A Side of Honey

[Sean Howard 0]

Sean couldn’t count how many times he had assembled the various bits and pieces needed for a space station since he’d been old enough and proved himself to his mother. Of course those were usually small civilian stations and not a brand-spanking-new Starfleet facility, but other than the quality of the equipment there wasn’t much difference.

 

He wasn’t sure how the Chief had managed to find room for the stuff, let alone room to work, but the Trill had somehow managed. Space was still very tight, but if you can work in a jefferies tube you don’t need a sports arena to put something together. By the end of shift even Sean’s very young body would be cramping and stiff, but it’s the last fifth of the 24th Century, the replicator could spit out some non-prescription medication that would take care of it well enough.

 

Skinned body parts were another story, but between his custom-fit gloves and experience he’d avoided any more than a minor nick so far. Grime, on the other hand, was not something he could avoid and he looked more like a 20th Century coal miner than he’d care for. It would take every trick the sonic showers were capable of to return him to his usual pristine state.

 

Sliding out from underneath the environmental processing unit that he’d been working on for the last hour, he used the least grimy spot on the sleeve of his work garments to wipe a combination of sweat and lubricant off his forehead. A quick check of the time showed he was well past lunch time, but in his current state there was no way the tender would let him anywhere near the main lounge, nor did he want to sully the nearest junior officer’s lounge because he didn’t want to take the time to clean it.

 

Instead he called down to the mess, politely explained his conundrum, and after a few moments someone that would be coming on duty in this area was charged with the heady task of delivering Sean’s lunch on the way through. That was a trick he’d learned from his father, who to counter Deirdre’s direct and often impolitic means, had often preached using honey rather than vinegar in the ways of interpersonal conduct.

 

Never one to dawdle, Sean used the first part of the waiting time to prepare his next set of tools and parts he would need after lunch. After a few moments everything he needed was neatly lined up right next to where he’d be resuming work on the EPU. Satisfied, he then wandered over to the cleanup station and spent a good five minutes using the various options available to get his hands and lower face ready to eat so that he wouldn’t poison himself.

 

With that done he set up a pair of crates away from the various work areas where he could sit and eat, and with impeccable timing the crewman came in with his lunch. Gratefully accepting it, he promised the fellow he’d personally see to the next repair problem the man may encounter either on duty or personally, which was an unexpected bonus to the yeoman, who went away a lot happier than he entered.

 

Ironically, Sean noticed upon setting into his meal, the fried chicken breast, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans came with a biscuit with three generous packets of honey. “Dad’s never wrong,” Sean said before tearing into the meat. “Except of course when mom says she’s right,” he thought, amused.