"This Is Meant To Be A Mess-Hall?"
by CWO Sikara - Chief Chef and Head of Lounge Staff
Location: Mess Hall, USS Sulu
Stardate: 57907.20 15h00
***
Sikara, after three hours, had finally made his small quarters more
homely. Unpacking the last ornament from his, now sold, apartment on
Risa. He smiled, the size of the room was not going to taint the
exhilarating feeling that he was going somewhere with his life. Quite
literally. He had heard rumours of the Sulu's future orders, they were
going somewhere quite enterprising it seemed, with the heated whispering
he had noticed since arriving on board just over 6 hours ago.
It had been 4 days since the big party and the debate which ensued it.
The captain's will had eventually reigned supreme. The only person
having objected to Sikara being on board was the executive officer, who
respectfully ceased her argument once the Captain had made his decision.
The sign of a good officer, Sikara thought.
After another look around the small quarters, that were somehow meant
for two, although he had not been given a room-mate yet, and Sikara
turned and walked to the door.
Laughing as he moved his hand to open it. He walked through the
automatic door and headed down the corridor, hoping to find a Turbolift.
He made a mental note to look at the deck plans, after taking the wrong
turn several times, and ending up at a dead-end.
It was slightly unnerving to have the many officers, in their uniforms
staring at him with intrigue. I suppose they must think I'm catching a
lift somewhere or something, Sikara laughed to himself.
Finding the Turbolift he ordered it to take him to the mess hall and
stumbled unaccustomed to the jolt of the lift.
A lot to get used to, he thought.
***Mess Hall***
Sikara, looking at each and every door as he walked down deck 2, finally
found the mess hall a few minutes later. He should have guessed really,
with the massive double doors.
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the place he would spend most of
his time for the foreseeable future.
His face dropped. The mess-hall wasn't what he was expecting. At all. It
failed in each and every way. The colour scheme was that diabolical
collection of the dullest greys Starfleet could find. The furniture
looked dire and uncomfortable. Looking over at the shelf which seemed to
serve as a serving area, he saw terrible trays that should have belonged
in a school.
Cursing he said, to himself, "This is what Starfleet calls a mess-hall.
Why would people come here?"
"That question is invalid." A sound startled him.
Looking around he laughed to himself as he realised who the woman was
"It wasn't a question." He smiled. "How many people have visited this on average, per day in the last four
weeks?" Sikara asked, wondering if people did come here at all.
"15.62 crewman to two decimal places," the computer replied.
Sighing, Sikara said, "Lock the messhall for everyone apart from me."
"Authorisation required."
"Authorisation Head chef Sikara-5-2-9-1-12-Echo."
"Mess-Hall locked."
Sikara, cursing to himself, got to work cleaning up. Noting to himself to
visit the captain when he could.