hospital ship with a tiny crew with your mothers hovering over you."

“Oh- I thought maybe I had said something to make you think that I thought lesser of her. I really have to stop jumping to negative conclusions...“ Paris’ eyes flickered nervously between Enalia and Maica, then she drowned the rest of her statement in the remainder of the glass of wine which she finished in a few long swallows. Putting the glass down on the table, Paris hopped up to scoot back into the kitchen again. “Okay, serving time… here’s hoping I haven’t forgotten how to do this.”

Slipping on the oven mitt, Paris fished out a spatula from one of the drawers of the kitchen island, then bore the steaming dish to the table. Cutting and serving the deliciously aromatic casserole as if she had done it a hundred times, in that moment the nervous and anxious Rita Paris somehow looked completely at home. At ease in a domestic setting, serving dinner. Which one would not expect from a woman whose life seemed consumed with her career in Starfleet.

"Are you sure you're a Starfleet officer and not a housewife?" Maica asked, noting the ease at which Rita slipped into the role. "Maybe we should introduce her to Captain Magnus..."

"No! Absolutely not!" Enalia was adamant about that point for some reason. "He may be a gentleman and a genius at running the Artan family without me, but he's a drunkard and a womanizer. Out of the question."

Maica pouted a bit as she scanned a serving and created a holographic copy for herself. "Aww... I've heard he's changed lately with all that responsibility though..."

"Whoah-ho-ho, ma'am's," Rita grimaced a bit as she shoveled out another serving of the fragrant meal of many blended flavors, that kind of smelled like a burning tire to her scrambled olfacory sense. "Don't go trying to matchmake me just yet. There is a very, VERY impressive gentleman out there who I assure you is tirelessly searching for me. I'm not counting out Sonak just yet. He's the last kolinahr- they have those here, too. A lot more of them, apparently, what with Vulcan still being in one piece. But where I come from Vulcan is dust and debris, and with it went all of the repositories of their greatest philosophies- save him."

Sliding into her seat, Rita picked up her fork and began to wag it like a conductor as she spoke. Apparently that much wine that fast on an empty stomach did things to a girl. "Tall, slender, athletic- maybe 8 percent body fat? Strong- I watched him very slowly bend steel bars in his bare hands. Part of it was this strength meditation thing he was doing, but still, very slowly and patiently? He. Bent. Steel." Crunchily plucking up a piece of bread with her fork, Rita wagged it about as she continued.

"Endurance. He could stay up and working without sleep for two months without it really affecting him. So, you know, it was basically til I cried uncle. He knew pressure points, and Vulcan massage techniques. On top of being very active telepathically, so he always knew how I felt, and could address it because he had no pride to wound, no ego to bruise, and he always, always made sense. When we'd do it, he could redirect my own orgasm back at me, f'rinstance... uhhn!" Curling up a bit in her chair, Rita's eyes squeezed shut as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Then it slowly dawned on her with whom she was having a conversation, and she opened her eyes and sat up straighter in her chair.

"Genius scientist with- I forget all of the specialty fields, but you get the idea. I'm not... I won't count him out. Your idea will let me give him a clue, Captain. He might just surprise us all after that." Rita hiccuped, covering her mouth in a charm school approved fashion. "I should eat, I think..."

Enalia and Maica giggled at each other knowingly as they dug into their lasagna. Maica was the one that spoke first though. "Yeah, there's nothing quite like a strong lover, whatever your preference. As for Vulcan massage techniques, if that's your preference, when you come in for a massage from me, I can do that if you like. Clothing optional, of course. Vulcan neuropressure can be rather intimate, but I'll leave the level up to you."

"I suggest you go for the full neuro-massage. Her fingers are freaking magic," Enalia blurted out around a bite of lasagna. "This is great. I mean, I can tell you replicated the ingredients, but the way you made it is amazing. We need to get you access to hydroponics."

“Is it? Good, I’m really glad!” Rita took a tentative small bite, made a face and swallowed with some difficulty. “I’d love to cook with fresh ingredients if we have them, but since this was spur of the moment, just making do. Tastes like burnt brussel sprouts to me, so I’m glad it tastes good to you. I used to make it all the time, so I was hoping the tried and true recipe wouldn’t let me down.” At that, Rita took another small bite, picking at her food not unlike she had when she had dined at the Captain’s table.

