Cynndle yawned as he grabbed the dark roasted coffee from the replicator in the operations officer before sliding into his chair. It had been a long night of staring at his ceiling as his mind was too full of things to let him relax though the only reason he had spent it passing was due to the amount of food he ate at the Vulcan-Romulan fusion place that Lieutenant Elegy mentioned.

Quickly glancing through that handover report from the last shift he noted that there wasn’t anything of high urgency that he needed to deal with, just a couple of transports that were on their way in that needed monitoring so he double-checked that the computer had an eye on them and set it to notify him when they got closer or if their course changed. Pulling up the computer search he had started the day before he was happy to see it had finished and had some interesting results.

After spending 20 minutes reviewing the results he had narrowed it down even further, it looked like Lieutenant Elegy’s hypothetical patient may be in luck. Selecting the new results he typed up a quick message, attached them and hit send.

Lieutenant Elegy, hope you are well. The search gave us some positive hits. Over 150 actually but most of these had a low likelihood of havign the inforamtion we needed. The computer included all jobs it classified as resturant workers so we had a lot of ones that didn’t actually do any food preperation; still possible people to speak to but lower on the list. I have narrowed it down to the follow:

1 – Dechraib – A romulan chef who is well renowned for his traditional Romulan dishes following the destruction of the planet. He was from a neighbouring regions to Tel’Garch. He is registered to a refugee centre of Deck 640.

2 – Thibek – Another romulan chef whos parents were from the Tel’Garch region, though he was only a child when Romulus was destroyed. He is registered to a refugee centre on Deck 410.

3 –  Bameesa – The author of several cook books on Romulan food, her most recent book, 5 years old, had a chapter on food from the Tel’Garch region but not the dish in question. She is registered to the centre on deck 410.

4 – Velama – Her job was listed as homemaker and is from teh Tel’Garch region. I flagged her as she has volunteered in hyroponics on the station sicne she arrived and has set up a food kitchen in one of refugee centre on deck 390 making tradtional Romulan dishes.

Thought thsi woudl be a good place to start. Let me know if you need a hand. 

Lieutenant Cynndle Oin’sun

Turning to the system report that was scrolling on his screen he saved the search results and began to read the report.

It was some hours later by the time Cynndle received any sort of response from Lieutenant (JG) Elegy Weld, and that response came in the form of a hand pie.  Elegy popped up, lurking over the edge of Cynndle’s workstation with a, “Hullo,” and a request: “Can I tempt you into a nice stroll and a working lunch?”  Smiling at Cynddle brightly, Elegy reached into his small satchel, and he added, “I brought savoury hand pies,” to sweeten the deal.

Looking up from his workstation, Cynndle let out a laugh as Elegy pulled out a pie from his satchel. “I can honestly say this is a first.” Looking quickly back at the console, checking the time, he shrugged. “Yeah, I was getting a bit hungry anyways,” he said and stood.

Looking to his side he gestured to one of the ensigns at a nearby station. “Keep an eye on things. Let me know if anything comes up.” The ensign nodded and linked his workstation with Cynndles.

Turning to Elegy, Cynndle smiled; “I take it we are off to find some of those individuals the search turned up?”

Nodding in reply, Elegy said, “Precisely that,” with a pleased smile of his own.  Plucking out another hand pie, Elegy took a bite and chewed quickly, as they strode in the direction of the corridor.  “I’d feel too guilty taking away from my patient schedule to hunt down this recipe, but those sound like some awfully promising leads.”  His brow furrowing at Cynndle, Elegy added, “I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you too much.”

“Not at all. I just finished up a report on some of the station’s systems and was doing mostly routine work; the ensign will be able to handle it for a little while…..and…” he said as he held up the pie in his hand, “…I have yet to have lunch so definitely not an inconvenience.”

Taking a bit of the pie, he smiled. “These are good where did you get them? There are so many places on the station that I want to try, don’t think I will ever have the time to try them all.”

After nodding at Cynndle’s supposition, Elegy said, “I feel the same way, and it’s not like we’ll have this luxury by the time we’re on starship duty.”  The doors to the corridor parted before them and Elegy stepped through with Cynndle.  “I grabbed these from a Trill restaurant called Binomial.”

