Posted by Lieutenant Valeria Doctra (Chief Medical Officer) in Lounge

Posted by Captain Daniel “DaVinci” Colter (Commanding Officer) in Lounge

Posted by Major Tuvock (Diplomatic Attaché) in Lounge
Posted by… suppressed (8) by the Post Ghost! 👻
The lounge was unusually tranquil for the middle of Alpha shift. Soft amber lighting reflected from polished wood and brushed metal accents, while the panoramic viewports offered a sweeping view of stars sliding silently past the USS Manhattan at warp. Conversations were kept respectfully subdued, allowing the elegant strains of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Clarinet Concerto in A Major to drift effortlessly through the room. The centuries-old composition filled the lounge with a sense of order and refinement that appealed to Vulcan sensibilities.

Seated alone near one of the forward viewports, Sub-Commander Tuvock maintained his customary posture—perfectly erect, hands resting calmly upon the table before him. A porcelain cup of traditional Vulcan spiced tea rested beside a neatly arranged dinner. While many aboard the ship still found it surprising that Vulcans occasionally consumed meat, Tuvock had requested a medium-rare Terran steak accompanied by roasted potatoes and grilled asparagus. The meal had been prepared by the lounge’s culinary staff rather than the replicator, producing flavors and textures that logic dictated were superior to replicated fare.

Methodically, he cut another precise portion of steak, taking a measured sip of tea before activating the padd resting beside his plate. The document displayed was not an intelligence report nor a diplomatic communiqué, but a private correspondence addressed to his wife on Vulcan.

To my beloved T’Pel,

I trust that this message finds you and our children in excellent health. My assignment aboard the Federation starship USS Manhattan continues according to expectations. The crew has conducted themselves with professionalism, and the commanding officer has demonstrated sound judgment during several diplomatic consultations.

While Starfleet culture often differs from that of the Vulcan High Command, those differences continue to provide opportunities for observation and understanding. It is logical that cooperation among diverse peoples remains one of the Federation’s greatest strengths.

The voyage has been uneventful from a tactical perspective, a circumstance I consider preferable to unnecessary excitement. My duties as Diplomatic Attaché have required frequent consultation with senior officers concerning matters of interstellar protocol, cultural mediation, and regional security. These responsibilities remain… intellectually satisfying.

During this evening meal, the lounge steward selected the music of the Terran composer Mozart. Though emotionally expressive by Human standards, the mathematical precision underlying his compositions possesses a structure that I find… agreeable.

I find myself recalling our evenings together in Shi’Kahr, when silence itself was often more meaningful than conversation. Such memories serve as a reminder that duty and family are not opposing obligations, but complementary ones.

Please inform Sekal, T’Varen, Vorik, and T’Shara that their father remains in good health and continues to serve both Vulcan and the Federation with honor. I anticipate the opportunity to return home when my assignment has concluded.

Live long and prosper.

—Tuvock

He reviewed the message twice, correcting a single grammatical inconsistency before transmitting it through the ship’s subspace communications array.

Another sip of tea followed.

Outside the viewport, the stars continued their endless passage through the darkness. Mozart’s concerto reached its gentle conclusion, replaced by another movement as the lounge carried on with quiet conversation. Tuvock returned his attention to his meal, finishing it with the same deliberate precision that characterized every aspect of his life. In the stillness of the moment, surrounded by strangers yet serving a familiar purpose, he found a quiet affirmation of Vulcan philosophy: logic, duty, and family remained constants, regardless of how many light-years separated them.

Tuvock
Sub-Commander, Vulcan High Command
Major (Equivalent), Diplomatic Attaché
USS Manhattan

The CO entered the lounge and scanned the room. He was looking for some new members of the crew to chat with in an effort to get to know them better. He spotted Tuvock by himself near the viewport. He ordered a salad from the the replicator, along with a glass of ice water, and approached the diplomat.

“Good afternoon, Major. Do you mind if I join you?”

Capt. Daniel ‘DaVinci’ Colter
CO-USS Manhattan

” Afternoon, Captain. I do not mind sir please sit.” Tuvock replied looking up from his own meal.

Tuvock
Sub-Commander, Vulcan High Command
Major (Equivalent), Diplomatic Attaché
USS Manhattan

The CO sat down with his salad and noticed the small of cooked meat before seeing it on Tuvock’s plate. He look confused as he asked, “Steak, Major? I’ve never met a Vulcan that wasn’t vegetarian. I know that most Vulcans are disgusted by the practice of eating meat. How did you come to be a connoiseur of one of the finer things in life?”

