[Cardassia] "Stew Surprise"

[Richard Brown]

With a loud splosh noise the ladel’s contents were spewed over the meal tray. Gil Jarat gave it a disapproving glare. He looked up at the Chef, then back at the food. “What did this used to be .....originally?” He asked as the queue of lower ranking Cardassian Officers looked over his shoulder in horror.   As he was first in the queue there was some general consensus that Jarat had pulled the lucky straw. It was the lower ranks at the end of the queue who would be lumbered with the slop at the bottom of the stew pot, which invariably contained more of the meat from today’s culinary delight.

The Chef shrugged. “Stew surprise.” He said, then looked irritated.

“Its still moving.” Jarat observed as he frowned at the brown mass.

“Thats the surprise.”

Jarat nodded. “Yes. That seems a fair assessment. ....Is it edible?”

The Chef sighed and looked at the Central Command guidelines that came with the food batch. He took a moment to read through the safety highlights as Jarat waited patiently.  “..... visual hallucinations....occasional explosive diarrhea.... Partially edible yes, you should be fine...” The Chef muttered with satisfaction as he read through the notes.

“Partially?!?!”

“Says it comes from Frigia. Some sort of egg laying mammal.” The Chef said as he continued to read the warning labels. “On no wait... the notes says I’m not supposed to tell you that....I’m supposed to say that it’s stewed Cardassian Marmaas.”

“Marmaas?!?! It’s not even vaguely like Marmaas.” Jarad said angrily. “Are the military cutbacks so serious that we can’t even get Cardassian meat on board now?!?!”

The chef rolled his eyes and read through the answer checklist that came with the guidelines. “You want it or not?”

“It’s moving! It’s moving on my f**king plate!!” Jarad said in horror. “Oh for crying...it’s damn tentacle is stroking my hand.....” He said with gritted teeth.

“It’s an involuntary muscle spasm....it’s dead I assure you....” The Chef said with as much honesty as he had, then checked the guidelines again. “Would you like to report your complaint to the nearest Command level Officer?”

Jarat gave this serious consideration... “Death by tentacle or death by firing squad....” He mumbled and walked off with tray in hand. Hearing the chef say something about ‘another satisfied customer’ he slumped down on one of the many benches reserved for his ‘esteemed’ rank.   Gil Kortud and Gil Marash soon joined him, similarly holding a meal tray of stew surprise.  “Gentlemen, ....times are hard.” He suggested to his colleagues.

Kortud cocked his head and lifted a tentacles with his fork.

Jarat, deciding that he was better off stealing a ration pack out of stores, he pushed the plate away. “Please, by all that is holy, tell me that the Federation will provide us with decent food?”

Marash, the more staunch supporter of the central command shook his head. “A soldier’s life is one or duty in the face of adversity. We are a privileged few!!  We should be grateful for the consideration of being fed this day!”

Jarat gave the fellow Gil a suspicious look. “You are aware of the eyeball looking at you from your meal plate, yes?”

“I am. And I am grateful for the protein, Comrade!” Marash protested.

“Marash...your food is blinking at you....Does this not bother you?” Jarat asked pointing at the plate.

“That just means it’s fresh.” Marash reasoned. “Stop complaining and enjoy our feast!”

“He’s been watching historic central command training orientations for the Bajoran invasion again...” Kortud said to Jarat and shook his head. “I told him they are filled with Obsidian order subliminal messages, but he just wouldn’t listen....” He said and watched Jarat cup his eyes in his hand. “As to if the Federation will, or will not feed us better than this slop, I cannot answer.” Said the field medic.

“Or actually pay us this month....” Jarat added.

“That point is not also applicable.” Kortud conceded.

“We are paid in the honor of serving our nation!” Gil Martash protested. “Monetary payment is of no concern to those on the front line defence of our proud people!” He said and promptly swallowed an eyeball.

“Is he going to be ok?” Jarat asked and shook his head in shame.

Marash shrugged. “Eventually yes...” the medic hazarded a guess. “I saw the Starfleet man. McPherson. The Gul was taking him on an inspection of the ship’s medical centre.”

“And he definitely didn’t mention if we were to be paid?” Jarat asked.

Kortud laughed. “If only my friend.” He replied and deciding he has better off starving, pushed his meal away.

A loud gurgling noise came from the direction of Martash’s stomach, he looked ready to hurl. “Comrades. Cast your doubts aside for....for the.....glory...” He slurred and clutched his stomach.  “Comrade Jarat, is there a parrot on your shoulder?”

Jarat sighed. “So how is it supposed to work? Do we just wear their uniforms from now on? Or can we choose to remain in the Cardassia prime defence forces?” He asked.

“Central Command has already started reassigning personnel. The majority of the older ships will be assigned to Starfleet for patrol duties. They have said that the integration of the Cardassian military and Starfleet will take place over a number of years, it’s all  been scheduled.”

“My insides ....I feel like I’ve swallowed acid.... what are those strange lights...” Martash asked and tried to swat something invisible out of the air.

“Will we be required to wear their uniform? Ranks?” Jarat asked.

“Initially no.” Kortud shook his head. “But eventually yes. A Gil, such as ourselves would probably be the equivalent of one of their Ensigns or a Lieutenant junior grade.”

“What about back-pay?”Jarat asked. “We haven’t been paid in months.”

Kortud shook his head. “I have no idea. But my cousin has visited Risa, he said the Federation looked pretty efficient.... That might be a good sign....” He said and watched Martash stagger out of his chair and run for the door, whilst clutching his own ass. He shook his head and sighed. “I suppose I should help him.... But I feel it it is a cruel, yet inevitable fate, I should not interfere with.”

“Wise move.” Jarat agreed. “Well if they don’t pay us for the back-pay I imagine the government is looking at a sizeable public disorder problem. For that matter...If they can’t pay their own military, they certainly can’t be paying the civil service...there must be riots on the streets....”

“Nobody I know has received mail in a week...It’s difficult to gauge what is going on on the homeworld.” The medic suggested.  “Nor is the Gul or our guest letting on anything.”

“McPherson.”

Kortud nodded. “Yes. Rumour has it he is Starfleet’s point-man in Cardassia. Assessing which ships and starbases Starfleet will requisition. Not all of it is necessary....some are surplus to requirements as an accountant might say....There could be some lay offs... ”

“So our new employers from Earth get the final say on if we still have a job at the end of the day?” Jarat asked

“I’m sure we will soon find out.” Kortud suggested with a grim tone.

Jarat sighed. “I really don’t care what uniform they put me in....so long as they pay us on time and we don’t have to eat food that wants to stroke our hands.... What i want, is for things to get better!” He complained as the red alert klaxon started blaring. <<Cardassian expletive.>> Jarat muttered.