Dissecting Dinner

Posted on Wed Sep 7th, 2011 @ 3:58pm by Lieutenant Commander Jonathon Bastin PhD & Lieutenant Commander Melissa Daniels M.D.

Mission: The Pak'Leth Problem
Location: Various
Timeline: SL D01; 1845hrs

Punctuality had always been something that Lieutenant Commander Jonathan Bastin had always practiced; a side effect of being a diplomatic officer had been that he never arrived any later than fifteen minutes early. He'd endeavored to stop before, and each attempt had been an exercise in futility. Jon wondered, idly, if it was something he was going to have to live with for the rest of his life, and if so, did that mean he would revisit death again early? Having already seen what was beyond that last frontier, Jon couldn't exactly find himself worrying over death. From what he could piece together of his experience, he wasn't at all unhappy with it. Granted, all he'd retained after his lovely little jaunt to the hereafter was feeling of contentment and peace, but that was enough, even if he wasn't metaphysically inclined.

At the Doctor's insistence, Cmdr. Bastin arrived at the door of the Chief Medical Officer's domicile. Judging from the proximity to his own, that being right down the corridor a ways, he got the feeling that she lived in the same luxury he himself enjoyed. He wondered to himself with a bit of a smirk whether he was even going to see his room, or if he and the Doctor were destined to tear the station apart by way of partying far too heartily for the place to handle. Time would tell...

Jon reached out and pressed the door chime, then stepped back and adjusted himself. He'd opted for his finest 'casual' suit, which was to say that he looked like he was about to rub elbows with the elite. He'd gone with the suit rather than his uniform since they'd agreed to meet off duty, and nothing screamed off duty like ditching the uniform. His only real excuse for the flashiness of his attire was... he didn't own anything less formal. Hazards of the job...

The doctor had a much bigger wardrobe, and she was having issues trying to pick which one. She was stuck between a betazoid evening dress and a more casual human evening dress. She looked at the dress. "Maybe I should just go in my uniform..... Nah...." She stated. "Oh c'mon Melissa, you've got to make a choice, you cannot wear both at the same time." She mentioned. A door chime interrupted her train of thought. "Enter." She stated from her bedroom.

Jon stepped into the room and took in the entire thing. He was surprised at how 'lived in' the place felt. He was rather impressed by it. He took a seat on the couch, one overlooking the view ports on the outer most portion of the station.

"Take a seat, this will only take a moment." Melissa stated. "Dark Blue, or black..." she stated again. "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe..." She muttered from the bedroom.

"Well, I'm wearing black, if that helps," Jon called out, able to distinguish a fair bit of what she was muttering despite the distance. If Jon had to chalk his hearing up to something, it would be the artificial eardrums he had to have put in after the attack he'd lived through. While he wasn't super human by any stretch, low tones came in a lot clearer than they used to.

Melissa spoke, "Matching outfits? Hmmm. That would work..." She began dressing into the dress. "By the way, you know what I do on this base, so what do you do?"

"Well, to make it nice and neat, I'm a diplomat. There's a bit more to me than that, but in a nutshell..." Just remarked.

Melissa responded. "Diplomatic Corps, ohh boy..." She stated.

"Something wrong?" Jon inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

"I don't have issues with diplomats, but my parents do. They're third generation colonists from somewhere near the former Cardassian DMZ." She noted.

"Not a fun place to be, diplomat or not. Not that I understand the connection between them and my job..." Cmdr. Bastin scratched his head.

Melissa was finishing up and she began to let down her hair. "Oh yeah, they aren't too fond of Cardassians, nor diplomats. I don't have any issues with Cardassians or Diplomats." She noted. "I think we all deserve a chance at redemption in our lives."

"Well, I can hardly atone for a sin I wasn't apart of. In fact, during that time, I think I was still at the Academy..." Jon mused before shrugging, "Oh well, I'm sure if it ever comes to it and I meet them, I'll just have to tell them I'm a lawyer... which I am..."

Melissa entered the room, and she was even more striking with her hair let down. Usually she wore it in a hairclip so it would be more manageable if she ever had to go into surgery. "I guess that may work, and it's less complicated that way." She noted, "So, what do you think?"

