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The Feast III

Posted on Sun Nov 15th, 2020 @ 8:53pm by Sim Master Alpha & Captain Mystery Ellis & Lieutenant Commander Feyd Relor

Mission: By Odin!
Location: Captain's Ward Room
Timeline: Current

The bowls of Skyr and the platters of fruits and grains were cleared and replaced with bowls of soup. The general commotion of the diners and overlapping conversations made discussion between different sections of the table impossible. As the Odinskus slurped soup from their soups with great relish, the Independence officers were left with the decision whether or not to drink directly from their bowls.

Astra took a sip of the soup, then asked Mystery, "Vhat lead yoo to decide to bekome a sheep's Keptain?"

Feyd picked up the bowl and tipped it to his lips, making a large slurping sound as he did so. Glancing around, he shrugged apologetically. “What?” He said, “It’s Good.”

Mystery turned to Astra "I decided to become a ship's captain because I wanted to further my career with Starfleet and being a captain is reached a goal and I can climb higher ranks should I apply and test for them."

By this point, Feyd had had more than a few drinks, so his ‘usual’ penchant for decorum was non-existent, meaning, he was as blunt as he always was.

“Eeecactly.” He slurred, “She’s trying to go from a functionally meaningful positttion to a functionally meaningless one. Admirals tend to forget pretty quick what serving on an aacctual ship is like.”

Feyd thumped his mug on the table in an expression of finality, but only succeeded in sloshing his precious drink around a bit. Booze sloshed on the table was not drinkable, he observed. He glanced sideways at Mystery to see if his words were going to get him in trouble, but had trouble deciding which of the two images of her to glance at.

Mystery had heard the doctor's comment and glanced sideways "When I make commodore or higher I plan to remain in command of a ship. I'm not one of those who likes to sit on her arse and let others do things. But you and I will need to talk later,"

"Zat zounds hominous," Astra remarked after a spoonful of the soup, "In mine zociety, eet iz bed manners to zo hopenly hinzult yoos keptain like dat."

Feyd shrugged, but remained silent.

With that, a chilled descended on the conversation and the three ate in silence. When the braised eel was brought out, Astra scanned the table as she cut up the delicacy. At the far end, the Storhatten was spinning a yarn that the Federation Commander was engrossed in. Towards the middle of the table the Chief Engineer appeared uncomfortable in the presences of the two Odinskus priestesses. The Odinskus were drinking quiet freely of the beverages provided but to their credit, none were as inebriated as the doctor across from Astra. It was well, Astra thought, as the Odinskus were in a delicate position.

From the middle of the table there were shouts of agreement from the Odinskus and pounding on the table at an exchange between Lieutenant Lance and the Jungfru Kera down at the middle of the table. Astra examined her Jungfru closely then turned to Mystery and asked, "Vhat ken yoo tell me habout det vone," she asked, indicating Lieutenant Lance.

Mystery looked over at Lance and the back to Astra, "He's a good officer, he's single if that's what your asking about."

"Eet dont zeem det hany ov yoos iz married," Astra observed, "Eet makez me vunder if marriage iz himportent to yoos. But hy vas hesking habout de kind of man he iz, vhat kind of varrior."

"Marriage is important to all of us, I'm currently not interested in getting married. I have a ship to worry about and everyone aboard, officers, civilians and guests are all my responsibility. As for what kind of warrior Lieutenant Lance is, he's a fine warrior, I trust him totally," Mystery replied..

"Und yoo doktor," Astra asked, polishing off the last of her braised eel, "Vhat hare yoose thots on marriage?"

But the Doctor did not answer. Overcome by the high alcohol content of the ale brewed by Jefferson, Feyd had fallen asleep at the table, his head slowly lowering to his chest.

 

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