“As for that massage, frankly, I’d love one, ma’am. I’ve been so stressed since my ass dropped to the deck on this boat, and I don’t sleep well at night, and I’ve lost a little too much weight I think, because it’s affecting my workouts. Maybe if my chakras get realigned or something all of my food won’t taste like burnt garbage.” The buxom blonde of a bygone era took another small forkful of her food and did her best to swallow without chewing. “Naked is fine- I figure that’ll make you and the cap’n even and no fights over the view of the naked navigator’s altogether.” The casually-clad cosmonaut giggled at that, clearly a little drunk already.

Maica slapped Enalia on the shoulder and the captain raised a hand in defense. "Hey, I apologized and she accepted. The massage is between you and her now."

“All true ma’am, we talked it out and it’s all water under the bridge now. So please don’t abuse the captain, or I’ll have to stun you,” Rita joked, giggling a bit at the idea.

"Fair enough..." Maica wasn't entirely satisfied, but then another thought struck her. "Rita, hon... Has medical taken a look at why food tastes wrong to you? If not, would you let me?"

“I did have them do a workup on me after I’d been aboard for a day, but I haven’t gotten any test results back, so I’m not so sure how it went. But neuropressure and circulatory issues and so forth are definitely something that massage and pressure point manipulation can change, so yes ma’am, I’d be happy to let you do your thing. It’s one thing when I don’t eat because I am stressed, it’s another thing when I can’t because it tastes so awful.” Picking at her food, Paris frowned and pushed it aside after three small bites that were definitely not going to sustain her.

"In that case..." Maica got up and pulled a probe-like tricorder from seemingly nowhere. "Open wide for me and say ah." As soon as Rita opened her mouth, the photonic woman poked it almost to the back of her throat, scanning for several seconds with a frown.

"Hmmm... That's no good..." Maica pulled the tricorder out and processed the data, trying to come up with a way to solve her taste issues.

“Well, it can’t be my tonsils, they got dissolved years ago,” Rita wisecracked. “And my tongue is only good for trouble. Um, so what’s not good…?” she asked, trying and failing to hide the immediate anxiety the negative statement brought about.

"Your DNA is human... but not identical to that of this dimensions in the area of nutritional requirements. You're probably deficient in a couple areas. I'm reading low but human norm levels for B12, lithium, and zinc, but your cells seem to be starved for all of them. On top of that, stress can strain your taste." Heading to the replicator, Maica stared at it for a few seconds before it activated on its own and popped out a small glass with a swallow of a milky liquid.

Taking the glass, she brought it back over to Rita and handed it to her. "This should help, but it'll taste like shit. I'd also like to poke on you a bit with some neuropressure, if that's okay?"

“Everything does ma’am, so no worries.” At that Rita tossed down the shot, her face screwed up in a grimace, then she coughed. “Okay, I lied… that tasted extra extra bad,” the curvaceous cosmonaut croaked as she complained, sticking out her tongue and squinting with one eye.

"As for poking on me…” Rita looked to the captain for approval. Now that they were on much more steady ground between the two of them, she wasn’t about to misstep with the captain’s wife offering liberties that might cause friction. Rita Paris was, after all, an old-fashioned girl.

"She's the ship's masseuse and homeopathy specialist. Don't look at me." Enalia said shaking her head before downing another bite of lasagna.

“What, I’m just… unknown waters, ma’am. Always look to the captain for guidance, y’know?” Inhaling deeply then exhaling slowly, Rita looked over her shoulder at the green-skinned holographic alien entity she still didn’t quite understand. “Homeopathy, that's the word I was reaching for. Well, looks like we have a go for launch, ma’am. You may poke and prod when ready.”

"Then open your mouth, lean back, and relax." Without warning, Maica swatted down and cupped the back of Rita's head, her fingers splayed out to several pressure points while with her other hand, two fingers went into her mouth and under her tongue while her thumb went to the soft spot under her chin. Rhythmically, she massaged and pulled up on Rita's skull for over a minute.

