Breakfast for Five

[Sorehl 0]

“As such,” Sorehl concluded, “we continue enroute toward Dominion space under cloak.” The Vulcan surveyed the Alpha shift engineering officers gathered around the Situation Table. Cleared of its normal display function, the table supported several items of food and beverage in keeping with this first of their informal breakfast meetings. If the members of the team had any reservations about their approach toward potentially hostile space, their faces did not betray it.

 

Sorehl turned toward Lieutenant Commander Vex Xiang, suspended in midair beside him. “My thanks for joining our discussion this morning,” he offered. The Delpin science chief tipped his bottlenose genially. Xiang had played a prominent role in devising the probe they had affixed to the Dominion ship near the wormhole. At his behest, engineering had assembled a device based on Promellian technology. That extinct race could not be held accountable for designs using their primitive, but elegant concepts. It had taken a grueling fourteen hours to carefully glide the probe into position without alerting its target, but they were gaining good telemetry. For the moment, he observed, the lematya hung with chimes.

 

“Any other questions before we conclude?” Sorehl offered.

 

Ensign Veloras was still eyeing the raw fish that had constituted Xiang’s breakfast. Whether it was in interest or revulsion, the Vulcan could not determine. The Bajoran ensign still seemed reluctant to profer any questions, but she seemed to be working well with the staff. Sensing no questions from the others, he added, “Very well, then. Dismissed.”

 

The group gathered up their dishes and began to disperse.

 

Ensign Xavier set down his tall glass of Rigellian ginger mint iced tea. He’d had some sort of toroidal-shaped bread smeared with a fruit and dairy product. “I suppose we should make the cloaking device our top priority, Chief?” Xavier asked.

 

Sorehl nodded. “It does significantly increase our probability of surviving this mission.”

 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he added, gathering up his saucer. He headed for the replicator disposal.

 

Lieutenant Feanor paused, tray in hand. “Good meeting. Nice to hear what the department heads are talking about. That was a most interesting mush you had.”

 

The Vulcan glanced down at his empty bowl. “Tikhmeal is highly nutritional.”

 

Feanor squinted a bit. “And looks like dura-paste.”

 

Sorehl tilted his head. “I fail to see how riddling a pastry with geometric texture,” he observed, noting remnants of the lieutenant’s Belgian waffles, “renders it any more viable a meal.”

 

“No,” Feanor admitted, “I suppose you wouldn’t.”

 

Sorehl watched the lieutenant depart, moving to a control panel near the warp intermix chamber. He tossed back his head, finishing the last of his uttaberry juice, then headed for his quarters.