A Turkanan Bearing Chocolate

Posted on Mon 28th Oct, 2019 @ 2:59pm by Lieutenant Damion Ildaran
Edited on on Sun 3rd Nov, 2019 @ 8:26am

1,470 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Eliabeth Anderson's apartment
Timeline: MD-11, 1800 hours

"Elizabeth, may I come by your place this evening after I get off duty?" Damion asked her, sending the call from his office. He had stored the dessert item from Orchids & Jazz in the department refrigerator to get it out of temptation range.

She hesitated only a moment, analyzing her feelings - a combination of dread and anticipation that was new to her - and then replied, "Of course. You're always welcome, Damion. Actually, I'd like to talk to you, if you have some time."

That wasn't entirely true. It was more that she felt a need to talk to him. On her home ground ... why exactly did that thought pop into her consciousness? Their last encounter had played over and over in her memory files until she shunted it off in a closed loop. It created a feeling of ... what? Dissatisfaction? Anxiety? A little of both but neither was the right term. She pushed away the thought ... for now.

"Are you actually leaving work at 1600 hours today? My last client is finished an hour before that, and I'm free for the rest of the evening. Come when you will."

"It's likely to be later," Damion said. "I'll do my best to get there by 1700 at the latest. I'll look forward to whatever you'd like to talk about."

She let a smile creep into her voice. "I wouldn't make any blanket statements that might get me in trouble, bud. But we'll talk about that when you come by. Would you like me to fix some food? Lasagna, maybe?"

"Elizabeth, I always like talking with you, even about difficult things. If you're in the mood for lasagna, I certainly won't pass it up. I'll bring a salad and dessert."

"Lasagna it is, then, and salad with homegrown tomatoes, I hope? Dessert is also welcome." Anderson said. "Ping me when you leave your office, and I'll have things ready. And thanks for calling, Damion."

Damion chuckled. "After yesterday's awkward conversation, I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me anytime soon. I'll call you before I leave."

* * *

Damion wound up leaving his office at 1715, which was still, at least, better than 1800. He let Elizabeth know, retrieved the Death By Chocolate from the department refrigerator, and went to his quarters to change out of his uniform and make the salad.

It was wonderful to live in a place with replicators programmed to produce a seemingly infinite variety of useful things. All he had to do was describe what he wanted, and the replicator produced a cloth container lined with insulating material that he could use to carry both the salad and the dessert. "Why my people left the Federation, I've no idea," Damion muttered to himself as he packed the food. He rode the turbolift down to Deck 100, then caught the tram for the bulk of the ride down to Deck 1554. After exiting the turbolift Damion walked to the River Village. He climbed the flight of stairs, stepped inside Elizabeth's waiting room door, locked it, and then tapped her intercom. "Elizabeth, I'm here."

"Head on up, door's open," she called, the slight echo betraying that she was somewhere in the apartment, but not near the intercom. She stood back from the table, laid with a red linen cloth, white dishes and napkins, silver-colored flatware, and clear crystal goblets. A large white baking dish filled with lasagna sat with a clear cover on one side and a pitcher of ice water on the other. She nodded her head in satisfaction.

In the center was a third goblet filled with small red carnations and white baby's breath, which she reached out to touch. She doubted that Damion knew the language of flowers, but she'd downloaded it from Scent of Love's site on the database. She would know she was sending a message of innocence and acceptance - innocence of any intentional wrong doing the previous day, and acceptance of whatever he chose to think or do in relation to their previous conversation. She heard his steps outside her door and turned in that direction as he entered.

Damion smiled when he saw Elizabeth because he couldn't not. "The lasagna smells delicious," he said as he stepped inside and inhaled. He closed the door behind him with one foot. "How's your day be--Good lord, is it your birthday?" he asked, his eyes widening when he saw the (to him) elaborate table setting.

Momentarily, Elizabeth was confused. Why would he think it was her birthday? She followed his eyes to the table, and then she laughed. "No, and remind me sometime to tell you why we called it uncorking day. I've been in a red and white mood all week, and this seemed like the perfect time to make a pretty tablescape." Turning back to him, she teased. "Why? Did you bake me a cake?"

Damion laughed. "If I had, you'd not want to eat it. Baking was never my great talent. Marin Holmes, though--she does a much better job with it." He walked toward the kitchen, set the satchel of food on the counter, and took out the salad. "The table looks beautiful." He set the salad bowl down and gave the greens a toss with the tongs. "Is there room in your refrigerator for the dessert?"

"Always," she answered, moving to put the box away. "You know, my files tell me that what used to be called a refrigerator was a very large box, sometimes with two doors. One side kept things frozen. Can you imagine freezing meat and then unfreezing it to cook it and eat? I can't imagine how terrible it would taste, with all the cells broken down and treated that way! Truthfully, it's one of many reasons I'm glad to have been created in this time instead of the past."

Anderson patted her small box set into the wall and turned toward him. "The salad looks so fresh. What a miracle that I was programmed to be able to taste food! But I wonder if it tastes the same to me as it does to you? Of course," she laughed as she flicked the candles on, "as long as we both enjoy it, I don't suppose it matters. I imagine it is curious questions similar to that which led a man like your Dobbs to the paths no one is meant to go."

"Dobbs who?" Damion asked. He thought a moment. "Wasn't there an admiral named that? Famous for work in the sciences? The name sounds familiar, but I can't remember from where."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes as she seated herself and placed a napkin in her lap. "Okay, we'll play it your way. Yes, he was an admiral, still is, as far as I know, though thoroughly discredited, I would hope. Fired as people used to say, drummed out of the Navy. He thought of himself as a scientist, but I think of him as far worse than the Butcher of Clarvis. At least Dr. Day had no idea what Starfleet was doing with her research, and she tried to help when she discovered it. Dobbs ... he's the very definition of evil in the name of science."

Damion gave Elizabeth a baffled look. How had their conversation gone from the taste of food to--he didn't know what it was about now--in a nonosecond or two? He held up a hand. "Can we please back up a moment? The only person named Dobbs I'm aware of was some admiral who retired from Starfleet a year or two ago, before you and I even left the Hermes. Fought in the Dominion War, I think, and worked in sciences. What in bloody hell does a retired Starfleet admiral have to do with Dr. Holly Day, and why would you think he's the definition of evil? Where did that come from?"

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, and then asked, "You really don't know what I'm talking about? Or is this intelligence double-speak for you can't talk about these things, even though I already know about them?" She ladled some lasagna onto her large plate, and then the salad on a smaller plate . She was puzzled, and wished she had more insight into humans, not something she normally felt around Damion. Was he truly not read in on Dobbs? Had he really not seen the connection between his current case with the multi-personality prisoner and Oblivion? Was she, herself, jumping to conclusions that weren't founded? But no, her logic circuits were uncompromised. The connection had to be there.

Damion slapped a hand down on the table, hard. "Elizabeth! You're an EMH and a trained counselor. Look at me! Do I look or sound like I'm bloody lying to you?"

 

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