Forks In the Road

Chapter 14: Too Many Cooks

Summary: Thanks to Asso for special assistance with some characterizations. You will recognize his style in the opening scene. I couldn’t help mucking about with it so it has been weeble-ized. No way I can thank Cogito enough for his help, but here goes. Thanks Cogito!

Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise and its characters are copyright CBS/Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended by the author of this story, which is solely for the purpose of entertainment and is not for profit.

“Claaang!!” echoed through the galley as the stainless steel soup ladle careened off one of the numerous racks. “So I don’t know how much oregano to put in the picatta sauce?” cried Chef as he followed the ladle with a spatula.

Captain Buonavita looked for a few moments at the cook. Her attitude was stiff and composed, but Alessandro could clearly sense her temper was peaking. Her beautiful olive complexion was quickly changing into a very lively scarlet.

The chef clearly did not know what he had unleashed. On the other hand, Captain Buonavita had pushed all Chef’s buttons to the point that he had come unglued. Unfortunately, Allesandro was keenly aware of his cousin’s unfortunate knack for being insensitively irritating; in fact he had met no other human so uniquely skilled.

But - Alessandro could not help but smile wryly to himself - all in all, he could understand: they were talking about the culinary arts, not some mere trifle! After her duty as a captain, the art of cooking was foremost for the ineffable Captain Buonavita: female, Italian and an excellent cook.

Alessandro returned his focus to his captain, whose face was now bright red. Her rage, clearly manifest, had reached the point of no return. Alexander rolled his eyes, in hearing her shrill voice departing her lips with a viperish tone. “No, you do not. Obviously you learned your trade from a vendor of garbage disposals. Your sauce is hardly an improvement on your baking. Perhaps you should stick to scrambling eggs!”

The words were immediately followed by her recitation of the pertinent facts. Oh yes, the point of no return had definitely been breached.

In her madness the no longer composed and measured captain had succumbed to her ancestry and heritage and surrendered to the teachings of father Dante: In church with the saints and in the tavern with the gluttons; and so, she unconsciously found the stock pot properly balanced in her hands and promptly fired it back at the burly chef.

Okay, here we go, thought Alessandro. He had seen this coming. It had started days before with the captain, clearly failing in her attempted diplomacy. "Tasty!” She had said. “But not quite perfect, to be honest.” Alessandro was just as Italian as Captain Buonavita, and he had to admit that the word "tasty" was not really suited to the "entrees" prepared by the cook. He just didn’t prepare Italian properly.

But for Alessandro, this was nothing more than a small, albeit unpleasant, problem. It was not a minor matter for Irene, who remained as stubborn as a Vulcan female, as mercurial as an Andorian female, and as capricious as a Human female ... indeed, as an Italian female, for she was an excellent cook and damn proud to be so. Of course, she understood what Chef had tried to do and appreciated it, but as she considered the art of cooking the queen of the arts, she wished that he would cease his attempts.

Today’s Picatta di Vitello had been barely edible. While the re-sequencer was a wonderful device, whoever had programmed it had never eaten veal. The stewards had told him that Chef had gone to great effort to prepare this meal for his new captain. His initial reaction had been cordial, but Alessandro read people well. He also knew his cousin, the captain, had missed the signals. She was a fine leader but had an abrasive personality at times. She didn't tolerate any imperfection, especially in cooking, and further didn't tolerate those who didn't tolerate not being tolerated.

Apparently the ship’s cook was not as accepting as the rest of the crew. Well, if he was certain of anything, it was that cooks act the same everywhere and he was positive Irene had never had one in her chain of command. It was easier for Captain Irene Buonavita to handle a Klingon Bird of Prey than an unskilled cook who was not willing to acknowledge her superior culinary talents, and Chef’s pride would not kowtow deferentially to her culinary virtuosity.

Oh well, he would prepare the transfer papers for Chef. He had managed to get some security people to quietly clear the mess hall. The stewards had risked life and limb in the galley clearing away the breakables and sharp objects.

“Waang!” He instinctively ducked as another pot flew into a bulkhead. He was fairly certain he could keep both combatants from pressing charges and was confident they would quit screaming at each other shortly. He knew the behavior was unprofessional for both, but apparently there was some frustration that needed release.

“Waaadingg” sounded, stirring him yet again from his musings. Their aim was getting worse, and that last one had barely missed him.

He stood straight up, staying behind a rather substantial rack, and shouted “Ten Hut!” Both captain and cook dropped their next projectiles and stiffened. Alessandro smiled, thinking thank goodness we are all military, that always works. Before either could realize what was going on, his security team was inside the galley and in between the antagonists. “Confine them to quarters,” he ordered.

