Chef's tools

Posted on Tue Aug 7th, 2018 @ 3:13pm by Lieutenant Commander Angus Murphy

Mission: A Majestic Affair
Location: Main Engineering
Timeline: MD1
2575 words - 5.2 OF Standard Post Measure

A new ship, a new start. Patrick drew in a deep breath taking in the scent of the ship. Naturally, from his perspective, there was something missing here. The smell of fresh food being prepared, as he was used to from living on a starbase for several years. And here he did see prospectives for having a small kitchen; both in his small quarters as well as, hopefully, in the mess.

At least something small to perhaps provide the captain with freshly prepared meals. He looked towards the door that loomed up before him as he approached engineering, and for a moment he hesitated. As a civilian, a lot of areas were off-limits to him, and briefly he wondered if engineering would be such a place. Then, he just stepped forward and finally, inside the hub of activity that would keep the ship going under the most direst of circumstances.

Now came the challenge....to find the chief engineer, or at least anyone who could help him with his project. "Hello?" he called out, "I'm looking for the chief engineer."

Lieutenant Murphy raised an eyebrow, pulled his head out of his conversation with Ensign Cravens about dilithium calibrations as his attention was drawn toward the other side of main engineering and the civilian who stood there. "Excuse me," he muttered to the junior engineer as he trodded off to see what the commotion was about.

"Aye, that's me," the red-haired Lieutenant said to his guest as he gave the man a quick visual scan. "Lieutenant Murphy," he introduced himself as he reached the man. "What can I do for you?"

"Patrick O'Malley," Patrick replied, "I'm the ship's chef...I need help in securing a kitchen in the mess hall and something small in my quarters. Captain's chef, to be more exact but I'll cook for anyone who wants fresh food."

"I was not informed there was going to be a kitchen in the mess," Murphy answered, brow creasing as he folded his arms together across his chest. "What's wrong with the replicators? You need an expanded library loaded into them?"

Patrick's eyes widened as if insulted by the assumption. "Everything is wrong with replicators. I don't need a library sir, all I need is fresh food. Surely this ship has a garden of some kind where vegetables can be grown?"

"Of course, the aeroponics bay on Deck 7," Murph nodded and rubbed his chin. "You'll need to talk to the science officer there and see what can be done. I--I think there's a botanist coming in on transfer in a few days, maybe they'll be able to help you with that." A kitchen, though. He wrinkled his nose. "So you're looking for a cooktop and a refrigeration unit in your quarters and a bigger system for the mess. I can add it to my list of work, but I can't guarantee it'll be done before we leave dock. We're a little busy down here. You can probably use the diplomatic suite in the meantime if you need to cater anything for Commander Saulitis. It's got a full kitchen attached and it's just down the hall from her dining room and quarters."

"Thank you." Patrick smiled gratefully. "Just small for my own quarters will do, and I don't need a whole lot of room, just enough in the mess to cook people a decent meal." He grinned. "Surely sir, you do prefer real food over replicated? Once you've had real food, trust me you'll not want replicated again."

"Eh," Murph shrugged. "I don't know. If I'm being honest with myself, I'm probably not patient enough to wash, prep, and wait for real food to cook. The replicators are fine. I have no complaints, Mister O'Malley."

"Just call me Pat, or Paddy," the chef replied with a small smile, "and food makes people happy, especially real food. It made my husband happy when he was down, and now all I want to do is make people feel happy. I used to do so on a starbase, and now I'll try to do it here."

"Alright, alright," Murph threw up his hands as though he were giving in, but he was just being dramatic and a little funny. "I'll see what I can do, alright? Give me a few days."

"As long as you need sir, I understand it's no priority. I'll use the room you just said for now." His smile widened a little. "Tell you what...I'll make you anything you want, and I'll bring it to you here. You'll see I'm right." He stepped back a little, as if sizing him up. "What would you like to have?"

"I'll think about it," Murphy smirked and then he shook his head, "Don't reward me before the job's done, though, or I might never finish. Gotta learn a thing or two about keeping people motivated, Pat."

