B and C in Mess Hall #3

Posted on Wednesday, 1 July 2020 - 12:53pm by Lieutenant Aristede Hobbes

Mission: Operation: Jabberwocky
Location: Mess Hall #3, Starbase 118
Timeline: Mission Day 0

ON

The Gamma Shift engineers under Lapid's command (and for that you can read, thumb) congregated in one of the mess halls at the end of shift for B&C. Breakfast and Countdown. Aside from individual meals, there was always an odd assortment of entrees, loosely fitting under the category of breakfast, that were shared by the table. Hobbes, who had no such food-related memories to offer, enjoyed nearly everything that was offered ... so long as it didn't move or look as though it could move.

The deal was this. Everyone ordered breakfast and sat down. The plates were passed from person to person, once for the longest number of months anyone had to wait. Hobbes, being the newest, brought the number of passes up to eleven. He passed and wished, not for the first time, that he had less time because some of the meals looked mighty appetizing as they whizzed on by.

Conversation flagged this morning as it often did before food and coffee though privately Hobbes thought it had something to do with the pass. The combination of frustration and righteous anger all but precluded conversation for a bit. And so, he ate. Having grown up in the Bershard Traveling Circus, he understood as few in the Federation never would, the value of a good meal. There had been weeks when the company lived on beans while the clowns worked the markets, gathering good will and a bit of food. He went as well. The crowds might be drawn by his youth but they stayed for the range of tricks he could perform. Gymnastics, ballet, and Papa's relentless training regimen had given him a repertoire that brought in sacks of vegetables and the occasional bit of latinum.

One by one the forks went down and a second round of coffee was poured; this was the indication that it was time to talk. They shared details on the work they had done and compared notes. Two of the routines he had completed had been done by another at the table the week before and this was not uncommon. All part of life under Lapid. When the reports dwindled, Weyan spoke up.

"Got this friend," he said at last after clearing his through several times, no doubt to dislodge the fear climbing inside him, "who works in Security." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper and the rest of the group, Hobbes included, found themselves leaning forward. "He's promised to look into the situation."

Pointed looks were shared. This too was not uncommon. "If you're caught," someone ventured, "if it gets traced back to you, you'll be stuck here another year."

Weyan nodded. "I know and I've made my peace with it. Its not right. You all know it isn't. I mean to do something about it."

"I've been gathering information," Hobbes said quietly. "Might help with the investigation."

Heads swiveled in his direction. "Wasn't going to say anything," Hobbes said, "least not until I do whether it would work or not. Stop by my quarters and I'll give you what I have."

Weyan nodded and conversation turned to less dangerous pathways. The upcoming LaCrosse game against science, mock and pizza (where they gathered to mock old, B-movies and eat pizza), and reminders to log in their PMs for a chance at the most number of duplicate routines performed. And of course, jokes. There seemed to be always something to laugh about; Hobbes liked that especially.

OFF

Lieutenant Aristede Hobbes
Nobody Special Gamma Shift Engineer
Starbase 118