...and Thanks for All the Fish

Posted on Tue Apr 1st, 2025 @ 7:06am by Lieutenant Roger Sea-Skunk & Lieutenant Katherine "Kit" Vulpes

1,726 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: All That Glitters Is Gibraltar
Location: Lt. Sea-Skunk's quarters

Kit shifted her tool bag to her other shoulder, tucking the rebreather helmet under her arm. She paused outside of Lt. Sea-Skunk's quarters, her wet suit giving a creak as she shifted her weight, reaching out to tap the door chime.

Lieutenant Roger Sea-skunk swam from one end of his personal pool to the other. He paused his pacing to gnaw at the replicated tuna floating at one end of the pool. He spat out the fish, which looked worst for the wear, as this was the fourth time he'd chewed on it. It still didn't taste any better.

"Where is that engineer?" he muttered to himself as he swam the length of his pool again.

He did a low breach of relief when the door chimed. He would have gone higher, but the ceiling was too low here.

"Enter," he called.

Kit smiled as she stepped into the room, her breath catching in the chill the tank created around the pool. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant." She set down both the helmet and tool bag by the edge of the tank and sat cross-legged next to her equipment. "I heard you had some issues with your replicator?"

"Yes," Roger said as he tossed the mangled tuna onto the deck next to Kit. "That doesn't taste right. None of the fish do. I've tried salmon, grouper, snapper, halibut, and cod. All taste bad."

He swam close so he could look her in the eye. "You've got to help, Lieutenant."

Kit dodged instinctually as 100 pounds of mangled fish carcass came sliding onto the deck next to her. While the universal translator in her combadge left something to be desired in regards to vocal inflection that was conveyed, she surmised from the orca's thrashing in the pool that he was agitated. She slid her tool bag in front of her, retrieving a tricorder, and began scanning the tuna. After a few moments, she scowled at her tricorder, and started the scan again.

"I believe what you're saying about the fish, Roger..." she trailed off as she whacked her tricorder on the side with the palm of her hand. "Tricorder shows that it's molecularly identical to a Yellowfin tuna." She gave a sigh of frustration and returned to her tool bag, pulling out a belt and wrapping it around her waist. She tucked in the tricorder and several other tools from the bag before grabbing her helmet. Sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet dangling in, she began attaching the helmet around her head. "When did you notice the change in taste?"

Roger settled next to the engineer. He looked at her with his right eye. He took a deep breath before he answered.

"It was after I got back from the surface, Lieutenant," he said. "Eating was good down there, but there wasn't any of my favorite fish available. I was really craving it. Only it was disgusting."

With the flip of a switch, the mask created a vacuum around her face, and the cool oxygen hit her skin. "I didn't realize you were down on the planet's surface with us," Kit said, her voice carrying the metallic undertones created by the mask's com unit. She seated herself on the lip of the pool and slid into the water. "I had hoped for more time to use the com unit I was MacGuyvering to make sure we'd found all of the stranded crew members, but the battle happened, and I had to take that one shot with the com to contact the ship." She smiled through the glass of the mask. "I'm glad you were able to make it aboard."

With a kick, Kit pushed herself from the wall of the pool and ducked below the water, scoping out the location of the underwater replicator.

Roger turned to watch the engineer, twisting slightly to keep his eye underwater. He drifted closer to the side of the pool above the replicator.

"Aye, I was down there," the orca said. "I found myself just south of Iceland. I still had my communicator implant, and while I wasn't able to contact anyone, I was getting intermittent signals. It took me several months to track them."

He moved his head to slosh water onto the eye that was exposed to the air.

"I finally made contact with Lieutenant Commander Foster on the night before the battle. We agreed to talk afterward, if he survived."

"I wonder if the intermittent signals you were picking up were my unsuccessful attempts at boosting one of the com badges enough to reach the ship." Kit's chuckle fogged up her view plate for a moment, just as she reached the replicator. She attached a tether from her belt to the wall console, keeping her from floating away as she worked. "I was able to melt down a few pips and parts from one of the crew badges, and it took me several weeks to get any kind of reliable signal out of it. I was finally able to contact the ship right in the midst of the battle--right before I was thrown overboard."

