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ORIGINS: USS Hood February 2010: Difference between revisions
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==[ORIGINS] USS HOOD: A Date with Miss Blackshirt== | |||
===by Daniel Belin=== | |||
One Year Earlier | |||
Scene: The Rooftop Grille, Antares III | |||
“John, get the rib-eye,” said Ira Calvaster, who was taking intermittent sips from a glass of Chateau Picard, “It is simply delicious, and made from real earth cow.” | |||
“I'll be sure to order it” said DeSimms, smiling. He took a sip from a drink he had whenever he was in safe territory, a bourbon on the rocks. | |||
The waiter came over and asked, “Are you ready to order?” | |||
Ira, with her exotic taste in food, ordered an alien meat. The waited turned to DeSimms, who glanced at the menu one more time and said, “I'll have, uh...the rib-eye?” | |||
“Excellent choice sir. May I recommend a wine to go with that?” | |||
“Sure,” said DeSimms, “I'll have whatever you recommend, sir.” | |||
“Thank you.” | |||
Ira looked at DeSimms and asked, “You like wine?” | |||
“Not that white Serbian wine you forced me to drink.” | |||
Ira laughed. She remembered that, and how DeSimms stayed up all night vomiting. That sure shattered the romantic night, “OK, that might have gone a little bad.” | |||
“No crap. It was 300 year old drain cleaner.” | |||
And so the conversation continued for twenty minutes. Then the waiter came back, balancing two plates. The rib-eye was set in front of John, and made his mouth water almost instantly. Ira looked at the rib-eye, “I said it would be good.” | |||
“Sure looks good,” said DeSimms. His hand then quickly moved itself under the table. It came back up with a seven-inch blade Kabar knife, which certainly turned some eyes in his direction. He sliced into the steak, took a small piece and brought it to his mouth. The rib-eye melted on his tongue and the flavors swirled to fill every corner of the oral cavity. The smoke of the fire used to cook it, the meat, and the dry rub mixed in near perfect harmony, tickling his palate and stimulating the senses. DeSimms swallowed and looked to Ira, “Remind me to take your culinary advice.” | |||
“Absolutely,” said Ira. She smiled and asked about his recent work, “Hows it going in Stryker platoon?” | |||
“Classified,” quipped John, before taking another forkful of meat. He swallowed, “More rescue missions. Civilians seem to be getting in trouble than ever nowadays.” | |||
“Not surprising. Youth don't respect the indigenous.” | |||
“So true,” said John, who was taking a drink from the wineglass, “It's funny how they're grateful for their rescue until you turn them over to a constable for violation of the Prime Directive.” | |||
Ira noticed DeSimms plate. The steak was gone. DeSimms used a cloth napkin to clean his knife before sheathing it. Ira asked, “Dessert?” | |||
“Dessert? I'll think I'll get some later. In our room,” DeSimms winked. | |||
Ira raised an eyebrow, “Wait a little longer, Rambo.” | |||
“Sure, Agent Calvaster,” quipped DeSimms. | |||
Respectfully, | |||
Daniel Belin | |||
John DeSimms | |||
USS HOOD, NCC-1701 | |||