Om Nom Nom-nivore

Posted on Sat Jun 21st, 2025 @ 12:02pm by Lieutenant JG Elen Rell & Lieutenant Commander Drevas

2,817 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Mess Hall

Nobody paid any attention to the frankly excessive pile of seaweed and chashu that sat atop Drevas' bowl of udon noodle soup as he carried it from the replicator to his chosen seat. That's the beauty of living on Federation starships - when everybody is likely to order something alien and weird-looking to eat, nothing is weird and alien-looking enough not to eat. Not even when it's about one and a half times the usual portion and threatening to slide off the top of the bowl.

Besides, if you had the option to pile a theoretically unlimited number of your favorite topping on your favorite food, you might too.

Either way, the Kelpien settled himself at an empty table and tucked in with a pair of chopsticks and a spoon made in the Asian style. Where had he learned to use these tools, you ask? That's a mystery for another day.

Elen stood in front of the replicator, finger tapping rapidly against the frame as her mind went through all the options she could think of that weren’t what she wanted but were also somehow...not not what she wanted. "Okay, I need something that’s food but also not a meal," she muttered. "Handheld. No utensils. Energy-dense. Probably regret later. Perfect." And then she told the replicator exactly what she wanted. The result was a plate with, at a glance, a wrapped up flatbread barely holding together. There were also napkins. She knew herself. It could get messy. The result was a spiced Bajoran frybread wrap stuffed with roasted root vegetables, tangy Earth-style pickles, and something that might’ve been cheese but definitely wasn’t. Hot, potentially messy, and she could it down her throat in ten minutes if the warp core decided to get feisty.

She turned to find a seat, and that’s when she saw it.

The udon. Rather, the mountainous, architectural wonder that was Drevas’ udon. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the topping tower barely clinging to structural integrity. She veered immediately off course, food in hand. Sliding into the seat across from him like she’d planned it all along, like she had a dinner invitation, she grinned, eyes fixed on the soup like it had personally issued her a challenge. “Now that is a structural engineering marvel,” she said, placing her plate down in front of her. So far untouched. A napkin threatened to fall off the table, kept in place by pure hance of her elbow on it. “Please tell me you’re conducting some kind of culinary stress test. Because if that pile holds together past the halfway point, I’m submitting a report to Science.”

With that she took bite of her chaotic wrap, then gestured toward the bowl. She swallowed before asking, “I mean, was the replicator just feeling generous, or did you hack it for maximum deliciousness?”

No hesitation. No invitation. Just friendly chaos and the genuine awe of someone who could and would get into a five-minute tangent about food stability under dynamic load conditions.

Drevas' chopsticks paused midair, and he glanced up from his meal at the person who had, by all accounts, simply poofed into existence in front of him. The young lieutenant who'd very bravely come to his hub just a few days ago. He recognised her by the lilt that framed her enunciation - and the way words tumbled out of her mouth at speed. This time, he was somewhat relieved to hear that she wasn't speaking faster than the speed of her thoughts. Probably.

"Ah. Lieutenant Rell. No, this is the furthest thing from a 'culinary stress test', or a 'hack', as you put it. This is just dinner, structured by the replicator with the request I gave it." He corrected her, gently but with an amused smile, as he resumed his meal, plucking chunks of meat and seaweed off the pile with surprising dexterity.

"You are certainly welcome to write whatever reports you'd like about it, however. I take no issue with that." He added.

Elen let out a small huff of a laugh, half amused, half caught in the act of trying not to drip sauce onto her uniform. "Well, clearly your replicator has better discipline than mine. Mine just sort of sighed at me and gave me what I think is technically food-based optimism wrapped in carbohydrate." She held up the wrap in demonstration... it sagged slightly under its own ambition, and carefully rotated it for another bite, trying very hard not to let the pickles fall out.

Swallowing, she added with a grin. “I mean, you're just... eating it. Like a normal person. I'm halfway into a fight for structural integrity and questioning my life choices. Respect.” She dabbed her fingers quickly with a napkin and leaned in slightly, conspiratorially. “And for the record...if I do write a report, I’m calling it ‘Evaluating Replicator Output Parameters in Response to User Input: A Case Study in Overconfidence and Udon.’ I think Starfleet Science would love it. Real edge-of-the-bowl kind of stuff.” She took another bite, paused, then mumbled through it with raised brows, “Unless you wanna co-author?”

"Or, alternatively, you could simply order something a little more substantial next time, and actually take time to savor the meal." Drevas paused to shovel chunks of chashu, seaweed and thick udon noodles into his mouth before continuing: "'Like a normal person', as you so elegantly put it." He couldn't help smiling a little with that last comment.

