Deep Space Ten - Chapter 39

Free Enterprise  -  Deep Space Ten - Chapter 39




The next morning, Tyr overslept and thus strolled on to the bridge at 1051 hours. In all of his Starfleet career, Tyr had only been late twice, so he was entitled.

“Status report, Commander.” he stated as he took a grateful sip of Rakktigino from his favorite mug, that Khan handed to him.

“At our current speed, we are one hour, fifty-three minutes and ten seconds away from Deep Space Ten.” Tamara replied in precise and clipped tones.

“Reduce speed to Warp Factor two, Ensign Oliveria.” Tyr ordered.

“Reduce speed, Aye Sir.” Julie Oliveria replied as she manipulated the controls of the sleek and powerful vessel.

Everyone on board was on pins and needles about this visit. It was the first time that the Insurrection had ever been so far away from Earth and friendly Starfleet territory.

Deep Space Ten was truly in the “hinderlands”. It was no wonder that no one really wanted to come out this far. But upon a recommendation by a highly decorated and respected Admiral, they were going to be there in less than two hours. No telling what they would find.

The bridge crew watched as the station grew larger and larger in the Main Viewer. At precisely fifteen minutes before reaching their destination, they were hailed by the stations command control.

“Put it on main viewer, Ensign DeMato.” Captain Anasazi ordered. The stern visage of a Vulcan male greeted them. Tyr's past bad experience with Solon and his ilk caused him to inwardly flinch. Tamara inwardly winced because the man looked enough like Solon to be a distant cousin. The last thing she wanted to do, was to meet more "undesirable" relatives.

“Greetings and welcome to Deep Space Ten, Captain Anasazi. I am Captain Skkon. Admiral Hemingway bids you greetings and regrets not being available but she is currently indisposed. Please follow the stations telemetry signal to the starboard Dry Dock. We will see you in a few minutes.” Skkon said. The the screen turned back to the view of the station which grew larger by the second.

“Well, Ensign Oliveria, you heard the man, let's take her in. You do know how to follow a telemetry signal into a space dock, Ensign.” Tyr challenged.

“Sir, yes, Sir!” Oliveria responded, confidently as she made preparations to execute the task.


Ten minutes later Captain Tyr Anasazi, waited with Commander Tamara McPhearson, Lieutenant Commander Gilgamesh and Lieutenant. Commander Anol and Counselor Yeoman Khan, at Dorsal Access Port Number Five. They waited until the ship had snugly docked in a vacant spot and were now waiting for the all clear signal to enter the station through the port.

There was a soft chime was heard and a soft female voice said: “Access enabled.” All five sets of pressurized doors cycled back and the group stepped through a short tunnel and onto the deck of the station proper. There they were were met by a group of station representatives. From among them, Skkon stepped and put his hand up in the traditional Vulcan salute.

“Greetings again, Captain Anasazi. . . . .” Skkon began, introducing those who were with him. There was a huge male Klingon Admiral dressed in full Klingon armor, named Kavaar. A Cardassian female named Ganor. Another Human male Captain named Miranda. A huge Bajoran male named Arro Turr who was the stations security chief. Tyr in turn introduced his people.

From there they were given the cooks tour. The station was HUGE and according to Skkon even with a full compliment of Starfleet personnel and 10,000 satellite Academy students ( who stood out like sore thumbs in their maroon uniforms as they rushed hither and yon ) the station was still only one third occupied. Deep Space Ten's officials were looking for, begging for, pleading for, more occupants.

After about an hour of Skkon's monotone drone, Tyr and Khan were ready to break away and do their own exploring. Both felt like they were in a resort country or on a planet where the officials only showed them the good parts and not the slummy parts. Tyr wanted to see the slimy underbelly of the place before he could put his stamp of approval on it. Khan pulled his whiskers back with mirth because he wanted to do the same.

So off they went on their little adventure like two little boys. They marveled at the park which was on the bottom level of the two tiered promenade. The darned thing was the size of a football field! They were wending their way up from the bottom of the promenade to the top level while looking at the shops, bars and restaurants. No one knew who smelled it first, but both men caught a whiff and stopped.

“Khan. What is that?” Tyr asked of his Katay brother. In true cat fashion, Khan's was flehming. His mouth gaped slightly open as he both smelled and tasted the air. Like the super-human bloodhound he was engineered to be, Tyr did the same, but in a more sophisticated manner.