“I will have to remember that. So who shall we track down first? Dechraib, the chef?” Cynndle said before taking another bite and looking over at Elegy as they walked down the corridor.

“Yes, let’s start with Dechraib,” Elegy replied.  He took a bite from his own pie and, after some chewing, he said, “I suppose this little mission has me feeling nostalgic.  A colleague of mine in counselling has me wondering, lately, if I’ve become disconnected from my own culture…”

Cynndle nodded and thought back to the report he sent. “Sounds good, Deck 640 if I recall,” he said before taking another bite of the pie. “Cannot say I have had much Trill food but if it is anything like this then I will have to try more…As for culture, well, I get the nostalgia side and it is important to remember where you are from.”

Nodding at Cynndle’s words, Elegy took a couple more bites of his savoury pie and he chewed thoughtfully.  “That’s a part of the disconnect, I suppose,” Elegy relayed, eventually, as he kept in step with the operations officer.  “Remembering where.”

They walked down the corridor until they reached the turbolift, “Deck 640″ Cynndle said before turning to face Elegy. “What has brought on this feeling of disconnect, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Little things.  Petty things,” Elegy said with a shrug and a sheepish smile.  As he felt the turbolift car shift into motion, he crossed his arms over his chest.  “Counselor Rex, on my team, has been like a mirror in that regard.  The things she says, the choices she makes, they remind me how much I didn’t grow up on Trill.  I grew up on starships.  My parents brought with them a time capsule of Trill culture from their own youths, refracted and kaleidoscoped by their experiences in Starfleet…”

“I get that. I don’t know much about Trill culture but Heriah, ah…Ensign Rex, has a lot of things that remind her of home. Being joined adds to that maybe…” Cynndle said without thinking realizing that he had no idea if Elegy was joined.  “Sorry, I assumed, are you? Wait no never mind I shouldn’t ask that…” he said looking over at Elegy clearing trying to get his foot out of his mouth.

Smiling gently, Elegy shook his head at Cynndle’s assumption and his discomfort.  “It’s no secret,” Elegy said reassuringly, and then he blinked and said, “anymore,” as an afterthought to Trill’s secretive ways of the past century.  “I’m not joined,” Elegy admitted, “I never desired it for myself.  Living on Starfleet starships, being joined was glamorized the same way it is on the home world.  If anything, I was probably raised with more Earth propaganda.”

“I grew up on Earth but travelled a lot with my parents and siblings but I always thought Earth culture was a mixture of so many but I guess that makes it is culture…I know, knew colleagues and people in the academy who great up on ships, civilian and in Starfleet, who said similar things as you have. I guess it means you can choose the bits you like and cherish yourself, keep those around you?” Cynndle said with a shrug just as the turbolift came to a stop and the doors opened.

Striding out into the corridor, Elegy had to ask, “Are there any bits of culture you cherish more than most?”

Cynndle frowned for a moment and then shrugged as they walked down the corridor towards the refugee centre. “You know what, I am not sure. It just was what it was I guess. Grew up in a small town so never really thought about the whole cultural stuff really and what I liked. Earth is a pretty free and safe society, unlike in its past. I guess the freedom to follow my own path and the opportunities to support it. How about yourself, are there any things about Trill culture you want to reintroduce into your life?”

With another hand-pie held up to his mouth, Elegy smirked knowing at Cynndle.  “I suppose I don’t really have to think about it,” Elegy said, and he waggled the crust before he took a bite out of it.  “For the past decade, my favourite cuisines bounced across the four corners of the quadrant,” he explained, with a half-hearted chuckle, “but lately all I’m really craving are the flavours from the foods my mom would replicate in our old quarters.  I’m homesick for a home that doesn’t really exist anymore.  The USS Thunder Bay underwent a complete refit since I knew her, and I’m the only one still floating around with Starfleet.”

“Food, I get that.” Cynndle said with a knowing chuckle, “Those pies are great so if the rest of Trill cuisines is anything like these then that makes perfect sense. Binomial is going to be added into my rotation for places to visit regularly. Got any more of those by the way?”

