2This has been written for fun and for free, with no claim to characters or situations.
Chef's Log
So I'm in deep space. Never thought dropping out of OCS and going to culinary school would have me end up out in the black. Me and the Captain go way back. I heard he pulled a lot of strings to even be able to ask me to go. I figured... why not? I occasionally hear the others keeping their own logs. I guess it might be useful to have around some day. So here we are.
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This is supposed to be a shake down tour. We jumped a few weeks early, and we're only planning to be gone 8 days. So I can image how long this is gonna go. Seems I'm not alone. One of the crewmen got everyone humming or singing the opening song from a 20th century show called Gillian's Island: "a three hour tour..." he happened to have a few episodes in his personal. Now everyone's chipping in data transfer time to have the series sent to us over subspace.
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Rostov... that guy. I swear he was born to find the most inconvenient time to create the maximum amount of havoc and still somehow have minimal responsibility for cleaning it up. It's like magic or something. Last time it was the dish washing machine. Now I've got to find someone to clean and fix the bread machines and figure out if the stasis boxes labeled glue actually hold yeast, or if we just left space dock with a bunch of glue and no yeast. How does a yeast label on get on a box of glue anyway? ... this was a prank... deliberate... war I tell you... war! If I only I knew who the enemy was.
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Damn I hate when I'm right. Why turn around, and actually finish taking on supplies? Guns? Who needs those? Lets just keep going. Best idea ever.
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The kitchen here is pretty much the same as any other vessel I've served on. Resupply is going to be non existent. At least nothing human. 3 different shifts of humanities finest... although gamma isn't a full shift. More just a glorified night watch. And it's not just humans either. We have of course the resident Denobulan and the Vulcan. He's easy. She's vegetarian. Well.. I say he's easy. Denobulan's aren't picky eaters. But if I want to make something for him from Denobula... I'm reminded of that old saying "just because you can do something, doesn't mean you should". At least when we cook for the sub commander, I know other folks will eat it.
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So I said to him "Captain, it looks like I got left off of the R&R rotation. Unless you want me to start serving gruel and soggy eggs for breakfast, I think I need some down time." Of course he graciously volunteered his slot. Who does that man think he's kidding? He just wants some alone time with The Princess of Logic. Not my cup of tea but She might actually be a good match for him... if, you know, she returned his feelings; I'm thinking he doesn't have a chance in hell. I am not ashamed to say that I took the spot anyway. I heard good things about Risa.
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Damn I nailed that tortellini. And that's not easy to do when you're cooking for 83. I should ask for a raise. Or maybe a raise and a promotion. Gotta get high enough for it to matter though. There's no reason to care until you break ensign. At least then you get your own room. I'm tired of hearing Jonesy snoring.
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So uh I got a personal and confidential sub space message from Risa. I was kinda thinking she might message cause she missed getting some of Chefs extra spices... and then maybe I was wondering if I left a bun in the oven. No such luck. Apparently not all STI's are picked off by Decon, if she's telling the truth... I'm about to have an uncomfortable conversation with Phlox either way. Normally I'd be cool with it, but that guy is a little too laid back when it comes to sex. TMI for days. Days! On the upside at least it's treatable, or at least she said it is. Still worth it. Ah... Risa.
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Jon's been ordering plomeek soup again. I wonder what he's thinking... poor guy.
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I swear, if I find out who's been leaving the crust from my pies... there's gonna be hell to pay. I'm gonna start making the pies with extra thick crust and see who reacts. That or I need to bribe Malcolm for access to the mess hall security feed, just for a night or two. Time to brush up on my crumpet recipes. The man is a walking caricature and I am not ashamed to take advantage of that fact.
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Turns out Kale is like a universal constant. The coloring might be a little different... maybe the leaves. But every class M planet we've visited has someone from Science bringing me yet another version of Kale. It looks the same, tastes the same. I'm sure it's a sign of something. I'm just not sure what.
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You know I've been thinking back about that glue thing. First I was going to confront Rostov, but really no ones that stupid right? Somebody set him up. I think I've narrowed it down to Crewman Muller or maybe Daniels. Daniels is a bit of an odd one. I bet he was home schooled. So probably Muller then. I bet Daniels doesn't have a mean bone in his body.
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I know he's going to hate me some day but I started a Captain and T'Pol betting pool. Betting has been a standard of shipboard tradition since the time of my father's father's. How else you gonna pass the time? Can only exercise so much. Read so much. I'm kinda surprised no one else started pools. So I took it upon myself... a noble service to the crew... with of course a 1% management fee. Not like I need the money. I'll end up buying extra materials to make goodies on the next supply run. Everybody wins. Well 'cept maybe poor Jon.
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Jonathan Archer is an amazing Captain and I sincerely hope my prank comments have not unduly affected him in any way shape or form. I am proud to serve on the first warp 5 vessel and proud to have Jonathan Archer as the Captain.
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So I found out today that I've been entering my logs as Chef... as in... not Personal logs... as in ... part of the permanent ships record, duly logged and transmitted back to Starfleet every 72 hours. This is the first private log I've recorded. Not like I'm all that worried about my career. I do worry about reflecting poorly on Jon. Hopefully my comments don't bubble up past whichever poor sap has to review the logs from a glorified cook. *sigh*
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I got a visit from The Princess today. Turns out she and Ensign Sato have become fast friends. Friends that share things. Apparently like my accidentally public logs. It's a good thing I'm personally responsible for making sure everyone gets fed, or I think someone might have keel hauled me... without the space suit.
So yeah, the cats out of the bag. I've had a decent conversational relationship with her so it wasn't too hard to just bluff my way through. It's a bit rough when the other party has a stone cold poker face, but I just kept on talking. She seemed to be taking the view that Hoshi described... 'boys being boys' and maybe gave it the broader 'humans doing stupid human things' and wrote the whole thing off. I dunno. I tried to talk Jon up as much as possible. I'm pretty sure a human female would have picked up on it easily. She did ask what the pool was up to... maybe he's got a chance after all. I hope so.. for my sake.
One odd thing came out of it. She said in the most amazingly calm, polite, and logical way possible that I would regret my very existence if too many people started calling her The Princess of Logic, or even just Princess. She listed over a dozen ways she could make my life unpleasant and would escalate as needed. Got some work to do on that front. I happen to like my existence.
One down who knows how many more to go...
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It's been too quiet, like the calm before a storm.
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Life moves pretty fast. Rostov won the pool. Crewman Muller is on restricted duty. I'm recording this from my new cabin. Apparently Jon thought that the Head Chef of a Starship should have had his own cabin from the get go. He gave me a wink when he gave me the news. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.
Chefs log... out.