"I think I'll have to avert my eyes soon or I might just go blind from the radiance of your beauty..." Jon said, standing slowly as he took her in, "Now I feel under dressed..."

Melissa nodded, "Usually it's uniform and overcoat, and sometimes dress uniform for visiting ambassadors and dignitaries. Then I have my formal wear. When you're a Starfleet Officer, you manage to get all sorts of exotics from all over the quadrant." She stated. "Now then," She presented her hand. "Care to escort me to your quarters?"

Jon took the offered hand and tucked it on his arm, leading the way, "I'd love to."

The pair exited the woman's quarters and took the short walk down the corridor. Given that he hadn't aboard very long, he wasn't entirely unpacked... however he'd had the presence of mind to at least make the living and dinning areas of the room livable before he'd gotten dressed. As Jon brought her inside, the first thing one noticed and rightly so since it dominated the center of the room, was a single table, complete with candles, a bottle of wine, and place settings for two.

"Never hurts to be prepared," Jon chuckled, "So, what's your fancy tonight?"

Melissa smiled, "Surprise me. I like surprises."

"Very well," Jon said, guiding her to the table. He pulled the chair out for her and helped her ease into it before positioning not her, but the table to meet her. Sidestepping just a tad, he retrieved the wine and poured her a glass, setting it in front of her gingerly so as not to slosh it about.

"I think I have just the thing..." Jon smirked before walking back toward the replicator. Knowing full well that she was within earshot, the diplomat took the liberty of manually inputting the desired meal, complete with standard meal interval pauses between replication. The first offering that materialized was the large garden salad, complimented by two small bowls for each of them as well as a small line of dressings, all atop a serving tray. Jon picked the tray up and brought it over to the table, where he placed the salad between their place sittings and allowed her to make her dressing selection.

"I think I got most of the standard dressings there, but if you have a preference I didn't grab, let me know and I'll make it," Jon said politely.

Melissa grabbed the Italian. "Well now, you did well with the wabbit food." She mentioned. "And I guess we can do with some conversation, perhaps I could tell you a little bit about the Base." She said as she began to eat the salad."

"I hadn't pegged you for the rumor mill," Jon teased as he took the Italian dressing and a helping of salad from the larger bowl after providing his guest with some first.

"Oh yes, I know a great many people here. Both inside and out." She said with a grin.

"Well then, what do I need to know about people around here to survive? A man hates to walk into a room and be caught with his trousers down. Although, I did encounter a species that was incredibly advanced who had no sense of shame. Actually had to wear my combadge hooked to a necklace because we didn't want to offend the natives with our 'useless trappings'. I think more than a few people took offense to our being disrobed... but mostly because we were hung better..." Jon chuckled, remembering that encounter, "First time I'd ever had to be naked to make a deal. Been to a few weddings on Betazed, but hell... being naked there isn't exactly strange when they can read people's minds. Funny thing is... no one's ever been able to do it to me. Some kind of abnormality, makes me a blank slate... the only think I can say I'm happy to share in common with the Ferengi."

Melissa chuckled, "I actually did an exam on a Ferengi one time." She stated with a grin.

"Oh really, how did that work out?" Jon inquired.

"You don't want to know." Melissa stated. "Lets just say, that I was the only doctor in sight, and he didn't want a 'hew-mon female' probing him." She noted. "The Ferengi have the best medicine money can buy. Money being the operative word, and he actually had a malignant cancerous tumor, and in the Twenty-fourth Century. So after thirty minutes of explaining, and exaggerating, on the painful consequences of cancer. He agreed to allow a 'Hew-mon Female' to do the surgery." She noted. "Then after he was done, he stated quite plainly why he wasn't going to pay me for anything, then I told him that no one paid for anything at a Federation Medical Center. So, he left."