Capt. Daniel ‘DaVinci’ Colter
CO-USS Manhattan

Tuvock glanced down at the steak, then back toward the captain, his expression remaining characteristically composed. There was perhaps the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes at the observation.

“Your assessment is generally accurate, Captain. The majority of Vulcans do not consume meat, and many consider the practice unnecessary when suitable alternatives are available. I, however, have never subscribed to the notion that conformity is synonymous with logic.”

He set his utensils down with deliberate precision before continuing. “I was introduced to Terran cuisine during my service with Starfleet. Initially, I found the practice of consuming animal flesh to be… inefficient. However, after sufficient exposure, I concluded that there was no logical imperative requiring me to dislike it simply because other Vulcans do. Properly prepared meat is nutritionally useful, and, I must concede, possesses qualities that are difficult to replicate with vegetable substitutes.”

His eyes settled briefly on the steak before returning to Colter.

“As for being a connoisseur, Captain, I would hesitate to apply such an emotionally enthusiastic term to my interests. I simply appreciate quality preparation. There is considerable difference between consuming meat and understanding how it should be prepared.”

A faint pause followed.

“This particular steak appears to have been prepared correctly. I would therefore recommend that you reserve your judgment until after you have tasted it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to convince me of the taste. I love steak. Especially if it’s prepared on an open fire grill.”

Tuvock picked up his utensils again.

“Logic does not require one to deny oneself every pleasure. It merely requires that one exercise sufficient discipline to ensure the pleasure remains a choice rather than an indulgence.”

Tuvock
Sub-Commander, Vulcan High Command
Major (Equivalent), Diplomatic Attaché
USS Manhattan

Colter looked down at his salad, then back to the steak. Standing, he picked up the salad.

“I only got this, because I didn’t want to offend you.”

He turned to leave, but stopped and turned back to the Vulcan. “Y’know what goes good with a well cooked steak? An ice cold bottle of beer. You ever tried a real beer? I don’t mean that synthahol junk. I’m talking real beer from a brewery on Earth. You’re off duty, correct?”

Capt. Daniel ‘DaVinci’ Colter
CO-USS Manhattan

Tuvock regarded the captain for several seconds, his expression remaining as composed as ever. His eyes briefly moved toward the salad Colter had abandoned, then returned to the captain. There was no visible disapproval in his features, although the slightest elevation of one eyebrow suggested that Colter’s sudden decision to abandon his carefully selected meal had not escaped his notice.

“I am, in fact, off duty,” Tuvock replied. “For the next two hours, at least. After that, I am scheduled to review the diplomatic briefings concerning our upcoming operations.”

He paused, considering the captain’s offer with the same seriousness he might have applied to a diplomatic proposal.

“As for beer, I have consumed it previously. However, I suspect that what I have been served aboard Starfleet vessels bears little resemblance to what you are describing. Most of my exposure has been to replicated beverages or commercially produced varieties selected for general consumption. I have never had the opportunity to sample a traditionally brewed Terran beer directly from a planetary brewery.”

Tuvock folded his hands before him, studying Colter with quiet curiosity.

“I would therefore consider your proposal a potentially useful cultural experience. If the beverage is as significant to Human social interaction as you appear to imply, there is merit in understanding it firsthand.”

A brief pause followed.

“Provided, of course, that you are not attempting to incapacitate your diplomatic attaché with alcohol on his first evening aboard your command.”

There was a subtle change in his expression. For a Vulcan, it was remarkably close to humor.

“And I would remind you, Captain, that I have consumed considerably stronger beverages than beer. Vulcan discipline does not cease merely because one is holding a glass.”

Tuvock picked up his cup of spiced tea and finished the last sip before setting it carefully upon the table.

“If you are proposing that we continue this conversation over an authentic Terran beer, I accept.”

His gaze shifted toward the lounge entrance.

“However, I will insist upon one condition.”

This time it was the captain’s turn to raise a Vulcan-like eyebrow. “And that is. . .?”

He looked back to Colter.

“You will select the first beverage. I will evaluate it without prejudice. If it proves satisfactory, I will select the second.”

The faintest hint of amusement returned to his eyes.

“I believe that is a sufficiently logical arrangement.”

Tuvock
Major, Vulcan High Command
Major (Equivalent), Diplomatic Attaché
USS Manhattan

“That is . . .logical, I suppose,” Colter replied with a grin.