“I don't know. It smells like some kind of delicacy, and you did not have breakfast, I noticed.” Khan replied. Tyr grunted his agreement. The Rakkitigino had only served to remind him that solid food needed to follow, and soon.

Both men decided to follow their senses and see where it led them. They traveled down several corridors until they came to one corridor in particular. Both men heard the noise, clamor and shouting over the strains of Jamaican music. Further investigation brought them to the door of a very large and noisy kitchen. The selfsame one was where the wonderful smells were emanating from. The doors had been disengaged and were standing open and out of curiosity both men crept up, stood in the doorway and watched the action.

For Tyr, it took him back to when he was a young boy. Exercises, training and lessons finished he was often lonely and bored. Since he was born so late to Victoria and Barbarossa, he had no one his age to play with, so he would often wander about the family compound to find his own entertainment. One day he wound up in the kitchen.

Barbarossa had 15 wives and 35 children and thus needed servants as well as his multiple wives to help keep his family fed and intact. So the huge kitchen was the central hub of the home where food was prepared twenty-four seven, three six five.

At first, Tyr would just watch, but he was often in the way. So the head cook befriended him and put him to work washing utensils. From there he graduated to washing and peeling, chopping vegetables, washing and seasoning meats, preparing salads, then dishes. By age ten, Tyr was a full fledged cook and thus was capable of preparing meals for his family with limited assistance.

Watching the hubbub in this kitchen brought back fond memories for the Nietzshean. In fact, he was so caught up in reminiscing that he nearly did not hear the warning huff from Khan.


Now, the Admiral was helping out in that very kitchen. The name of the restaurant was The Pepper Pot and it's specialty was West Indian cooking. It was owned and run by two sisters named Michele & Nicole Ward along with a hoard of cooks and assistants.

Currently five cooks were down with the flu, three were pregnant, six had quit, drew their pay and left the station, so the sisters were short on help. Since the Admiral loved to cook and her specialty was West Indian food ( the lunchtime crowd was lined up outside the door ), so she had rolled up her sleeves ( figuratively speaking ) and was giving them a hand.

The station was expecting dignitaries from all corners of the universe and the Pepper Pot had been commissioned to serve food at the anticipated events. So naturally, things were frantic beyond belief.

Admiral Amanda Hemingway was a tall, dark complected and stately woman. One look at her and one could easily mistake her for either being obese, or a ""sizeable sister". But she was neither. She was a Promethian. A distant ancestor of Earth Africans/ African Americans who immigrated into space two years after Zephrim Cockrain met with the Vulcans. Out of food, fuel and patience, the flotilla landed on the only planet in range that could support human life and there they stayed. They named their new home planet Promethious.

Promethious was a heavy gravity planet, but the nutrient rich soil possessed properties which helped the fledgling settlers adjust to the gravity. Those properties eventually changed the DNA structure of the Humans to make them not only super-human, but gave them longevity.

Amanda was currently dressed in a pair of blue jean capri pants, trainers and an orange sleeveless shirt. She was too busy removing pans of stewed chicken from the oven to notice she had an audience. However, the ladies around her did. A very flamboyant young man who worked right next her began to sing:

“It's rainin' men, Hallelujah, Amen!” he sang as he sashayed away.

“Oh hell, Rodger has lost his mind again.” Amanda thought, as she opened the oven, reached in, grabbed the tray with oven mitt padded hands, pulled it out and closed the oven back with her hip. She swung around and was about to walk over to one of the many food preparation tables when she saw someone standing in the door way. Actually there were two people but she only saw. . . .

Well, she gave Tyr the once over from the soles of his boots to the top of his dreadlocked head. Yes, her eyes did stop at his heavily muscled, and crossed arms which by the way displayed his boneblades. But, the Admiral remembered her diplomatic manners gazed and smiled at whom she realized was the first Nietzschean male she'd ever laid eyes upon.

“Girl, gimme thot afore ye drop it!” Rodger sing-songed in his native Trindadian accent as he took the heavy and hot tray away from her and spirited it away. With a backward glance and a "wait one" signal to Tyr, Amanda followed Rodger into the inner kitchen and to one of the preparation tables. There were hundreds of packs of disposable utensils waiting to be pressed into use. She grabbed a small paper cup and a spork. She then went to one tray and scooped up a bit of peas and rice, then added a scoop of stewed chicken.

“Boy 'e really likes ye.” Rodger said. He had put down his heavy burden and was back to pester her.

