Ensign Mi'shune sh'Sonora - Munchies With Munshi

[d.reinhart]

((Officer’s Mess Hall, Deck 11, Command Center, Starbase 118))

The life of a Starfleet Pilot. It wasn’t all daring atmospheric dives into hell planets or breaking warp-speed records. Everyone wanted to be in the pilot’s seat, but nobody had dreams of being part of the long logistical and coordinational chain that made the flight transit possible, much less safe, in Federation space.

FLY-CON, responsible for all space flight traffic within a 100,000 kilometer vicinity, and the plotting and coursing of several major intersecting spacelanes, was Ensign Mi’shune sh’Sonora’s latest assignment, having been grounded while the inquiries involving several dozen spacelane accidents filtered through SB118’s JAG office. As one of the many affected by the memory suppression responsible for all those accidents, and being one causing one of those accidents herself, Starfleet had to put her expansive (and expensive) flight training to some use. So she was in FLY-CON, assisting space-traffic control.

She knew, at an intellectual level, it was an important job.

The adrenaline junkie in her, however, contemplated a deep brainpan cleaning with a type two phaser. Paperwork and talking to contentious, impatient aliens while preventing their ships from bumping into each other was BORING!

Essential work, she reminded herself. Do her time, let the JAGS declare her case force majeure, and she could get back to zipping around on shuttlecraft soon enough.

Until then, her lunch break couldn’t come fast enough.

When she was freed from FLY-CON’s bureaucratic clutches she rushed to the command section mess hall, ready to make the most of her break with a PADD loaded with reading material and a need to fuel the fast-burning Andorian metabolic tank.

It was on her way to the replicator that she spied a familiar face.

Not the one she would choose first, but a familiar sight was better than trying to chat up a stranger.

She also had a promise to keep with this particular subject. Her fingers flew on the replicator panel, a steaming mound of tuber roots, steak-cut and fried to a golden crisp, slathered with a crimson, meaty sauce floating with kidney beans, massed meat chunks, and rivulets of melted yellow cheese. She strode to her hapless victim, stopping to turn around and replicate two forks, essential for the culinary experience. Then returned for two napkins, essential for its aftermath.

Swooping in on her victim’s table was as simple as a hawk ambushing a pigeon. She was in ‘her’ seat quicker than he could react.

The way she was at rest and casual, after being such a blur of activity, must have involved some kind of inertial dampner.

sh’Sonora: Hiya. Remember me?

Munshi: ?

sh’Sonora: Well, I remember you, Mister Munshi, Sir. ::She tapped the side of the jumbo plate of Denebian chili cheese fries with her fork.:: And I haven’t forgotten our promise either. Barring any dietary requirements and all, but that’s okay this comes in vegan too, though technically all replicator food’s vegan if you ask me. Still down to share a meal and chat a bit?

Munshi: ?

The excitable Andorian squeaked with delight. Her fork stabbed into the congealing mess, fresh steam rising from the hole she made in the mass. 

sh’Sonora: Soooooo… wha’cha up to?

Munshi: ?

TBC

Ensign Mi’shune sh’Sonora

Helm Officer

Starbase 118 - Ops Department

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