"I'll feed you tidbits to motivate you towards the whole meal," Patrick laughed, "but it's a deal...you get me a kitchen and I'll get you a full meal as payment."

----

Two days later, Lieutenant Murphy chimed the chef's quarters, a tool bag slung across his body.

"That's a bit sooner than expected," Patrick smiled as he opened the door and gestured for the man to come inside. The room was still sparsely furnished though there was a clear sign of a memorial set up in a corner. A black-edged photograph along with a small candle. "Where do you think it'll fit best?"

"Well, fortunately or not, these things come as a module," Murphy had managed to say before he took in the photograph and candle and recognized it for what it was. It chilled him in a way he wasn't entirely prepared for. It reminded him of his own situation. No matter how much he tried to bury it, the emotions always found a way out. He hated it and it made him sick. "I'm sorry for your loss," he found himself saying automatically, like so many people had said to him over the last six months. He hated those words, too. "I'm sorry, I should come back later, I think."

"Sir?" Patrick queried, "don't be sorry. He died while doing what he loved to do. He died doing his job, and I'm at peace with it now." He could see something had somehow upset the man, even if he couldn't quite guess as to what. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he started to say, but then shook his head to the contrary. "No... not at all alright," he admitted slowly. "How... how long has it been?" he then asked, motioning to the memorial.

"A few months. I wandered for a while across the station until I decided I needed to pick up the pieces of my life again. Once I decided that, I decided I needed to leave and start over." He studied his guest for a little while longer. "You've lost someone too, haven't you?" he asked softly.

Murphy nodded. He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to compare pain and stories. He just wanted to bury the emotion, or drown it. Drowning it had been a nightly ritual since he arrived on Majestic. That of course was not the recommendation of the counselors, though. "Six months and... I think about him all the time still. I can't go anywhere without seeing him or being reminded of him. This was supposed to be a fresh start."

"Then it will be," Patrick answered, "I won't ask, because I know how you feel. But if you want to talk, just come find me." He maneuvred around his quarters, blocking the line of sight to the photo. "We both have jobs to do," he added gently, "perhaps we should get to it, and install the kitchen?" He smiled encouragingly. "Then I can make you that meal I promised."

"Yeah," Murph nodded decidedly. "We do have jobs to do..." He took a deep, clearing sigh and looked back at the wall with the replicator. "So, like I think I started to say, this is uh... well, this whole wall gets replaced in this upgrade. It comes as one big module. So, like everything on that shelf over there or anything in the storage that you want to keep, will need to be moved out."

"I'll move it right away," Patrick answered, "and there's nothing in the replicator that I want to keep. I've used it to replicate clothes but I'm sure I can do that anywhere else on the ship, even the holodeck if I need to right? Unless I get an industrial replicator for clothes and other necessities to go with the kitchen?" He wasn't entirely sure because back on his prior assignment he had both, though he wasn't going to be picky. If losing the replicator meant having decent food, it was worth it.

Murphy grinned. "I understand. The new wall module still has a replicator, it's just got less storage, really. If you find you're missing the storage for all your clothes, then I'm sure we can add some more in another wall section. I'm not going to leave you high and dry. Do you need some help moving stuff? I got arms and I got no where to be."

"I havent got much to move," Patrick admitted, "I've never owned much and I left most of my belongings behind a I couldn't take them." He nodded over to one shelf with books. "If you can move th books to the table? Then I'lll grab the photos." Not that there were a whole many of them anyway. "Have you always wanted to be an engineer?" he asked, just to make some conversation.

"I suppose so," Murphy answered as he moved books from the shelf and made a small stack on the table. "I used to take things apart-- not because they were broken, but just because I wanted to see what was inside. My mother used to say she loved it, but I think she was scared I wouldn't get them back together the same way. That happened a few times. We had this little hovering room vacuuming robot... when I got it back together, it expelled dust instead of sucking it in," he chuckled and shook his head. "It just pushed the dust around."