"Huh... why does that not shock me at all?" Jon couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, the story doesn't end there. A month later the same Ferengi comes around, this time complaining about a grazed wound from a Nausicaan disruptor. Don't ask me where he got shot, I do not know. He had it looked at by a Ferengi Physician who turned out to be a scam." Melissa stated. "Then he came to me, and it was bad, already in necrosis, so the arm had to come off. I took the arm off, and replaced it with automated prosthesis." She noted, "And he was so impressed by this that he's come to me ever since, with one little condition. I do not tell any other Ferengi where he goes for a checkup. I tell him that I'm already bound by Doctor-Patient privilege. No matter how stubborn a race is, medicine is the universal diplomacy. Everyone needs it." She winked

"Yes, it is one of the oldest professions and the one that never goes out of style. Me personally, I'd much rather argue someone into submission than anything else. Fits my personality I suppose. And there's no shortage of stupid people in the universe that will fall for anything if worded properly. That actually amazes me about most people... they want to believe someone so badly that even the boldest of lies can be turned into the most absolute truth..." the diplomat chuckled, "I'll give you an example. I had a friend back at the Academy who was desperately in love with a girl. I mean... so much so he bordered on psychotic or something. So anyway, he comes to me one day and asks me how he should go about starting a conversation with her. Of course, I wasn't thinking about it when I said it, but I told him to come up with some lie, just whatever popped into his head, and use it for a conversation starter. The good majority of people, I've found, never remember how their first meeting with someone actually started, only when. Useful tool, that..."

Jon took a couple bits of salad before continuing, "So here this kid goes, right up to her, and tells her in the most blunt way possible that he has a terminal illness and he wanted ask her out before he died and never got the chance. I about fell out of my chair laughing. Damnedest thing too... it actually worked. They ended up getting married a few years back. I asked him if his terminal illness ever cleared up and they both looked at me like I was stupid... Memory is such a fickle thing..."

It was about that time that the replicator spun up and materialized their main course. The smell of it was unmistakeable. Jon rose and walked over to the small alcove, retrieving their meal and depositing it in front of their place sittings. Jon had taken the liberty of preparing a rather succulent looking steak, complete with a baked sweet potato, and various mixed vegetables to go with it.

"Figured since we talked about it earlier, I'd go ahead and make it anyway. This is actually an exact replica of a meal I make from scratch. I went as far as to butcher my own shanks to get the meat, and the way that thing was marbled... Let's just say I couldn't let this meal fade into obscurity. You almost can't tell the difference between this and the real thing... which I promise to make for you someday if I can get a kitchen to lend me a few hours. Otherwise, I'll have to wait until they issue me family quarters so I can requisition a full kitchen," the diplomat explained.

Melissa nodded. "Just be careful with whom you get to transport your food for you. I've had to revoke several food transportation licenses due to improper storage and handling. But I do have a list of several firms that have excellent ratings from the restaurants on the Promenade." Melissa stated, "One of them uses complete bio-stasis chambers instead of freezers."

"Always nice to know," Jon chuckled as he tucked in to his steak. The pair sat in silence for a short time, mainly in an effort to enjoy a bit of their meal unobstructed by banter. After a stretch, however, Jon continued their conversation.

"So, what's a smart, talented, and lovely woman like you still doing in the dating pool? I can't imagine any man stupid enough to let you slip away once he has you. Is it just the local population, are they all brain dead morons or something?" Jon grinned.

Melissa responded, "Yeah, well. I have my bouts of unthought at times." She noted with a chuckle. "And lets just say we'll go into it later." She noted. "Much later." She then looked deep into thought. 'How do I tell him about Broken Spear? Ow... It may drive him away.' She thought to herself.

The diplomat shrugged, "Not a huge deal. Everyone has their reasons... Take me for instance. I've never been single by choice. Last girl I was involved with broke up with me because she considered my job a marriage partner that she couldn't compete with. And the problem is, she's not the first one to say that to me. I think... four of my last love interests since I left the mainstream Fleet for the JAG offices considered my job to be an emotional leech. And they were right, being in legal sucks a lot of time away from you, especially when you're in the middle of a case. And then, once I made Magistrate and started hearing cases... well, you can just imagine the hell I went through having to preside over cases every day. One would end, and I'd have another one on the docket... There were months that I didn't even see my own bed... my chambers had one it in so I didn't have to leave and risk being late the next day."

