NOTICE: This log is rated “CA” for culinary action. Additionally, the producers of this log wish to state that no real tomatoes or other defenseless vegetables were unduly harmed in the production of this log and that this log may not be suitable for strict vegetarians. Reader discretion is NOT advised. Thank you.
## Galley – USS Charon ##
“Hey Chef”, whaddya want me to do with all this left over chili? I don’t think it was a hit with the crew”, a cook said pointing to a large greasy pot brimming with bubbling tomato based broth.
Chef sighed. Someone had changed his daily special sign out front which had doubled the number of grumbles and complaints he had received. If he ever found out the name of the wise guy was responsible they would be in for some extra ingredients in their meal.
“It wasn’t that bad”, Chef said. “It just had some kick.”
The cook didn’t seemed convinced relaying an expression that spoke volumes about what he was really thinking. “Chef, this stuff could melt the bulkheads. Forget five alarms this stuff is more like ten. Now that it has had time to cure it’s twice as potent...and deadly.” The cook placed a hand on his stomach still feeling the burn after eating a few bowls himself.
“Alright fine”, Chef said giving in. “Toss it all back into the replicator. The Klingons seemed to like it just fine, but I don’t want to be responsible for landing half the crew in sickbay since you feel it has that potential. Go ahead and get rid of it.”
A sudden unexpected lurch rocked the galley sending pots and pans against each other and knocking several dishes to the floor. A large pot of soup overflowed spilling over into the stove and onto the floor creating a slippery mess.
“What the hell is the Captain doing up there”, the chef barked into the air as the Charon stabilized. “Are we racing Romulans now?”
“Is it just me or does something not sound right”, one of the cooks mentioned as she leaned against a counter listening to the sounds of the ship.
“Yeah, sounds like we’re at warp but it’s different somehow. What gives?”
Suddenly the muffled sounds of shouts and loud voices could be heard from outside the galley. “Wait here”, Chef said. “I’m gonna take a look.”
Clad in a greasy white apron, Chef stepped out of the galley and into the mess hall which was unfortunately...a mess. Most of the crew was gone except for Lt. Graham who was on her third vanilla sundae. Where did she put it, he wondered.
The vibrations of the ship had sent dozens of un-bussed tables and their unwashed plates and glasses to the floor. Chef sighed as he viewed the carnage and utter destruction before him in the mess hall. It would take days to get the stains out of the carpeting...again.
There were several shouts outside in the hall. Chef quickly moved and peered around the corner. To his horror two armed Romulans mowed down several crew with their emerald weapons. Chef stood frozen in horror as the guards turned. They quickly spotted him in his apron and chef’s hat peaking around the corner of the door. Chef threw himself backwards as a disruptor beam sliced through the air. The beam grazed the edge of his hat instantly scorching most of it before it fell to the deck reduced to burning embers.
Wasting little time Chef bolted back into the Galley.
“We’ve got uninvited guests inbound”, he yelled at the cooks bursting through the silver double doors.
“The Captain wants something to eat...NOW”, one of the cooks asked.
“No you idiots, we’ve been boarded by Romulans! And they’re right outside the doors!”
A nearby cook grabbed a large, threatening chef knife while the other cook picked up a rolling pin.
“I don’t think those are going to help you knuckleheads. They’ve got rifles! I just saw them shoot two crewmen”, Chef yelled searching frantically in a drawer for his phaser. Where had he put it? He couldn’t find it. “Damn it”, he yelled throwing spoons, spatulas, and whisks into the air desperately searching for his issued sidearm.
A green beam cut through the swinging double doors of the galley hitting a hanging pot instantly vaporizing it. The nearby cooks hit the floor vanishing from view. Chef wrapped his hand around a small sauté pan and dove for a corner between a stove and one of the counters and pushed his body as far as it would go into it.
