Moving Right Along
Svetlana, perfectly happy to begin a discussion on the various differences between twenty-three and twenty-four year old bourbons found herself distracted by the appearance of Admiral Johnson. She slid a hand into her pocket and tapped a few commands into the toolbot’s remote. She downed the last of her drink in a single gulp and slid to the edge of the group that had grown around Diziara. Carefully suppressing the training that was causing her to tense. Her orders were specific and however much she might enjoy bending Starfleet’s rules, she knew better than to improvise on Uncle Gregorov’s directions.
She saw Johnson pick a table and send one of his people for drinks at the same time her toolbot, having borrowed the ship’s transporters, appeared next to her foot and tugged on her pant leg. She stooped and took the carving out of its pincers and, a plan developing rapidly, retrieved a small sonic resonator from the robot’s chest cavity. Then she started working her way through the crowd.
Svetlana intercepted the drink man on his way back to the Admiral’s table and, aiming carefully, triggered the resonator. The drink man stopped and, she knew from experience, crossed his eyes. Looking around desperately he spotted her and shoved the drinks at her.
“Admiral’s table!” he gasped, “I have to go!” And then ran for the door.
Svetlana took the drinks with a smile. He would be in the bathroom for ten minutes or so emptying his suddenly unruly bladder but would suffer no long-term ill effects.
Reaching the table she was pleased to find the Admiral and his cohorts deep in conversation and distributed the beverages without interrupting them. She set the Admiral’s drink down last, putting the carving on the table next to it and said quietly, “Admiral, for you.” Then she slid back into the crowd, resisting the urge to look back and watch his reaction when he noticed the perfectly carved ballet dancer for the first time. She could only hope that his confusion would be covering the first uncomfortable squirm of worry.
Now Svetlana found herself at a loss. Supposedly this was a surprise promotion party. She hadn’t heard anyone yelling surprise and no one seemed to be having any great amount of fun. In fact one Andorian woman seemed to be near tears. This simply would not do.
Moments later Svetlana was back next to Diziara, this time with a covered plate. “For a surprise party this could use some livening up I am thinking. Congratulations by the way.” She nodded to Diziara. “I propose a contest to see who can eat the most of these.” Svetlana pulled the cover off the plate with a flourish, revealing six small fried dumplings.
“What are they?” Asked a young man wearing cargo pants.”
“Gyana Pakora. The Pakora of Enlightenment.” Svetlana replied. “Some people describe them as spicy, kind of like eating a porky, purcu,” she stumbled over the word, “A hedgehog. One of my cousins, Katerina I think it was, called them the Pakora of Melt Face.”