“Glurk!” the surprised spacefarer expressed, as there wasn’t much else that she could say. As the pressure point physical therapist went to work, Rita tried not to focus on the fact that having someone else’s fingers in her mouth manipulating the soft tissues under her tongue felt terribly weird. Although she had to admit her background headache was subsiding a bit.

As Maica worked the back of Rita's skull, she kept a firm grip on her jaw as well, keeping her fingers on the neuropressure points there as she suddenly stood and contorted the displaced spacefarer's neck so that it popped first one way, then the other, likely causing a wave of blindness and disorientation as the blood in her head had no idea what the heck was going on. A few more moments of much more tender massage though and Maica finally let Rita go and stepped back.

Between the release of a significant portion of her sacrocranial tension and the supplement she’d taken at Maica’s direction, the combination had a significant calming effect on the neurotic navigator. As the talented hands finished their brief manipulation of her ailments, they withdrew their support, leaving the buxom blonde's head hung over the back of the chair. Rita Paris snored gently, lulled to sleep by the attention and her own exhaustion. However, her neck was uncomfortable, so she readjusted, causing her head slump forward, waking her up. Looking around, she blinked owlishly, clearly disoriented as she asked through half-lidded eyes, “Wha hoppen…?”

Enalia pointed at Rita with her fork. "I told you. Magic fingers." With that, she went back to eating.

Maica rubbed Rita's shoulder a bit and slid her plate back in front of her. "Here, try to eat a bit more, hon. You need the nourishment at the very least."

“Jeez, I thought you were bragging at least a little…” Rita muttered as the tense corded muscled of her shoulders started melting a bit. “Yes ma’am, I’ll give it the old Starfleet try.” Picking up her fork and scooping out a dainty bite, Rita hesitantly slid it into her mouth, only to form an expression of surprise. Rolling the food around in her mouth, she savored it a bit- it was the first meal that hadn’t tasted completely terrible since she’d gotten here. There was still a touch of that aluminum foil taste, but now that was a background flavor instead of the only thing she could taste.

“Hey, it worked!” Rita expressed in surprise before backpedaling a bit. “I mean, I know you know what you’re doing and all and I’m not casting aspersions on your skills, ma’am, but… wow.” The hungry helmsman took a proper forkful of the lasagna, slid it into her mouth then closed her eyes as she chewed, blissfully leaning back, a contented sound previously unheard on the Hera vibrating its way out of her.

"Excellent," Maica replied, heading back to her own lasagna. "The supplement in the replicator is Maica S32 when you need more of it. I suspect your tastebuds will let you know. When we get to the fortress, I'll give you the full hot springs treatment and get rid of the rest of that built up tension in you."

Enalia had to chime in at the mention of the hot springs. "The last time we were here I had them set for chocolate scented but I was thinking of switching them over to one of the mint scents. What do you two think?"

"Ooh, what about Bolian chocolate mint?" gushed the photonic babe.

“I’m partial to cinnamon and apples myself, but I’ve never scented a hot spring, so I’ll trust your judgment on that one, ma’am,” Rita offered between mouthfuls. “Pardon me if I make a pig of myself, but… thank you so much, Maica. I really needed that, and I genuinely appreciate you doing… whatever you did. I was trying to just deal with it, but this does make it a lot easier.” It was readily apparent to all involved that trying to deal with things internally was how Paris more often than not tried to deal with her problems, with the results speaking for themselves.

"You're very welcome, hon. If you need anything at all, please just let me know, ok?" Maica said with a big smile as she nibbled on her lasagna.

Enalia on the other hand, snapped her fingers with a flash of inspiration. "We have that drum of Risian cinnasilk. We could use that. Excellent idea. Thank you."

For her part, Paris nodded enthusiastically through a mouthful of food. As with so much of her life, she had been so focused on other elements- plotting her now aborted getaway, for instance- that she had been ignoring some of her most basic needs. Finishing off the small plate she had made for herself, Rita dug out another serving and dropped it on her plate. Looking around, she offered the others another serving in pantomime before half refilling her wineglass. Taking a sip, her eyes closed in bliss before she brought the wineglass back to her lips to drain it.