“Nonsense! The man just now laid his eyes upon me.” Amanda said. A student of classic Shakesphearean theater, and on occasion she spoke like she was in one of The Bard's plays.

“Girl, don't you know? Sometimes all it takes is just one look.” Rodger lilted as he watched Amanda. “What you up to?” he asked.

“I'm gonna give him a sample an' see 'e likes it. The poor thing looks famished.” She replied as she purposely strode away.

“Awwww Sukki, Sukki!” Rodger said and smiled.


Meanwhile while Amanda was in the kitchen Khan sidled over to Tyr.

“Remember what I told you about the offer? Just go with the flow.” the Katay whispered in his Nietzschean friend's ear. Tyr's return and involuntary action was all of the fine hairs to stand up on his neck. He had no chance to respond because she was back with a tiny paper cup and a spork.

She smiled and gazed directly into Tyr's eyes as she scooped up the sample and handed it for him to taste. He took the spork from him and both it and food into his mouth.

“What do you think of that?” she asked. She really didn't have to ask. The Nietzschean's face could have been chiseled from stone, but the eyes didn't lie. They lit up like a child's on Christmas morning meaning he loved it.

“We've got about three and a half hours before all of the dignitaries arrive and the circus starts. Let's go have something to eat.” she said. Tyr looked to the left for Khan and discovered his Katay brother was gone! In all of the excitement, he didn't see or hear his friend leave.

“It looks like your friend left you to my tender mercies. But don't worry. I don't bite, contrary to what they may say.” she said, as she graced Tyr with another one of her trademark smiles. Tyr sighed and rolled his eyes. He hated when Khan did that!

“I will deal with him later. . . .” Tyr vowed to himself.

“Bye the way, my name's Amanda Vanessa Hemingway.” she said. Since she had never met a Nietzschean before she was unsure if they shook hands. “Skkon informed me that you are Captain Tyr Anasazi out of Victoria of Barbarossa of the Kodiak Pride.” she continued.

Tyr was surprised and extremely impressed. Most people did not understand nor quote his bloodline correctly. Admiral Hemingway had done it on the first try.

“Admiral, please forgive me. I did not know.” he replied. It was a half truth, Tyr could tell by the way she carried herself despite the guise of civilian clothing, she was in command. Obviously this was Tamara's friend.

“Come I'll get us a table in a quiet place, away from prying eyes and ears.” she said, as she gestured for him to follow. On their way, Amanda snagged Rodger and put in an order for their meal. Then she led the Nietzschean Captain through the giant kitchen to a small and private dining room.

They were barely seated when in came Rodger with a retinue of servers. The Admiral and Captain halted their conversation and waited while they placed dishes, glasses, silverware, before them. The platters of food and pitchers of drink were set up on a separate table next to them. The everyone left. Except Rodger, who hovered as he fiddled with this and that. Amanda rolled her eyes and gazed at Tyr.

“Rodger!” she said.

“Ma'am?” Rodger lisped.

“Thank you very much for your help, now get out.” she said.

“Well! I never!” Rodger huffed flamboyantly.

“GET OUT!” Amanda said in her command voice. In response, Rodger fled as if his hips had been set afire.

“Sorry about that but Rodger is incurably nosy when it comes to new men on the station.” she explained, as took Tyr's plate and stood.

“This dish is called peas and rice, and it is a staple for all West Indian dishes.” Amanda said as she uncovered one platter, and dished some up on the plate.

“This is Curry Goat . . .” she said, indicating the first platter. “This is Stewed Chicken, what I gave you earlier . . . . .” she continued as she indicated the next dish. “This is Stewed Fish . . . . .” she indicated with the serving spoon. “And last but not least, this is Curry Chicken. I'll give a little of each so you can try them all and select a favorite. Okay?” she said.

Then she began to expertly dish up the food. Privately Tyr was stunned to realize that yet again something Khan had predicted was coming true right before his eyes. Despite the fact that the two had known each other for many years, Tyr never quite gotten used to the Katay's predictions.

“I suppose I never will.” Tyr thought as Amanda returned to the table with their food and placed his plate before him.







AUTHOR'S NOTE:  The photo of Deep Space Ten is one of a series of photos created for me via computer by a talented lady formally known as "Trekkie Gal" on my old RPG site.   Since then ( approximately a year ago ) she has become an invisible person.  Unemployed and homeless.. . . . .