A Tisket, A Tasket, A Picnic Basket

Posted on Tue 22nd Oct, 2019 @ 11:19pm by

637 words; about a 3 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Orchids & Jazz, Deck 600/Tactical Operations, Deck 1896
Timeline: MD 12, 1545

Pushing through the swinging door into the kitchen area, Serena checked all the pre-dinner activity. It was busy! No one seemed in too much of a hurry, though, or stressed. Marin ran a nice calm kitchen, not like all the chefs she'd ever known. On the counter to the right of the door stood the take out orders, and toward the wall there was a large old-fashioned basket which Serena recognized. She ought to. She'd inherited it from her mother!

Pulling it toward her, she pushed the wooden rod through the loops and peeked inside. It smelled heavenly, and she could pick out well-known scents like cucumber, potato, something that tickled her nose, and all overlaid with a faint chocolate aroma.

"You're going to sniff all the flavor out, Alia. Close it up, now," Marin Holmes ordered.

Laughing, the woman did as ordered. "With smells like that, it has to be the most perfect picnic basket ever. How can I ever thank you?"

"Oh, I'll think of something," the chef laughed. "Go on, now. Go find the person who's eating that with you, and I hope it's a very nice man."

Serena smiled secretively, and said, "It might be. I'll never tell. Thank you so much. This is important to me."

"It's a man, then," Marin tossed over her shoulder as she headed back toward her ovens.

Humming as she left the kitchen, she caught Jade's eye and nodded toward the door to indicate she was off shift now. Jade nodded back and grinned at her.

Reon and Jenna were chatting at the entrance, and she groaned silently, fearing she was in for teasing.

"All dressed up and a picnic basket," Jenna said. "Where do you think she's going, Velasquez?"

"On a picnic," he deadpanned.

"You'd be absolutely right," Serena said, sweeping past them and out the door before they could get in any more cracks.

As she hurried toward the tram station on Deck 600, she cast a critical eye over her sundress. It was large black and white checks with a belt of white and a round white collar. It didn't feel that dressy. Maybe the rose enamel pin on the collar was too much? The tram arrived just as she did, and the thought slipped from her mind as she hurried on and found a seat. She had a lot of decks to go!

Minutes later, she got off on deck 1900, and took the turbolift to 1896. This part of the station wasn't as fancy as the parts she frequented, but it was all smooth silvery bulkheads with colored lines which pointed the way to the main areas. Andrew was the Chief of Tactical Operations, or more technically, Chief Tactical & Strategic Operations Officer. A broad red line led straight to the office and she followed it through a wide door.

She hadn't been down here before, but it looked nothing like she expected. There was someone seated at a desk, and she had checked Andrew's location before coming down, but she still felt a little unsure as she approached the desk.

"May I help you?" asked the young petty officer who eyed her appreciatively.

"Is Commander Eberstark in, please?" she asked.

"I believe so, but the day is at an end, so I don't know if he'll be able to see you. May I give him your name?"

"Serena Alia," she said. It hadn't occurred to her until just now that he might have other plans for after work. As the man entered the door which must be Andrew's office, she chewed her lip slightly. Then she stood up straight and closed her mouth, wandering over to the wall to read the two plaques fastened there.

Behind her, she heard the door open and turned, hoping Andrew would be free.

 

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