"Would you like cheese with that?"

[Rachel E Garrett 0]

“Would you like cheese with that?”

A Joint Log by Scott Coleridge and Rachel Garrett

 

Engineering officer Ltjg Scott Coleridge sidestepped Rachel as she bolted into the turbolift from the CT. A glance at Damian Porter behind the OPS console had brought an angry outburst. Rachel’s fuming seemed to radiate in all directions – too bad it couldn’t be harnessed; talk about an energy source. Scott decided he would stay put with his mouth shut.

 

For a long time after the lift doors closed Rachel stood glaring at the rear wall, arms crossed around her padd, jaw clenched. She wasn’t gonna say anything; she’d already done enough damage. Finally she managed, “Sorry. It’s not you.”

 

“Right,” said Scott, giving his uniform a tug. “Good. Because that would be a new record for me.”

 

Rachel took a few deep breaths to get herself under control. It didn’t work.

 

“Um ... I got lost,” Scott continued apprehensively, probably trying to ease the tension. “In the diplomatic wing. Shining things. I was under the impression I was forgetting to do something, but I can't remember what.”

 

At that point the comm blared. “Porter to Garrett. I am not a bad friend!” A long pause ensued, followed by, “Porter out.”

 

Rachel gave a low growl and ran a hand through her tangled hair. “Lost. Ok. I'm usually lost, but… you think you’re lost? We're supposed to move the station. Sometime. Somewhere.” She leaned against the lift wall and finally raised her eyes to look at Scott. “I think everyone on this station is lost but us.”

 

“You mean everyone on the station isn't lost except us, eh?” Scott chuckled a bit.

 

“Other way around.” When Scott resumed his defensive posture she continued, in a slightly apologetic vein, punctuating her rant with occasional gestures. “Sorry... I'm just… it's just… I dunno. All these people are weird.”

 

“Well of course they're weird. Everyone needs to be weird to survive. It's a weird, weird universe out there.”

 

Unabashed, Rachel continued. “First they want this then they want that, then you ask a question and they look at you like you’re supposed to know the answer and you can’t even find the question! And now they want to move the station?” She waved her arms in frustration and the padd she had been holding clattered to the deck. “It's like ... helloooooo ....it's a station. They call it that for a reason. It’s supposed to be stationary.”

 

“I feel the same way,” said Scott, shaking his head. "Moving the station is ... it's a total oxymoron. If it were up to me, I'd just give it to the Cardassians and hop on the next transport out of here. Unfortunately, it isn't up to us. It's up to ... him.”

 

Apparently Scott was into he-who-must-not-be-named syndrome, too.

 

Rachel went on as though she hadn’t heard him – which she didn’t. She threw her hands up in disgust. “What's with these people, anyway? And to think the fate of the Federation rests here.” After a long pause she snatched the padd from the floor and looked up at Scott. “Sorry. I'm going on and on and not even listening to you. I need to shut up.”

 

“They're bureaucrats,” he continued. “They don't understand that moving a station is an incredibly bad idea. So our job is to follow orders while also trying to figure out how we won't be blamed if things go wrong.”

 

Good point. CYA.

 

“Luckily, we seem to both be pretty talented. We have a talent for doing ... improbable things. I mean, I've pulled off time travel already. How much harder can spatial travel be? Let's just build a wormhole and send the station through that!”

 

Rachel perked up. “Right! Exactly what I was thinking. A transwarp conduit. And plunk the stupid station right in the middle of the galaxy where they can duke it out and not hurt anyone! Where they shout and no one hears. Heck, in space no one hears you shout, anyway.”

 

“Think of the parking fine that'd get 'em!”

 

“Yeah.” Her face lit up with an impish grin.

 

"Um ... Rachel?" Scott asked. He looked around the stationary turbolift. "Were you planning on sending the turbolift somewhere, or are we just going to stand here for the rest of our shift?”

 

Gees. In her frustration she hadn’t even noticed. “Oh. Right. Uh...I’m not sure. We're supposed to be… in engineering. I think that's what His Highness said. Yeah. Main engineering."

 

Scott sniggered. "His Highness. I like it.”

 

As the lift moved, Scott continued, “You know, I've always wondered why they call it main engineering. Have you, in all your time here, ever seen a secondary engineering? Nooooooo.”

 

Rachel had to agree. Upon exiting the lift she tossed her scuffed-up padd onto a counter, then reflexively checked to see if the padd was still in one piece. Good thing they made ‘em tough. They knew about engineers, especially engineers like Rachel. She was pretty tough on everything.

 

"I was pretty tough on Porter,” she said, making a beeline to the cooler for a drink. For some reason they had a cooler in engineering. It had something to do with Drankum wanting to up his profits.

 

“You still seem agitated. Maybe after we figure out this whole station-moving concept, you should take a vacation.”

 

Rachel nodded, plunking herself into a chair and sprawling out, exhausted. “Yeah. But I need to apologize or something.” She popped the lid on her drink without checking the label and took a long pull, then stopped in disgust. What the heck? Prune juice? Blech. She leaned forward, lobbed the container into the recycler and continued. “But gees, he was so….”

 

“I'm sure he'll understand. Send him a fruit basket if you want.”

 

“Fruit basket. Right.”

 

"Yes. And no. I mean, apologies are good, but you can't eat them. Fruit is tasty. I know that if I ever got an apology, I wouldn't turn down free fruit.”

 

Okay. Something else she never learned when she missed the social graces class. “So, you gotta eat something with an apology?” Maybe he was joking.

 

“Bagels are nice too.” He was totally serious.

 

“This is getting expensive.”

 

“It’s the thought that counts.”

 

“And I suppose you need cream cheese with the bagels?”

 

Scott shrugged. Yeah, it was gonna be expensive. Rachel needed to learn to keep her mouth shut.