The two Romulan soldiers kicked open the doors standing at the entrance to the Galley their weapons at the ready. Chef quickly peaked around the corner of the stove. He had to do something fast or else he and his staff would end up on the menu cooked “well-done” by the Romulan’s insidious weaponry. A cup lay nearby on the floor. Chef grabbed it holding it against his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he could see two of his cooks across the aisle armed with the large knife and rolling pin. They pointed at him and the cup he was holding. He thought one of them mouthed the word, “Distraction”. Chef got the message and took one last peak as the Romulan soldiers slowly made their way inside.
Gripping the cup he threw is as hard as he could at the metallic refrigeration door. The metallic cup banged loudly before hitting the floor. A jade beam cut across the galley slamming into the refrigeration unit. Then there were footsteps. They grew louder and louder. Chef gripped his sauté pan with both hands. Out of the corner of his eye a single boot appeared next to him.
Then another. Chef looked up into the eyes of one of the Romulans who stood smirking above him. Chef growled and threw the full force of his body into the frying pan aiming for the Romulan’s knees. There was a loud pop as metal stuck bone. The soldier cried out in pain. Chef moved out of the corner and noticed the floor behind the sinister soldier.
Chef, seizing the moment, lunged at the Romulan. The soldier hobbled backwards to miss the Chef’s attack his boot making contact with the oily, slippery floor where the pot of soup had earlier be spilled. The soldier slipped backwards his weapon firing as he fell. With a loud crash he fell into the nearby stove where more scalding soup sloshed from the bubbling and onto the Romulan causing him to cry out in agonizing pain.
Chef dropped to the deck as another beam sailed through the air just missing his head. The second soldier yelled out firing randomly into the metal counter separating him from his comrade. Chef scrambled back toward the safety of the corner as green beams tore through the counters around him.
“HEY UGLY”, one of the cooks yelled standing up from his hiding place. “SAVOR THE FLAVOR!”
A ladle of flamin' hot ten-alarm chili sailed through the air catching the second Romulan soldier in the face. The soldier instantly clutched and clawed at his eyes and nose as the intense peppery blend of 7 secret herbs and spices quickly went to work inflaming the nostrils and eyes of its latest victim.
His weapon clattered to the ground as the two cooks rushed him. A loud crack filled the air as one of the cooks brought his rolling pin down against the head of the incapacitated and stunned soldier. Seconds later the Romulan fell to the deck unconscious.
The cook stood over his body with a smug look of satisfaction. “The rolling pin IS mightier than the sword”, he proclaimed triumphantly.
“Well Chef”, the other cook said collecting one of the rifles. “Looks like we found a new use for that chili of yours. It’s a weapon of cataclysmic proportions!”
“See”, Chef said standing up. “It does have some kick.”
“CHEF”, the cook suddenly yelled out. “BEHIND YOU!”
Chef turned as the first Romulan stood up and lunged at him. Gripping his sauté pan, Chef took a golf club like swing catching the soldier in an uppercut with his pan sending him crashing to the deck for a second time – this time for good.
“Damn Romulans”, one of the cooks said stepping over.
“We outta fillet this bastard right here and put him on the menu.” He looked at the soup that had splashed over the soldier. “He’s already seasoned.”
“Probably just tastes like chicken”, the other cook added. “We had that last night.”
Chef set down his new lucky pan. His heart was still racing. “After what they did to the crew outside we should barbeque their asses.”
Chef shrugged. “Fine time to be boarded. What the hell is going on!” You and you”, he said grabbing one of the large soldiers boots. “Help me move them.
We’ll lock them both in the freezer until help arrives. That should cool down their tempers for awhile.”
“Romulans on ice?”
“No, how about iced Romulan?”
“Hey not a bad idea for a cocktail or something.”
Chef shook his head. “Come on you two. Let’s get them secured then you can talk about drinks. Heaven knows I need one after this.”
“We’re under surprise attack...Romulan Surprise?”
“No, too confrontational”, the other cook replied as he dragged a body. “If we win, it’ll have to be Romulan Flambé.”
Chef groaned. With names like that for dishes it wasn’t the Romulans he would have to worry about. He really needed that drink right about now.
## END LOG ##
“THE CHEF” and supporting Cooks