Jon took a few more bites of his steak before continuing, "I actually enjoy being in the diplomatic corps a hell of a lot better. Once the mission is over, it could be weeks before the next one. Really frees a man up to have a social life. Granted, not every mission is absorbing either, so the ones that don't suck out all the spare time are a boon as well. I'm hoping to find that special someone to fill those blanks in my schedule now that I know I can count on them..."

A small grin crossed his face, "Or maybe I already have..."

The Doctor nodded. "And believe it or not, the only thing I wanted to do was to be, as the famous Dr. McCoy once said, 'An old fashioned country doctor.'" She mentioned with a giggle.

"Have you achieved that goal?" Jon asked with a smirk.

"I do pretty well running a medical center. It's a good way to live my life." Melissa stated. "Jon, I need to tell you something."

"Alright... but if you tell me you're a man..." the diplomat joked.

"I was not always what I am now. Ten years ago I fought in the Dominion War. For the deepest and darkest in Starfleet Intelligence." Melissa noted. "I cannot tell you everything Jon, but I once killed a lot of very bad people. But they were lives nonetheless and I ended so many that I cannot bring myself to kill again. So I became a doctor." She noted. But she did not say the word 'Assassin'.

Jon could tell it was something that was eating away at her, and he could understand that. He'd done his fair share of killing as part of botched away missions, though he was certain that didn't remotely compare with her situation. Taking lives in self defense was a far cry from doing it as part of your day. Jon set his silverware down and drew himself up in a very businesslike manner.

"You're not the first person I've met with a sorted past. And you most likely won't be the last. What I can tell you though, is that everyone has a chance to make up for the past. Some of us don't realize it until it's too late, others... like yourself... are given the chance to start over. Will I sit here and tell you I condone violence and death as a matter of course... No... I'd be lying to you if I said I could. But, I'm also not going to sit here and tell you that you're evil and vile and not worthy of happiness just because in the past, you did some things I wouldn't have agreed with. Great thing about the past... unless someone opens up one of those temporal... whatever the hell things... and sends you back there, you never have to relive it," the man said in a sober and very controlled voice.

And then the moment passed and he was back to his cheerful self, "Important thing is, you're here, now, doing the good things, and you seem to love your work and love your new life. I'd say that's far more important than worrying about what you used to do. Hell... I used be a drunk. Not that anyone could blame me after that whole... nearly dying a rather horrible death inside an armored car that got his by an orbital gun fiasco... But I'm better now. I know that one or two beats the hell out of the whole bottle. It's all progress, and any progress is good progress. So what do you say you just fill all that baggage under accepted and forget about it. We have much better things to talk about than depressing nonsense. I mean, unless you want me to recount some of my less glorious moments in life and love. I guarantee you I'll have you running for tissues in no time."

Melissa responded, "Thank you Jon, that means a lot to me." She noted. "And here we are, on the first date, connecting with each other. I never thought it would happen like this, and so fast. Not that I'm complaining though. But you'll forgive me if we don't kiss on the first date. I have to give you something to look forward to on the second and third date Jon." She said with a grin.

"I suppose yearning will make the heart grow fonder... Or at least that's what the poets say. I for one will be happy with whatever I can get at this junction. I mean... it is only my first day, don't have any plans to get married by the end of the week... Though I wouldn't turn ya down if you asked," the diplomat said with a wink.

She chuckled, "I'd really like to see you again. Maybe for lunch sometime?" She noted. "Just remember, If I get a code blue on my communicator, I'll have to run."

"Oh, that's fine. I'm actually used to being interrupted in mid-meal to be honest. How about tomorrow? I should be free baring any interstellar wars being threatened upon us by some nasty threat from the great unknown. Since I don't see it happening, I believe my schedule will be completely open for you. But just for you, everyone else has to make an appointment," Jon grinned.

Melissa nodded, "I'll...." Her combadge chirped. =^= Doctor, we need you in medical. A transport just docked with about a hundred heavily injured Pak'leth onboard. =^=

Melissa sighed, "You've got to be kidding me."

"I have a feeling they aren't kidding. I suppose we will just have to continue this meal at another time," Jon said as he stood. Circling around the table, Jon took the woman's hand and gave it a quick kiss.

"Until the next meeting, my dear lady," the diplomat said before helping her out of the chair, "I'll be sure to keep my schedule flexible for you."