“Okay, that’s enough for me- I still have to dock a starship in another hour or two,” Rita snorted slightly. “But ohhhhh that’s good…”

"What? No dessert?" Enalia asked, scooching one of the sampler boxes of chocolates closer to Rita and pointing out the golden flaked one in the middle of the box. "At least try that one. They say it's orgasmic."

“Focwat?” Rita mumbled through a mouthful of lasagna, as she had completely forgotten about the variety of chocolates that the captain had brought to the table. While the first one she had tried had been awful, this time around she chose carefully, picking out a chocolate covered cherry. Swallowing the mouthful of pasta, the displaced damsel took a bite of the chocolate, angling the remains so as not to spill out the cherry syrup. But it was not meant to be, as once the first half was in the rest of the confection followed, and she chewed slowly, eyes closed, savoring the flavor while moaning slightly in a mild state of bliss.
When her eyes opened again, the ancient astronaut scanned the box again, seeking out the golden flaked chocolate in the middle of the box. Not bothering with bites, she just popped it in her mouth, then leaned back in her chair as she chewed slowly, sighs of satisfaction escaping her. “Mmmmm ff good…”

"Oh yeah... That's the look of satisfaction," the captain muttered as she finished her wine. Leaning back in her chair, she sighed. "I suppose I'll have to get ready to oversee the docking procedure now."

Holding her hand in front of her mouth as she spoke because she wasn’t finished chewing yet, Rita murmured around a mouthful of chocolate. “M’gonna bring her in ‘n Enfign Gonadie’d gonna fow me docking profedure. I hink she’s done it before…”

"Yeah, she has. There are six resupply umbilicals and three gangways we'll be lining up with, but the tractors should make most of it a breeze." Enalia stood and grabbed the still full overnight bag. "I'll be in your restroom for a few. Shouldn't be long."

Finishing swallowing the mouthful of chocolate, Rita sat back blissfully. “Thank you, ma’am. I have no idea what you did, but thanks… I really needed that. Sorry if I’m a little weird about… things,” Paris admitted, sitting back up and leaning on the table.

“The future is… this whole experience has been… a lot. And you probably aren’t exactly catching me at my best on top of all that… I’ve been stressed, I’m lonely, I’m…” Paris stopped short of saying ‘scared’, choosing instead, “a little nervous most of the time, and it’s not showing my best side, necessarily. But I’m learning, and the Captain offered me some help, so… I guess what I am saying is I’m sorry I am a little odd, Mrs.- ah, ma’am. It’s just a lot to take in all at once, you know?”

"Just Maica is fine," she replied, giggling softly as she pushed her now empty plate away. "I've gathered you've been stressed and not doing so well. 'Nalia's been worried about you more than she usually worries about people, so I knew something's been up. Even so, she's a normal person, and so am I. We all just have different resources, strengths, and weaknesses. You're a strong, intelligent, beautiful, young woman, and you've proven it. You just need more confidence in yourself. If there's anything I can do to help with the stress, just let me know. As for the loneliness... I do know a few holo-programs. But that's entirely up to you, I think."

“Old habits, ma’a- uh, Maica,” Paris course corrected. “You’re the captain’s wife, and I was a raised a bit old school, so it’s a habit. Sorry I’ve been worrying the captain- I didn’t realize that she knew what was going on, and that I was so freaked out. And… thank you. I’m still trying to get used to the idea that ‘normal people’ isn’t what it used to be back in my day,” the buxom blonde shrugged self-consciously.

“As for the rest, that’s all very kind of you to say, and I’m working on it, you know? But it isn’t… well, it is a little bit but… he was my rock, you know? I could be cool and collected all day, because at night I could just babble it all to him and he understood and didn’t judge, and he was smarter and wiser and he always knew the right thing to say, how to hold me, where to touch me...” Paris sighed heavily.

“I don’t know if it’s appropriate for me to say to a civilian, but Captain may have figured out how to let me get a message to him, and… no offense, but I really do hope he comes for me. I’m trying to adapt to life here, and getting used to all... well, so much of a different universe than the one I came from. If he doesn’t show up, then I’ll have no choice but to adapt, and I can, but… there’s a hole in me, you know? It’s a big hole, and it hurts a lot more than I know how to cope with.”

