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"Chocophoria"
Rating: PG-13 I made Chef from Italy, so Italian words: Signorina (Miss), pasticceria di cioccolato (chocolate shop/chocolatier), capitano (captain, obviously), Elisabetta is the Italian name for Elizabeth (Cutler), "Per mio fe"--ranges from a mild "Oh my God!" to "Holy #!#!" depending on the context and tone of voice. You won't blame Chef for using this one. Please read and review! Thanks! Two “And then the designer gave me this—ta-da! Whaddaya think?” Trip whipped out a tunic made of thin satin-like material, made up of bright squares and decorated with gold, green, silver, and scarlet thread. The sleeves were folded up to the elbows. A silver belt came across the hips, anchored with a blue jewel. The matching balloon pants tied at the ankles with wide satin straps. Silence fell in the shuttlepod. Even Porthos was quiet and Chef turned an interesting shade of red. Captain Archer's jaw actually dropped a few millimeters before he thought to close it. Hoshi blinked and glanced at Malcolm, whose eyes were in serious danger of falling into the back of his head. Liz Cutler clapped both hands over her mouth as her shoulder shook with silent laughter. She sat way in the back, so Trip didn't see her struggle to maintain some kind of decorum. "Per mio fe," Chef managed to stammer out. “Um...it’s striking, Trip,” Hoshi said, tilting her head as the overhead lights flashed on the costume. Blinding was the nicest adjective she could think of, but she tried to be the soul of discretion. “So she did this in—“ “—less than an hour in her shop. She said she wanted to improve on the basic design of my shirt, give it ‘a native flair’.” Trip’s grin was enough to rival Travis Mayweather’s on a good day. “I think she did a pretty good job, puttin’ her own spin on it. One of a kind, she told me, the genuine original article. They’re pretty big on producing a unique product.” “Thank God,” Malcolm muttered. Trip started to glare at him, when Hoshi cut in, “They believe each creation has its own soul, and to duplicate it is the worst of sins. So once they make—a shirt like this, for example—they never use the exact color scheme or the exact pattern for a second one.” Chef grinned and patted the shopping basket under his arm. “The Dnayun are true artists, Hoshi, in their chosen professions. Their recipes are extraordinary and complex, and involve lists of ingredients. The minister’s cooks were eager to share their database with me.” “Anything you’re gonna try for dinner, Chef?” Trip asked. “Perhaps...once I sort out the conversion equivalents and figure out just what some of the terminology means. And for that—“ he bowed at Hoshi—“I would ask your assistance, Signorina Hoshi. I wouldn’t want to make a mistake and cause undue stress on the crew.” Malcolm sighed and Trip turned scarlet, but Hoshi answered, “Of course, Chef. We want to make sure we don’t have any weird outbreaks on the ship.” “Or outbreaks of songs,” Malcolm muttered again. “I heard that,” Trip said under his breath. Captain Archer fought against laughter, but a snort escaped him, causing Trip to glare at him. It was so hilarious that Jon couldn’t hold back and started laughing. It caught like wildfire and soon the entire shuttlepod rocked with mirth. Trip couldn’t keep the stern glare; his eyes softened, then he laughed along. “And Signorina Hoshi and Signorina Elisabetta found this pasticceria de ciocolatto that is the gem of the quadrant, Capitano,” added Chef. “The Master Baker spent the better part of two hours showing me the process of cooking the mokka. The completed product is heavenly.” “Mokka, eh?” Jon said with a glance at Hoshi. “Leave it to Hoshi to find chocolate on an alien planet. She’s got some kind of internal radar for it.” She shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a necessity in the universe.” “Maybe we can rig up something in the sensor array to detect the faintest trace of the stuff,” Trip mused. “It might be a lifesaver one day. Whaddaya think, Malcolm?” The Armory Officer rolled his eyes. “I can just see it now. ‘Lieutenant Commander, we need to realign the chocolate-detection sensor array. It’s throwing off the targeting sensors.’ Perhaps we can pack the torpedoes with a healthy dose of Cadbury Dark.” “Hey, that’s a waste of good chocolate!” Hoshi protested, punching him lightly on the arm. He smirked in reply. “You gonna share, then, Chef?” Trip asked. Chef grinned. “I have a special menu in mind, Commander Tucker.” “Can’t wait for it. I think it’ll be great,” Liz Cutler piped up from the back. “I know Phlox is gonna appreciate it. Denobula has something like chocolate and I know he indulges now and then. Vulcans don’t care for chocolate, though. I think it’s too sweet for them. T’Pol wouldn’t enjoy it very much.” Malcolm shook his head. “Pity.” “More for us then,” Trip said cheerfully. “Trip, be nice,” Jon warned with a grin. The communications channel beeped, and he touched it. “Archer.” “We’ve got you on final approach, Captain,” came Travis’s voice. “Did you have a good time on Dnayu, sir?” “I certainly did, Lieutenant,” Archer replied heartily. “I heard a certain helmsman won first prize in the Dnayu Hotsled Races.” They all could feel Travis’s blush over the comm channel. “Yeah, it was quite a ride, sir, but I think I’ll settle for something a little less thrilling for a while.” “You can tell us all about it later, Travis.” “Aye, sir. Opening shuttle bay doors. Welcome back.” It took twenty minutes for Archer to land the shuttlepod and for the bay to repressurize. When the landing deck officer gave the all-clear, the crew went their separate ways. Malcolm headed for the Armory, Trip for Engineering, Archer to the Bridge, and Chef to the Galley, leaving Hoshi and Liz. As Hoshi waited for Liz to climb down from the shuttlepod with her packages, she noticed something glimmering in the bright lights of the shuttle deck. “What’s this?” she asked aloud and picked up the thin crystalline rectangle. It had Dnayun script on it and a circular disk wrapped in maroon foil in the corner. Hoshi sniffed and caught the deep aroma of mokka from the disk. “You find something, Hoshi?” Liz asked. “It’s a calling card of some sort,” Hoshi answered, her eyes on the characters. “A courtesan’s name, and a set of numbers.” “A com-code?” “I don’t think so. It isn’t in the right format for that. Maybe directions?” Liz snorted. “You mean to tell me one of the guys dropped it?” “Had to be. I wonder who it was.” Hoshi frowned at the thought of Malcolm having a courtesan card, but she shook her head. It’s not like you have a permanent hold on the man. He’s a good friend, that’s all. It’s not like you’re married to him or anything. But a little voice in her head wailed, Yeah, but— “I bet it’s Trip’s. He’s always had a way with the ladies. I mean, he got that fabric artisan to make him that horrid-looking tunic in less than an hour.” Liz put a hand on her shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t see Malcolm or the captain carrying that around. And Chef? Can you imagine a courtesan giving him one of those? He really had to whip up one hell of a meal for her.” “Filled with aphrodisiacs and spices,” Hoshi said with an evil grin. “And a hefty slice of mokka.” Liz grinned back. “Uh-oh. Why do I have the feeling you’ve got some kind of naughty idea?” Hoshi’s smile just widened a fraction, but she didn’t say anything else. |
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