"Regardless. I don't need accreditation on your report; all I want is to have my dinner and enjoy the remainder of my evening. That's all." Drevas finished, before carrying on with his meal. He handled his chopsticks surprisingly well for someone clearly not from Earth. Interesting.

Elen chewed thoughtfully on the last bite of her wrap, watching Drevas expertly maneuver a slab of seaweed like it had personally offended him. She tilted her head. “You're really good with those,” she said, gesturing with her half-wrapped napkin toward his chopsticks. “Like not just ‘I’ve used these before’ good, but ‘I could probably teach a class on utensil finesse’ good. Was it a crash course or full immersion?” She blinked. “Wait, actually, don’t answer that yet—”

She hesitated mid-thought, her fingers fidgeting slightly with a clean napkin. Her voice dropped just a notch, not nervous exactly, but caught in that in-between place where curiosity met self-awareness. “Do you... want to be left alone, actually? I can’t always tell. Sometimes I think someone’s just concentrating, but they’re actually wishing I’d go away, and other times I do go away and apparently I ‘ghosted’ them, which I didn’t mean to do, I just got distracted by plasma leak simulations...” She caught herself. “Anyway. I can go, or stay, or go and then come back with dessert. No pressure.” She gave him a small, sideways smile, trying to balance respect with her impulse to connect.

"If I haven't told you to leave me alone, you are welcome to stay." Drevas replied, with a somewhat softer, more sympathetic smile this time. "I know exactly how you feel. People haven't always been honest with me when I've overstayed my welcome, and I have no desire to become like them."

"Though if you must know, a former partner of mine taught me to use these - she was half Asian Chinese from Earth and half Betazoid, see. Oftentimes she had to use her own hands to teach me, because I lacked some control." Drevas recalls fondly and with a hint of wistfulness as he held up his chopsticks. "She got tired of watching me eat noodles and other Asian human dishes with a fork and spoon."

Elen’s smile softened, a little more relaxed now that the tension had eased. She tapped her PADD absentmindedly, thoughts racing but focused on this moment. “That’s...actually sort of nice,” she said, voice lighter. “Sounds like she was patient... and maybe a little tough? Feel tough love to me!” She paused, then her curiosity bubbled up, as it always did when she found a thread worth pulling. “Did family meals get... awkward? I mean, with all the mix of cultures and stuff? My brain jumps to all the tiny differences ...like, who passes the soy sauce first or if chopsticks ever caused a diplomatic incident.” She grinned, a bit sheepish but genuinely interested. “Sorry, I know that’s a weird question. I tend to ask those when my social radar is on the fritz...so basically, all the time.”

"I lasted only five minutes in her house. Her parents were livid when she brought me home; they'd wanted her to date a humanoid, not... well, something like me." Drevas shrugs. "Her human mother chased me out of the house and slammed the door in my face." Then he went silent for a long second or two before his shoulders sagged visibly. "I heard shouting and the sound of something breaking from just outside. She withdrew from the Academy the very next day."

"I hold nothing against her, or her parents. I find that humans of Asian descent are quite eager to hold fast to traditional values - which is itself neither right nor wrong. That is entirely their right to do so." Drevas resumed his meal, albeit a teensy bit more slowly now. "One stumble on a journey does not the whole journey make. I've since had a sparing few others who've been far more open-minded."

Elen’s eyes went wide for a second, then she shook her head, a bit incredulous. “Seriously? They chased you out just because of what you look like? That’s… ridiculous. Like, we’re all just people, or species! But that kind of stuff? It shouldn’t even be a thing. On Mars, you get all kinds of folks working together, no one bats an eye.” She shrugged, biting her lip before adding with a half-smile, “I mean, if someone threw me out for dating outside their expectations, I’d probably throw a tantrum...or build a starship just to prove them wrong.”

Then she tilted her head, curious, “Do those kind of old-school attitudes still mess with you when you meet new people? Because if they do, that’s just not fair.”

"Very rarely. People can and sometimes will choose to stay true to the values that once served them, suitable or not, and that is their right." Drevas replies with a sad smile.

"Nothing I do will change that. But I have learned to simply adapt and move on. If someone is simply unprepared to connect with me, then I have lost nothing. Simple as that."

Elen blinked, his words hitting harder than she expected. Her brain processed them at warp five, emotions tripping over each other like loose cables in a crawlspace. And then, because her mouth didn’t always wait for clearance; “Or, I mean, you could just call them an asshat,” she blurted. “Not saying it fixes the galaxy, but sometimes it helps.”

She rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly aware she was rambling again but unable to stop. “I’ve never had to go through that. I’m human, more or less...technically there’s some Betazoid in the recipe, but it’s the kind of trace you can’t even taste, you know?” She gave a small shrug, shoulders rising and falling with a flicker of self-deprecation. “I blend. In a crowd, I don’t stand out unless I trip over a tricorder or start monologuing to a console.” Her voice softened slightly. “But you...you’ve walked through rooms where people didn’t want to see you. And you still talk about them without bitterness. That’s…” She exhaled. “That’s strength. I’d probably just go full warp core breach and make a scene.” Then, with a wry, crooked grin, she said, “I think that makes you the better person. Or at least the more composed one.”

"Exploding into a fit and slinging names over rejection accomplishes nothing, except prove to those around you that you lack maturity." Drevas replies with a kind smile. "I do not need or expect everyone to acknowledge or view me im a favorable light. Am I doing my job to the best of my ability? Am I living an honest life? If the answer to these simple questions is yes, then no, I do not need the approval of those who choose to see me differently to carry on with my life. Those who choose to recognise me will. That's all."

Elen let out a quiet breath, not quite a laugh, but somewhere close. “See, that’s the healthy, balanced response I wish my brain defaulted to. You say all that and I’m like: yep, valid, solid, admirable... and also? Pretty sure I’d still want to yell into a pillow for a bit and make passive-aggressive comments about someone’s shoes if I got that slung at me.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t mocking... there was real appreciation in her eyes. “I’m working on it. The whole ‘not needing people to see me a certain way’ thing. But I guess some of us take the scenic route to that kind of clarity. And you...it sounds like you've already arrived at your destination.”

"Getting here is a journey, as you already pointed out. I didn't say or imply that it would be simple to start believing and internalising that." Drevas smiles as he picks up his chopsticks, ready to forage a little lower in that pile of chashu and seaweed. "You may take a long time. Or not. But you will encounter many situations that will tempt you to lash out in a bid to be noticed. Through them you will hone this verh same mindset. I promise."

Then his chopsticks delve into the pile, carefully wiggling a piece of meat and seaweed free. "Well then, wouldn't you look at that?' A tiny smile blossomed on his craggy lips. "The pile hasn't collapsed yet."

Elen leaned forward, eyeing the udon like it might reveal its secrets. “Okay, now that’s just showing off,” she said, gesturing at the still-standing pile. “Either you engineered a load-bearing noodle stack or the laws of physics are taking a personal day.” She smirked, sitting back slightly. “I swear, if that thing survives to the bottom, I’m using it as my new stability metric. Emotional state? Somewhere around seaweed layer. Life plans? Broth-adjacent. Romantic prospects? Hanging on by a rogue pickle.”

Then her tone shifted just a bit, still light, but sincere. “And hey... thanks. For letting me crash your dinner. And for being real. You didn’t have to share any of that, but I’m glad you did.” She paused and then gave him a half grin. “Also, I reserve the right to quote you next time I’m spiraling. You've got this annoyingly calm thing going on...it’s kind of unfair, really.”

"That too takes practice, years of it. One day you too will get there if you work at it." Drevas smiles as he continues with dinner unperturbed. "And you may join me for dinner anytime. Except when I've got something important to do that requires my absolute attention."

“I hear you,” Elen said, flicking her fingers in a loose sort of gesture that somehow managed to be both understanding and just a bit theatrical. “I’m rather the same, honestly, someone walks past humming, or a console pings just right, and suddenly my brain’s off chasing it like it’s got warp nacelles. Unless I’m deep in something...then I forget the time, forget meals, once forgot an entire shift rotation. Not ideal.” She grinned, all warmth and self-deprecating humour. “But yes. Head down, in the zone, got it.”

She gave a light, mock salute, two fingers to her temple, and then glanced towards his bowl with unabashed curiosity. “Right, I should get back to… well. One of six half-finished projects. Possibly involving heat dispersion coils. Possibly crocheted ones, don’t ask.”

Her eyes flicked back to his food, eyebrows lifting. “Still can’t believe that held its structural integrity. Honestly impressive.” She stood, collecting her own plate with practiced ease. “Anyway...I’ll leave you to it. Cheers for the chat.”

"The very same to you. See you next time, lieutenant." Drevas replied with a smile. He had a feeling that 'next time' wouldn't be too far away, in fact, since the Guinevere was only so large.

Lieutenant Commander Drevas
Chief Tactical Officer
U.S.S. Guinevere

Lt. JG Elen Rell
Acting Chief Engineer
U.S.S. Guinevere

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