Chef didn’t struggle, but Irene glared at her first officer momentarily until situational clarity hit her. Her eyes went wide as she surveyed the damage and the stains on her uniform. She quickly regained her professionalism, retreating into the captain’s mess hall.

Alessandro winked at Lt. MacGregor and nodded his head in mutual consent that the captain’s mess hall would constitute her quarters for the moment.

########

Admiral Black had finally made the time to see her. Trip had wanted to join her, but she reminded him she was Jupiter Station’s CO. She had spent a great deal of time organizing for this meeting. Her goal had been simple: try to get a definite mission out of Black. They had agreed to convene on Columbia, and only Lt. Cmdr. Reed had been with her to sweep the room, she had then asked him to leave.

She stood as the admiral entered the room. He motioned her to a seat and it began. “Well, Captain?”

“Admiral, who is currently in command of Jupiter Station?”

“Admiral Yamashita.”

“What activities are ongoing?”

“The construction of NX-03 Challenger, although I am informed progress has all but halted.”

“Sir, we will be arriving in four days. What are your instructions for me?”

Black leaned back in his chair and smiled. “You are direct, Captain. I will issue these orders in writing, but briefly: You are to take command of Jupiter Station. You are to make any and all personnel changes you see fit to expedite the launch of NX class ships. You may make any structural changes to the facility to implement the above. You are to augment the facility to begin construction of the new Starfleet Ship, class name to be determined. You are to make modifications to personnel and facilities as required for the new vessel. You will work with the following departments: Starfleet Security, BuLog, and BuPers to complete this mission. Jupiter Station will not be subject to any of those departments; it is to be a separate command under my direct authority. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Admiral. Commander Tucker asked me to ask you if you meant I had carte blanche?”

“You do.”

T’Pol handed Admiral Black a stack of PADDs. “In these you will find my initial requirements. These are your copies for approval.” Black accepted them without looking. “I am requesting that the facility be evacuated temporarily. I require a ten man security team under Lt. MacGregor to take possession of the facility upon his transfer from Enterprise. He will be performing a Level One security sweep. I will transmit this to Admiral Yamashita as soon as you approve.”

“The second PADD lists the officers and enlisted ranks I require. Where I have identified specific candidates, I ask they be made available. For the rest I desire to begin interviews upon my arrival. I will forward this request to BuPers upon your approval.”

“The third PADD contains a request for six Biloxi class ships to be made available and moved to the station to provide quarters. It also contains various logistical needs for the normal operation of the station. I will forward this to BuLog with your permission.”

“I anticipate sending additional requirements for your approval after a detailed assessment of the station by myself and my officers.” T’Pol stood and came to attention. “I have no further requirements at this time, sir.”

She watched as Black looked at the pile of PADDs on his desk and back at her, clearly overwhelmed. He picked the top PADD off the stack and started to read it, then put it down and seemed to collect his thoughts for a moment.

“Unless there is something in here you haven’t told me, I approve. I’ll get my aide back from his vacation and get the ball rolling. Good luck, Captain T’Pol.” Charles had been correct with his advice to take command aggressively. Now all she had to do was make it happen. She could feel Charles’ exhilaration through the bond. I am so proud of you, Honey. I knew you could do it.

#########

T’Pol was working in their quarters on the Ti’Mur when a new message arrived. “You may contact Admiral Yamashita at your convenience. He and I have reviewed your requests and fully agree. Additional approvals will be forthcoming. Apparently Enterprise’s Chef desires a transfer, advise me if you want him. Black.”

She sent a message to Admiral Yamashita. “Admiral, Please contact me at your earliest convenience, Captain T’Pol.” Her comm sounded within moments and Admiral Yamashita’s face appeared.

“Congratulations, Captain.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“I assume you wish to discuss Admiral Black’s orders. I have read them and am in complete agreement with your methods. I have your team assembled and understand Enterprise will be in system today. Lt. MacGregor is not aware of his relief. I suggest you contact him via Captain Buonavita.”

“Agreed.”

“As you suggested, we will close the facility following today’s work shift. Non-resident personnel will be notified upon their return to Earth. All resident staff will be relocated off station. It will be called a security sweep.

“Thank you, Admiral.”

“Captain, please let me know when you will be arriving at Jupiter Station. I will be handling the change in command ceremony. After that it’s all yours. Good luck. Yamashita out.”

She connected to Enterprise and Captain Buonavita. “Captain, I request permission to discuss Lt. MacGregor’s reassignment with him.” T’Pol noticed some odd stains on Captain Buonavita’s jumpsuit.

“One moment.” Buonavita called out to somebody behind her, and after a few moments MacGregor joined her in her mess.

Irene spoke after the door closed. “Lt. MacGregor, you are being transferred to Jupiter Station. Be advised I had decided to make a change before taking command of Enterprise due to your relative inexperience. I find myself regretting that decision, however it stands. I intend to put a favorable recommendation in your jacket. Thank you for your service aboard Enterprise.” She extended her hand and he shook it.

