You’re telling me I just bullied the replicator into giving me *kid food*?
Posted on Fri Nov 14th, 2025 @ 4:24pm by Tristi Richardson & Selari Vonn
Mission:
Season 6: Episode 6: Conglomerate
Location: Crew Lounge, near science
Timeline: MD3 - Lunch time
509 words - 1 OF Standard Post Measure
The lounge buzzed softly with mid-shift life: the clatter of trays, snippets of laughter, and the hum of background conversation layered under the ship’s constant heartbeat. It wasn’t loud, not after the last few weeks — the crew still spoke in gentler tones, as if afraid to break the fragile calm that had settled since the Galtonian attack.
Tristi hovered near the replicator, brow furrowed as she jabbed the panel like it had personally offended her.
“Come on, work, you heap of— oh. There.” The slot shimmered and produced what could generously be called a sandwich. “Mystery meat special,” she muttered, grabbing it before the system could second-guess her.
At a nearby table, Selari looked up from a data padd, her tea steaming quietly. “You realise,” she said, voice even as ever, “that you just ordered from the children’s nutritional template.”
Tristi blinked. “Wait, what?” She looked down at the sandwich. “You’re telling me I just bullied the replicator into giving me *kid food*?”
Selari raised one elegant brow. “Affirmative.”
Tristi stared at it for a moment, then took a bite anyway. “Could be worse.”
Selari inclined her head slightly, the Vulcan equivalent of amusement. “An efficient philosophy.” She gestured to the seat opposite her. “You may join me, if you wish.”
“Gee, thanks,” Tristi said around a mouthful of bread, dropping into the chair with a thud. “What’s your poison today?”
“Vulcan spice tea and steamed grains,” Selari replied. “It is nutritionally optimal.”
“Sounds awful,” Tristi said cheerfully. “You should try fries sometime. Or sugar. Or joy.”
Selari looked up from her padd. “I am aware of joy.”
“Uh-huh. Ever *tasted* it?”
For a heartbeat, Selari said nothing — then, to Tristi’s astonishment, she reached over, took half the sandwich from her hand, and took a precise, tiny bite.
Selari chewed thoughtfully. “It is… less unpleasant than expected.”
Tristi grinned. “Careful, you’ll ruin your reputation as the ship’s quiet genius.”
“Reputation is irrelevant,” Selari said primly, but her mouth curved just slightly. “Though I will note the sodium content is alarming.”
“See? You *did* enjoy it.”
“Statistically improbable,” Selari replied — but she didn’t hand the sandwich back.
For a while, they ate in comfortable silence. Tristi watched the other tables — a couple of engineers laughing softly, two nurses sharing coffee — and felt something she hadn’t felt since before the attack. *Normalcy.* Just people living, eating, breathing.
Finally she asked, “You ever think this place feels too big for the people still in it?”
Selari’s gaze softened. “Yes. But emptiness creates space for what comes next.”
Tristi leaned back, thinking that over. “You always talk like that?”
“Only when people ask difficult questions during lunch,” Selari said, reaching for her tea.
Tristi smirked. “Fair enough.”
They sat together a while longer, two girls from broken worlds sharing borrowed time — a young thief with dirt under her nails and a scientist with logic in her bones — both quietly learning how to live again in the space between loss and light.
OFF
