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Dinner With a Twist

Posted on Tue Jan 10th, 2017 @ 3:41am by Lieutenant Commander Cara O'Reilly MD & Major Storr Garlake & Paul Foster

Mission: S1E3 - Operation Adrestia
Location: USS Vindex (Deck 15)- Officer's Mess
Timeline: Mission Day 17: 1930

Cara had changed to civvies...a loose and flowy mint green blouse cut short on one side and knee length on the other and a pair of snug bootcut her office. She ran her fingers through her long hair as she checked the time. Picking up a PADD from the top of her desk, she walked out of her office, saying, "lights out...door closed." She got a few cat calls and whistles as she walked across the Main Suite, to which she waved off, laughingly. A few minutes later she walked into the Officer's Mess and looked for Storr. Seeing him, she headed over to his table and sat down across from him. "Sorry if I kept you waiting," she said, softly as she looked over her shoulder for the AI waiter.

Storr had been looking out the large, floor-to-ceiling observation windows when he noticed the door opening out of the corner of his eye. While he had been watching the coming-and-going for the last few minutes, most had been in uniform or in groups of two, three or more. This latest entrant was single, in a stunning civilian outfit and, he smiled, headed his way. He stood as the CMO approached, a chivalric artifact of his Afrikaner upbringing before the two took a seat.

"No, not at all. Might I say that you look lovely tonight..." Captain Garlake said with a smile. "Paul mentioned that he wanted to prepare some of his favorite English recipes so I told him to knock himself out, though hopefully there's not too much kidney pie. I spent a bit of time on the island myself and couldn't help but notice your accent...where are you from originally?"

"I was born in Killiney, Ireland...just southeast of Dublin," Cara said. "I lived in Dublin with my Godparents until I was 10 when my Godfather was reassigned to Starfleet HQ in San Francisco. I guess I have never completely lost my brogue."

"I only visited Dublin once while I was in Sandhurst Military Academy and really enjoyed my time there," he said, thinking that he could barely *remember* his time there thanks to the pub crawls, but that was another story. "I played rugby there before...well, before ending up in the Corp." he answered, a wistful grin teasing at the corners of his mouth. it was the best answer that he could give, as the drunk tank wasn't the most endearing or flattering of details. "So how did you end up in medicine?"

"I'm not really sure when or how I got the bug," Cara answered. "But as far back as I can remember I was bandaging my dolls, my pets, the neighbors' pets," she chuckled. "And the neighbors."

The MCO nodded to Cara as he saw Paul look his way expectantly. Storr smiled and motioned the chef over. One plate in each hand, the basket of fish and chips made the South African nearly drool and his smile widened as he looked over the plate.

"Scottish remembered!" Garlake exclaimed, the baskets placed carefully in front of the two diners.

Paul smiled and nodded. "I sure did. When you mentioned them the other week I really got a desire for them so here they are." The storied ship's cook smiled at Cara, "Doc, watch out for this one...he seems to care more for his palate than his cholesterol," he said with a wink before turning and walking away.

"You know you're just jealous of my girlish figure!" Garlake called after the retreating chef.

Once dinner was served, Cara ate, heartily, and continued the light conversation. But by the time dessert was being served she was ready to get down to business. She slid the PADD she had brought across the table and said, "for your reading leisure." She took a bite of her cheesecake and added, "it's a list of medical supplies that are hard to come by through conventional means and cannot be replicated. I hope you might be able to help the next time you board an enemy ship or during a ground maneuver."

Garlake took the PADD and examined it. While he wasn't familiar with many of the items, the doctor had helpfully added pictures of them next to their textual descriptions. He grinned in thinking that while Marines were resourceful, they usually needed a picture to get things done.

"I'd be more than happy to help, and I'll be headed..." he replied, stopping himself short before revealing his destination, remembering the close-hold nature of the mission. "out tomorrow morning and I'll be sure to keep an eye out."

---DECK 9---

Petty Officer Third Class Grindle couldn't take it anymore. Sweat soaked the sheets through his uniform and it felt like his skin would burn up the bed at any moment. And the pain...oh, the pain. Grindle reached up and tentatively touched his neck, the wound still open and weeping. He winced at the mere contact and whimpered. He had never felt like this ever in his life and he was pretty sure that death was preferable to it. Even being reprimanded for dereliction of duty. The Petty Officer reached up and touched his comm badge.

=/\= Grindle to sickbay...=/\=

A few minutes later the Petty Officer was transported from his quarters to a biobed in triage. After administering pain medication and examining Grindle, the DOD looked at the nurse assisting him and said, "get him to Isolation and enforce Isolation Protocol 5. I'll contact Dr. O'Reilly." He stepped out of the cubicle to go change into an Iso-suit and tapped his combadge.

---DECK 15---

Storr and Cara both jumped at the sound of the communicator. Garlake pressed his hand to his but it wasn't vibrating.

=/\=Sickbay to Doctor O'Reilly, I think you need to come down here and see this...and we're having trouble restraining him. =/\=

Cara rolled her eyes. "Excuse me," she said to Storr, smiling apologetically. Tapping her commbadge she asked, "restraining who?"

=^=Petty Officer Grindle. We have him in Isolation and have activated IP5.=^=

Frowning as she scooted her chair back and tossed her napkin over her half-eaten dessert, she responded by saying, "I'm on my way. Alert security." To the Captain she said, "you'll have to excuse me, Storr. Isolation Protocol 5 means we have a patient with a possible infectious organism." With no further explanation, she turned and rushed out of the mess hall.

Captain Garlake nodded as the CMO rushed out the door, perplexed and now alone. "Blerrie" he said as the MCO picked his fork at the now-empty plate and, though eyeing his former companion's dessert, determined that he was finished and splayed his napkin on the table as well. A few moments later, Paul came over personally to bus the table.

"Seems your breath has caused yet another lonely night," the Englishman said with a laugh. Storr harumphed.

"Stuff it, you Cockney bliksem" he retorted. The two looked at each other serious-as-steel for two moments before bursting into laughter. Indeed, the ship chef had already witnessed no less than three...unsuccessful dinners. "Look, none of them were my fault"

"Malarky! What about the tomato bisque you spilled all over that poor girl's dress!"

"Her name is Sarah, and it wasn't my fault that the ship came out of warp just as I was reaching for my drink. Speaking of, I need to speak to Himmel about calibrating the inertial dampeners."

"Excuses, excuses," Paul replied, taking the last of the dishes with an over pronounced shake of his head. "What you need is a good woman to settle down with, not just looking to share a warm bed for the night."

"What, are you the bartender and counselor now, too? Stick to what you're good at, Paul...though your bisque could use some work." Oddly, at the mention of the second occupation, his skin chilled and he got mild goosebumps. Was...was the link with Jaya still affecting him to such a degree? He rubbed his hands over his hairy forearms to stop the sensation though the thought still remained.

"Heresy! See if I help you out next time!"

"You know you will, just because you're jealous of my popularity with the ladies," Storr said with a broad grin. Paul sighed and shook his head again, turning to help the group of engineers that had just entered.

"You Marines give yourselves far too much credit." Storr heard the cook say as the Marine Captain exited the Officer's Mess. *Perhaps,* Storr thought, the door opening to his empty quarters opening after the short walk. *Perhaps...*


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