Elegy unclipped the slimline PADD from his hip and he tapped through a couple of menu options on the interface.  “I’ll do you one better,” he replied, “and send you the reviews I’ve written.  Food is serious business.”

After another minute of walking, they reached the entrance to the refugee centre of Deck 640. The doorway was open to a large refitted cargo bay and a large number of people could be seen milling around.

Swiping the LCARS interface on his PADD, Elegy accessed the photo of Dechraib, the chef they were looking for.  “Do you see him?” Elegy asked, and he angled the display in Cynndle’s direction.

Cynndle glanced at the display, “Hmm…,” and looked up and around. “In short…No. But I figure best thing we can do is ask around. There should be a liaison officer around here somewhere.” He paused and tilted his head to the side…”Or…maybe the chief may be the one cooking the food…you smelly that?”

Scanning the room with his eyes, Elegy located the source of the savoury aroma wafting towards them.  Beside the bank of replicators, a freestanding kitchen area had been assembled, likely to give the Romulan refugees a greater sense of self-determination.  The kitchen was simple, with heating elements, free-running water and serving counters.  The Romulan directing the activity behind the counter did, indeed, resemble the file for Dechraib.

After crossing the cargo bay, Elegy navigated behind the serving counter of the kitchen space but held back so as not to get in anyone’s way.  “Jolan tru, Dechraib,” Elegy said in an introduction to the chef.  “I’m Elegy and this is Cynndle,” the counselor said, supposing their uniforms would tell Dechraib anything he especially needed to know about them.  “Could we bother you for some advice?” Elegy asked.

Dechraib looked up at Elegy, a look of confusion crossed his face before it was replaced with a smile. “Jolan tru, what can I help you with…” he squinted at the uniforms both Elegy and Cynndle were wearing, “Lieutenants?”

Nodding at Dechraib, Elegy replied, “I don’t mean for you to reveal any state secrets…” and then he tittered out a nervous laugh at his own half-hearted joke.  Quickly composing himself again, Elegy explained, “We’re looking for the recipe to Stewed Hlai’vnau to assist a refugee in the remembrance of a family member. She tells us it must be the recipe from the Rel’enak region.  The others she’s tried don’t have the right funk.”

“Hmmm,” Dechraib mused, “Stewed Hlai’vnau, from the Rel’enak region you say?” A slightly sad look crossed his face as he remembered his old homeworld. “I haven’t had that in many years or cooked it in even longer.” He said as he turned back to the food before him and stirred the pot and prepared another plate for one of the waiting Romulans. 

Cynndle stepped up and smiled. “Any chance you have what is needed to prepare it? Once prepare we could then look at programming it into the replicator.”

“Bah, replicators never do justice to the food.” He said with a laugh, “Though it would give many access to what was lost.” Dechraib said.

Elegy nodded at that sentiment even more heartily.  “When you have some time after all the meals are served,” Elegy said, “We could appreciate greatly if you could tell us what you recall of the recipe, maybe even make us a test batch.”  –Looking to Cynndle hopefully and making an assumption, now that the rate of refugees flowing into Bravo had lessened dramatically– “We can work to source any other ingredients you’ll need.”

Dechraib frowned, “ I would be happy to make it but there are some missing ingredients and I don’t think they will be found in a replicator.” He said as he dished up another plate before turning back to Elegy and Cynndle, “but, now that I think of it, by combining a few other ingredients I think you can find I can make the best and closest fish to the real thing. No one could tell the difference…”

“You’re a super-star, Dechraib,” Elegy enthused.  “Thank you kindly.”

Cynndle smiled, “That would do well. What do you need from us?”

“I’ll need to think on it, give me a couple of hours, maybe till tomorrow to get a list?” Dechraib said with a shrug.

“Thank you again,” Elegy replied with a hefty nod.  He grinned over at Cynndle, reveling in their stroke of luck.  To Dechraib, Elegy added, “We’ll see you tomorrow for sure.”

Dechraib looked at both of them and nodded, “Tomorrow.”