"That's perfectly understandable. I haven't been around very long, but I can understand that quite well. If something ever happened to 'Nalia... I'd probably permanently deactivate myself." Maica wistfully gazed off towards the restroom where the captain was getting ready before turning her attention back to Rita.

"But they say time heals all wounds or something, right? Plus hope springs eternal. As for coping, maybe try pretending your personal log is like a long distance letter to him for now. One of my sisters does that when her husband goes on trade missions without her and it kind of helps ease her mind a bit." Then she waved one hand in the air dismissively while rolling her eyes like it was going out of style. "Then she plows herself with some toy of the week for hours on end, so take that shit with a kilo of salt."

There was a moment of consideration of just how much to share with the green-skinned woman who was the 47th edition of her line, then the turn to crudity surprised her, and Paris blushed a bit. “I, ah, maybe I’ll give that a try, ma’am. Maica. Sorry. There’s... a little bit of him in my head. Mostly it stays quiet, he seems to just chime in when I think I don’t know something but I do, or the part of him in my head does at least. I’m worried if I start talking to it though I might go a little too crazy. That make sense?”

As she hadn’t actually eaten a good meal in quite some time, the lost navigator fished out a piece of bread and began tearing little pieces off it to nibble as they talked. It seemed with a return of food’s viability, she was going to have to watch how much she ate again. But for now she needed to soak up some wine anyway.

"I'm sorry, the only thing I know about... Katra? Is it? Is that it's some sort of mental energy or soul transferal that Vulcans can do. One thing I do know though, is that sometimes a little crazy can be a good thing." Picking up her wine glass, Maica tipped it towards Rita before downing the last of the wine in it.

That was when Enalia came out with her hair up and a fresh uniform on. Her makeup was even well done as if she was presenting herself to dignitaries. "Well? How do I look? Tribbles ate all my normal makeup so I had to replicate a kit I'm unfamiliar with."

"They ate the makeup too? That is so odd. I think we may have invented a new variant, Captain." Slowly Rita Paris rose from her seat, clasping her hands behind her back as she circled the Hera's commander. "You look beautiful, Captain Telvan. The very model of the bastion of matronly duty and honor. You do your crew proud, ma'am." Rita then flipped off a comical Benny Hill salute to break up the moment.

Posing with her left hand at the small of her back, her right at her sternum and at attention otherwise in a very formal manner, Enalia waved her right hand in a circular motion before letting it flow to the side as she gracefully bowed before Rita, her entire demeanor having shifted from Starfleet Captain to... Something else. "Thank you, my dear. Your compliments have been duly noted." Rising, she visibly relaxed and gave Rita her usual lopsided grin. "I'm just glad to give the crew a chance to visit the equivalent of a high society luxury resort, even if it's only for a week."

"For the record? Space station that the captain then refers to as her 'space fortress' which is a actually a high society luxury resort?" Paris snickered. "And you people wonder why I'm so lost in conversations so often. I look forward to it ma'am, please and thankya. Now, I need to get a shower and a uniform and report, so let's take this opportunity to get something out of the way."

At that, Rita hooked her thumbs in her waistband and slid out of her panties and leggings in a few fluid motions. As she stood back up, she reached over her back to grab the grey t-shirt and shrug it off with practiced ease. Grasping at the back of her black sports bra, she hooked it and slid it off as well, though with a bit more shimmying than the top had needed to be removed.

Naked, Paris struck a pose, coy and enticing, the bra dangling from her hooked finger. "There. Now no fights, you've both seen me naked." With a mischievous grin Paris pivoted on her heel and strode into the recently relinquished bathroom.

Standing, Maica sidled up to Enalia once Rita had headed off to get cleaned up. "Well, she's a bold one, isn't she? I like." Giving Enalia a quick kiss and a butt squeeze, she pushed the captain towards the door. "But you need to be on the bridge in a few. While she's cleaning up, I'll tidy up here then head to the forward docking hatch after to meet you.

Giving Maica a playful wink, Enalia couldn't help but admire her photonically buxom wife, pausing in the doorway just long enough to catch one last eyeful. They'd have to have some extra fun in the next week.