Fandom: Star Trek
Word count: 971
Prompts: Meme #6 It was the best meal you've ever had for a_muse_meme
Notes: No notes. No warnings. Just a little snarkfest between Spock and McCoy on an away mission. We don't need no stinking Prime Directive.
I was relieved when we finally made it to the home of the natives assisting us. My hip injury was quite painful, and were it not for my ‘damned’ Vulcan stoicism I would have requested more of the doctor’s concoctions, but I had no wish to lose my ability to focus.
The previous overdose was an indicator that all of the doctor’s equipment had been damaged when we were captured, or perhaps the same field that hampered our ability to transport was affecting them. Phasers on stun had not been able to stop the group that attacked us, and I had been reluctant to order the security team to use the kill setting. That decision cost them their lives. I thought it was the native’s physiology but now I believe it is the planet itself that hampers our technology.
“Spock. Eat something,” McCoy said as he handed a black ceramic bowl to me filled with some kind of stew. The bowl was smoothly glazed, and had been turned on a potter’s wheel. I poked at the food with the spoon that was stuck in it, checking to see what the ingredients were. “I already checked. It’s not toxic to humans or Vulcans.”
I glanced up at the doctor and continued to examine the stew.
“There’s no meat in it either. I asked,” the doctor added as he settled down with a bowl of his own that had a leg of some creature poking out of the stew. “Not even in the broth, and the bread is safe for you too.”
“Thank you, doctor. That was considerate of you.” I was hungry and grateful that he thought of it. “But then you are an extremely competent physician in most cases.” I waited until his mouth was full of meat before I said it.
“It was an accident.” He glared at me, chewing quickly and forced a swallow before replying to me. “Our equipment doesn’t work right here.”
“Yes, that was my conclusion as well. I no longer trust the scans that I was taking with my tricorder. I may have taken us off course.” In normal circumstances my sense of direction is sound, but on this planet after being in an enclosed wagon on winding roads, there is no telling where we are.
“So, you’re saying that we’re lost? Well that’s just wonderful, Spock. When were you going to tell me that?” He snapped, letting his spoon drop back into his bowl.
“I suspected it before, but I did not confirm it until now. I told you as soon as I was certain of the facts. And if you recall I was not capable of coming to any conclusions earlier when I was medicated.”
While he fumed, I took a spoon of the vegetable soup. It had a strong flavor, and it was filled with an abundance of a tangy root vegetable that reminded me of a parsnip and the Vulcan andawar. It was quite good, and I began to wonder if I couldn’t get seeds from these people to bring to the new Vulcan colony.
When Vulcan was destroyed, we managed to save most of our culture. There was a sufficient gene pool among the survivors to continue our species. But most of our native flora and fauna was lost other than a spattering of survivors in various zoos, exhibits and laboratories around the Federation. As a people we had always been careful not to contaminate the planets we explored. We did our best to never leave a trace of our passing unless they had warp capabilities. That care went beyond avoiding the spread of our culture to making certain that we did not accidentally spread virus and bacteria. Because of that, we were limited in our options for enjoying quite a few of our traditional foods.
“Well what about that,” the doctor said with a snort. “You must like the soup. You haven’t said a word, and you’ve almost finished it.”
“I do indeed,” I said after swallowing. “Once we establish a relationship with the government of this planet, I would like to procure seeds or seedlings for the Vulcan colonies.”
“So much for a quiet little excursion, huh?” He handed me a piece of bread. It smelled sharp, much like the sour dough bread that we had in San Francisco. It was one of my favorite things about Earth.
“Yes, our being captured did cause complications. It may very well be a violation of the Prime Directive.”
“As if it was our fault they attacked us,” McCoy pointed out and then smiled over at our hosts. “They don’t seem very interested in us. Want to know what I think?”
“I think you’d tell me whether I wanted you to or not, Doctor.”
“True.” He dipped his bread into his soup and took another bite before going on. “I don’t think we were here first. They were practically waiting for us. Enterprise had to leave orbit. I think someone else is down here, and they don’t want the Federation here.”
“Your logic is sound.” It was. “Perhaps we should not have escaped. If they still had us, we would more than likely know who the others are.”
“We’d also be chained up in a dungeon, getting tortured.” He smiled at the young female who approached us with mugs of hot tea. “This is better.”
“I concur.” I sipped the tea. “Now we must decide whether to wait at the rendezvous point for Enterprise or…”
“Go where they were taking us, avoiding the chains and prison of course.”
“Of course.” I had already made my decision to make our way to the main city, but the doctor would argue with me less if he thought he had a say. “But tonight we will eat and sleep in a safe, dry place.”