She shifted in the water, turning to look up at the Lieutenant. "I'm sorry that we couldn't find you faster. I sent out signals as often as I could without risking someone seeing me and changing the timeline." She paused. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get the badge boost to work, and that you suffered because of it."

"I wouldn't say that I suffered," Roger said. "The food was good, and the company was fine, even if the North Atlantic pods of my people are a little odd."

He swam to the far end of the pool and back. Remembering the experience gave him a nervous energy that he needed to release.

"I think I was picking up your attempts with the communicator. I kept losing the signal. Then, on the day before the battle, I received a signal that was strong. I couldn't understand what was being said, but I was able to track it to the fleet," he continued. "There was another strong yet incomprehensible signal after sunset, which allowed me to narrow my search. I tried to open a channel without success."

As Roger churned the water in the pool, Kit gripped onto the handhold mounted on the side of the tank for support, holding tightly to her tricorder so she didn't drop it down into the tank. "That-" she laughed as she lurched sideways, "that was definitely me. We only got a couple of days on land to work, and I had to do what I could while hiding in a dark corner of a rollicking boat so that nobody could find me. I was trying to boost for a much longer signal to reach the ship through whatever the interference was blocking our communication with the ship.

Her next scan of the replicator turned up nothing, so she clipped the tricorder to her belt and opened up the control panel, starting up a diagnostic. She chewed over what he had said for a moment. "Would you say that the food on the planet or the food from the replicator tasted better?"

"I'd say the food on the surface was better," Roger replied. "But that's the way, isn't it? That fresh food is generally better than replicated. Or is it different for air-dwellers?"

He thought about it for a moment. "I suppose it would be, to a certain extent," he continued. "You like to eat food that's been cooked."

Kit gave a giggle, which sent out bubbles from the mask. “Sometimes humans eat raw foods, too. But I agree…replicated food was hard to get used to when I left my home planet.” She stopped her scan, turning around to face the Orcan officer. “Do they ever bring in fresh fish for you?”

"Not officially," Roger replied. "But Dipper, the dolphin nurse, raises herring in an aquaculture net in his quarters. He shares with the rest of us sometimes. It's more of snack for me."

Kit swiveled, holding onto her tether as she examined the tank. "I mean, I'm no marine biologist, and I'm not in charge of Ops, but you would think that with multiple aquatic-based officers serving on the ship, we could manage a regular supply of live fish." She leaned her back against the side of the tank, hooking her toes in one of the hand holds. "If I can be honest, Lieutenant, the replicator checks out. But, if I had to manage a guess, I suspect that the problem is most likely that the fish doesn't exactly, well...fish."

"You may be right about that," Roger replied. "I had months of fresh food, and I come back to the replicated version. Do you think there's a way to improve the quality of our food?"

Kit tapped her finger on the chin of her rebreather mask, thoughtfully. "I may have to work with the science department on what the chemistry of that might involve. I can do my best to see what they can come up with--and maybe that's something we can implement on a wider scale for the replicators." She shifted her feet, hooking her toes on one of the handholds. "I know our transporters are fighting through whatever interference made it difficult to transport the crew back, but if we can break through the interference, maybe I can see about beaming up something fresh. We might be able to fabricate a storage tank for larger fresh supplies--maybe something with a lid to keep them from sloshing out should we encounter any turbulence."

"Sloshing wouldn't be a problem," Roger replied. "We keep our quarters in place, after all. But fresh food tanks...that would be fine. I'm sure tuna or salmon or halibut or whatever else wouldn't mind replicated food. I'm sure all of us on the cetacean crew would appreciate it. We'll have to ask about it. Thank you, Engineer."

Kit smiled. "I'll keep working on trying to cut through the interference. I'm not sure what pulled us into this timeline, but they seem to be still fussing with our ship's systems. As soon as we get things under control again, the fishtank will be at the top of my priority list." She kicked herself free, swimming up towards the surface.

 

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