"Connected something the wrong way around?" Patrick chuckled as they worked to clear the area. "I've always liked cooking. So I turned my hobby into my profession. I find it relaxing, and it makes me happy. Especially if I can make others feel better with just a bit to eat."

Murphy surveyed the remaining wall space as Patrick talked, making sure it was cleared of personal belongings before stooping down to remove a panel under the replicator. "It makes sense. If you can make a living at what you like to do... and if you're good at it." He had to shimmy half way in, so that his legs were still sticking out of the access, and he proceeded to disconnect the power relays from their junction points inside the floor before shimmying back out.

"I suppose you got to be quite agile for your job," Patrick mused, "and yes I can make do. I earn my keep mostly but just cooking for people. At my last job of course I got paid and I think here I will be too in some way, but I don't mind not getting paid. I have a replicator, I get to see new places and I get to learn new food customs. What more would I want, right?" He crouched down to sit next to him. "Anything I can help you with, or would I just be in your way?"

"Oh. Well, there's just the heavy lifting part and that's what we have the transporters for, and then I'll make the new connections and then I'll be out of your hair," Murph found himself smiling. His tone changed though, when he tapped his commbadge. All business. "Murphy to Cravens. Are you set to switch out the wall module we talked about?"

=^= Is this the one for the mess hall? I don't think it's been replicated yet." =^=

"No, we're not doing that one until tomorrow," Murphy said. "It's the quarters. The Triple-E variant wall replicator module." He paused a moment. "It's right there in the system. It's sitting on the replicator transporter pad and ready to go."

There was a long delay before the response this time. =^= "Oh. Got it. Give me thirty seconds." =^=

Murph gave an apologetic shrug to Pat.

Patrick just smiled, his expression one of excitement. "I'll still owe you that meal regardless, and I'll bring it out to you whenever you want to have it. At least, I'm assuming you're the kind that generally eats in your office because you forget to go out and eat in the first place?"

"Yeah... we'll see," Murph replied.

=^= "He's making us dinner?" =^=

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Not you. How's that transport going? My grandmother could get a lock faster than you."

=^= "Energizing now." =^=

A good portion of the wall dematerialized, leaving a bare bulkhead. Then a second later, the new wall unit materialized into place.

"Got it. We're good," Murphy said as he cut the comm with a tap.

Awed, Patrick ran his hand across the surface of the new unit. "I'll happily make him dinner too but the offer was for you," he clarified, turning towards the chief engineer. "How long until I can use it?"

"A few minutes, I suppose. Maybe ten?" Murph answered, flushing a bit red. He knelt down and removed a panel in the same location on the wall and crawled halfway inside to make the connections. "Water. Greywater. Power. Data..." he checked off aloud as he worked, wrangling each connection into place. "The designers make it pretty easy. Just don't clog up the drain because I charge extra for house calls," he said as he slid back and replaced the panel. He clapped his hands once and pronounced the job, "Done."

The Irish chef beamed up at him. "Oh I'll pay you in food," he chuckled, "as promised. But trust me I know how to use these and I've never clogged up anything. So when would you like your ah...first payment?" He was pretty serious about repaying a favour with a favour, and he felt he would make someone happy this way.

"Listen, Pat," Murph held up a hand and waved the notion away. "I appreciate the gesture. I just don't think it's a good time right now for.. eating... and you know.. food. I'm really busy with getting the ship ready and I'm sure the Commander will be asking a lot of you soon. So, don't worry about it. Some time, maybe. It's alright." He picked up his tool bag from the ground and then started to turn away toward the door. "The mess hall is on track, too. Maybe tomorrow."

"I didn't mean right now...." Pat smiled uncertainly, "anytime, you got to eat sometime.". He wondered if perhaps he was being misunderstood. "It's just food... it's what I do, I feed people."

Murphy gave a nod that he understood. "Alright. Well. See you around then, Chef." He hoisted the toolbag higher on his shoulder and headed out.

---

Lieutenant Murphy
Chief Engineer
USS Majestic

Patrick O'Malley
Ship's Chef
USS Majestic
pnpc Lhaes

 

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