“Captain T’Pol, he is all yours. Do you wish me to leave?”

“That will not be necessary. Lt. MacGregor, you will be in charge of a team of security personnel who will be taking control of Jupiter Station later today. Your team will meet you there. Captain, can you provide a secure area where he may contact Lt. Cmdr. Reed for complete instructions?”

Irene nodded.

“Welcome aboard, lieutenant,” concluded T’Pol.

 ########

“All personnel are off the station except my security people, Commander,” Donal told Malcolm. “I request permission to clear quartermasters in to pack out some of the berthing spaces. I have three names.”

“I’ll have the captain cut the orders. Anything else you need?”

“No, sir. I should have clean comms in four hours. I have commandeered one of the conference rooms. Our first sweep is underway… so far nothing notable.”

“Keep me appraised. Reed out.” Malcolm sat back, not enjoying his role as a staff officer one bit. Additionally, he was going nuts. He missed Hoshi more than he wanted to admit. Now that they had spent time together without restrictions or interference, he knew she was it for him. He set those thoughts aside.

His mind returned to his current troubles. He was worried about what MacGregor might find and terrified about what he might miss. He was nevertheless excited about the new assignment at Jupiter Station. He was security chief for the most important project in Starfleet and the de facto first officer. He continued his musings as he sent MacGregor’s request to T’Pol. His comm rang soon after. He looked up to see Hoshi’s lovely face.

“Hi, Malcolm. Miss me yet?” His day had just improved.

 ########

Charles, I just received approval on the personnel portion of my request. You may contact Commander Kelby. The message came in clear through the bond. Suddenly he actually hoped the design meeting would end soon. He hadn’t had that thought in the last few days, as the group had been making continuous progress. They had decided that the ship would use an Earth name for its class, but the first ship would be called the ‘Manshir’. This contradicted tradition but seemed an acceptable compromise, all things considered. Apparently Captain Manshir had been a great hero in Andorian antiquity, and Shran had promised to give Trip a complete history lesson. The Andorians themselves were delighted with the decision.

Trip had decided to ask Malcolm for advice about the class name, to Malcolm's obvious pleasure. Trip wanted to take advantage of Malcolm’s knowledge of military history. He figured they could come up with something and spring it on Admiral Black, who had been pretty amenable lately. Better that than leave it to the brass to choose something.

The changes to the hull proposed by the Tellarites had allowed the engines to fit, and the Vulcan engineers, working with the Andorian engineers, were convinced that the resultant power could push the ship along somewhere around warp 6.3, pending simulations. Trip was certain everyone was being conservative. He was also certain there was going to be plenty of excess power for shields and weapons. He looked forward to hearing from the weapons group. All in all the ship looked to be a fast and maneuverable weapons platform. There were lots of compromises left to make, but he was positive they had their ship. An hour later the meeting adjourned for the day. He quickly returned to the Ti’Mur and called Kelby. Upon recognizing Trip’s face on the screen Kelby became guarded. “What can I do for you, Commander Tucker?”

“I want you to come work for me, Daniel.”

“Ah … Sir?”

“You’re the man I want. I can’t tell ya over these comms, but I think you’re gonna like the job… unless you can’t stand the idea of working for me. I will be in the Sol system in a couple of days and will make arrangements for ya to get to me. You can’t say anything to anybody just yet. Ya interested?” Trip eyed the engineer closely. He knew he had surprised him and hoped he hadn’t scared him off.

“Yes, sir.  I’m at the Montana Research facility. I look forward to meeting with you, sir.”

“Great, Daniel. I’ll get back to you.”

Trip sent his desire for his wife through the bond to call it a day and come home. He felt her reciprocal desire and smiled. T’Pol joined him in their quarters shortly thereafter. It was clear through the bond that she had had a most agreeable day and that he was likely to have a similar evening. A soon as the doors to their quarters closed she put some jazz music on and moved to him. The hugged each other tightly and began a slow dance in time with the music. It became a striptease as their bond began to resonate with mutual desire.

They had learned to keep the noise level down. T’Pol had conveyed to him only the day before that the Vulcan crew could detect the overwhelming emotions they were giving off. She also informed him that she did not care. He was her mate and that was that.

He laughed until he cried when his wife informed him of the query of one of the female Vulcan crewmembers whose wedding was nearing. She had clinically asked T’Pol whether her own future could be expected to yield such agreeable emotions, and how they might be controlled. T'Pol had informed her that it was between her and her future mate. T’Pol had also wished her good luck, indicating that such sayings were of human origin, with the excuse that some of her thought processes might have been corrupted by her husband.

########

Jon called to order the final meeting of the journey shortly after the “fleet” had dropped out of warp to make its way through the Sol system. All of the sub-groups had completed their efforts and sent their reports to him. The “Boss” group consisting of the Ambassadors, Admiral Black, General Winzern and Shran had declared themselves pleased with the work product - all except Soval, who had merely raised an eyebrow. Jon himself just wanted a chance to take the new ship out for a spin, er ...., test flight. He figured that if he kept Black in the dark he could exercise some influence over the builders.

Jon began. “Can we assume that all groups have seen each others' work?” Seeing nods from around the table, he turned to Admiral Black. “Admiral?”

Black moved to the head of the table. “I think we have a ship. I know there are many details left to work out, but I have one question: Can we build it quickly and in quantity?”

Ambassador Gral stood. “Admiral Black, I am certain that once we get a prototype we can produce at least two hulls a month. Vulcan can produce warp engines faster than that. I do recommend that we task some engineers to retro-fit the Vulcan engine into some dedicated cargo freighters to more quickly move the sub-assemblies to Jupiter Station. I also recommend we consider an additional assembly facility in the future.” Nods came from around the table and he sat down.

Black turned his gaze towards T’Pol. “Captain, can you build it?”

She stood and Gral’s aide punched a button. “These are the modifications Jupiter Station will require. We can begin adding the new berthing station in three weeks and will be ready for assembly in two months assuming the overall dimensions do not change appreciably.” She passed a PADD to the head of the table. “Here are the preliminary requirements.” She paused, thankful that Trip had pushed her to force the next question before the meeting and that Black had agreed. “I must insist that the coalition support this effort, with each species providing the specified personnel.” Trip handed her another stack of PADDs, which were passed to the rest of the “Bosses”.

Jon was taken aback but, remembered the famous line from the ancient French revolutionary Georges Jacques Danton “de l'audace, encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace.” He decided he enjoyed watching people squirm. The group could hardly refuse, and Shran broke the silence.

“Gral, do you have any Andorian ale on board?”

“Of course, Commander. I never know when I will have to subject myself to Andorians. I found a variety that is palatable and unlikely to damage the table if spilled.” Jon was now doing his best to suppress a laugh.

Gral mouthed something to an underling, and bottles and glasses were soon carried into the conference room.

Shran lifted his glass and looked to General Winzern, who nodded back at him. “Admiral Black, Andoria has asked that I thank you for your efforts.” They nodded at each other. “Commodore Archer, please stand.” Jon obediently climbed to his feet and looked at Shran uncertainly. “Commodore, four years ago I punched you in the face as we ransacked a Vulcan shrine. Recently you helped the Vulcans rediscover themselves, and shortly thereafter you salvaged relations between Tellar and Andoria by cutting off my antenna - which has still not grown back properly, I might add.” Fortunately, Shran was smiling.

“I have no doubt your skills will be further tested as we attempt to build a coalition from an unlikely collection of adversaries. I think we shall succeed, probably in spite of ourselves.” He looked around the table. “I pray the Romulans will not attack; I will mourn our dead if they do.” His face changed, and his antennae folded forward, signifying real aggression. “I swear here and now, that should they come I will neither pity them nor give them quarter. I offer a toast to the coalition regardless. May we grow together for a better future.” Glasses were drained. “I suggest we all have a lot of work to do.”

Black stood as Shran sat. “Thank you all; our business is concluded.”

########

Jon kept his thoughts to himself as he boarded his shuttle back to Columbia. He was proud and fearful; confident and worried. He knew his future would be busy. He pondered his best friends Trip and T’Pol, the struggles they had overcome and their mettle. He decided to borrow some courage from today’s meeting.

Erika met him at the airlock. “How’d it go?”

Jon looked at her. “Let’s go to your ready room and I’ll explain.”

When the door closed he turned and looked at her. “Erika, I think we’re gonna be okay, but I’m gonna need some help.” She looked at him oddly. He dropped to a knee. “I don’t have a ring for you yet, but I’ve wasted too much time trying to go this alone. Will you marry me?”

“Of course, Jon. You know I love you.” She beamed with joy. “What happened?”

“I think I finally get it. Remind me to thank Trip. He’s always been able to bring the best out of people, and I just watched his face while T’Pol was at her best. I have no doubt he pushed her into it. You should’ve seen it. Black told me how they act as a team, but even after all these years I think I really saw them in action today for the first time.

"Erika, I've been a fool. You make me a better person; I only hope I can help you, too.” He knew he was beginning to babble. Sometimes he couldn’t help himself.

“Shut up, Jon. You’re a far better man than you know; it just took you a long time to figure it out. Now get up here and kiss me.”

 _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: This is the end of “Forks in the Road” I hope you have enjoyed my tale. Needless to say, the journey continues in “Jupiter Aligns for Mars”.