He picked up the salad bowl and placed it in the recycler. A few moments later , Colter returned with a large T-bone steak, buried in BBQ sauce with a baked potato slathered in sour cream on the side. In his other hand, he held two glass bottles of a golden liquid. The label on the bottle read ‘Miller High Life’.

He placed one bottle in front of Tuvock and the other, along with the steak in front of himself. “No this is a real meal.”

Sitting down, he held up his bottle above the middle of the table and made a toast. “To real beer.”

Capt. Daniel ‘DaVinci’ Colter
CO-USS Manhattan

Tuvock regarded the bottle for several moments, turning it slightly in his hand as he examined the label. There was something almost ceremonial about the way he studied it, as though Captain Colter had presented him with an artifact of considerable historical significance rather than a bottle of beer.

He raised his bottle in response to the captain’s toast.

“To real beer.”

The glass bottles touched with a quiet clink.

Tuvock then took a measured sip.

He held the beer in his mouth for a moment, allowing himself to evaluate the flavor before swallowing. His expression remained almost completely neutral, although one eyebrow rose ever so slightly.

He looked at the bottle again.

“I see.”

Another brief sip followed.

“It possesses a considerably stronger bitterness than the replicated varieties I have previously encountered. The carbonation is also somewhat more pronounced. I would characterize the flavor profile as… uncomplicated.”

“That’s what makes it taste great.”

He paused, looking toward Colter.

“That is not intended as a criticism.”

Tuvock took another drink, this time slightly larger than the first.

“Indeed, I believe I understand why Humans have maintained such an attachment to the beverage for centuries. It is relatively simple, readily available, socially versatile, and requires no elaborate ceremony to enjoy.”

Colter took a long quaff of his beer. “Here’s the thing, though. You can’t get the real stuff anymore. Everything is replicated or synthahol. These came straight from the 21st Century. When I was serving as the intel chief on the Saracen, we went back in time for a mission. I can’t go into detail, but we went back to 2025. After we completed the mission and returned to the present, I made a deal with the transporter chief. I gave him the coordinates of a beer distributor I knew of. He used a cargo transporter to beam out almost a whole warehouse of this for me. We split it and stored it in various places around the ship in cold storage. It was enough to last a while.”

DaVinci smiled at the memory. “The captain knew about it and was okay with it as long as I shared some with him. He enjoyed the taste, especially with a bar-b-que. When the Saracen was decommed, I had my stash transported to my ranch on Earth. Being here in the Delta, I wasn’t sure we’d get home to bring more aboard, so I’ve got a good size stashed on this ship.”

He held a finger to his lips. “But that’s just between you and me.”

His eyes briefly settled on the captain’s enormous T-bone steak, covered generously in barbecue sauce, before returning to his own bottle.

“It also appears to complement your preferred cuisine rather effectively.”

“Exactly,” the Captain replied.

There was another pause.

“I will concede, Captain, that it is preferable to the replicated beer I have previously been served aboard Starfleet vessels.”

Tuvock lifted the bottle slightly.

“Your selection is therefore satisfactory.”

DaVinci nodded his head in appreciation.

A faint glimmer of amusement appeared in his eyes.

“Although, based upon your earlier statement, I was expecting something considerably more… impressive.”

He took another drink.

“I believe it is now my turn to select the second beverage.”

Tuvock set the bottle down with deliberate precision.

“I have heard that Humans possess an ancient distilled beverage known as bourbon. I am curious to determine whether your species has made greater progress in its preparation than it has in the production of beer.”

“I have a friend, former captain of the Wolverine. He was a bourbon man. Had a vintage bottle of Old Rip Van Winkle 25 Year, produced in 2017. As far as I know, he still has it stored somewhere safe. I won’t go into how he got his hands on it, though.”

For perhaps the first time during their conversation, the Vulcan’s expression suggested genuine anticipation.

“Besides, Captain, you did say that I would be permitted to select the second.”

“I did.’

Tuvock picked up his fork and calmly returned to his steak.

“I believe we have established that I am capable of making logical decisions while consuming alcohol.”

He paused.

“Although I suspect you were already aware of that.”

—Tuvock
Major, Vulcan High Command
Major (Equivalent), Diplomatic Attaché
USS Manhattan

“Let’s just make sure you don’t do it while on duty,” he replied with a conspiratorial wink.

Capt. Daniel ‘DaVinci’ Colter
CO-USS Manhattan

OOC: It is astounding how long men can talk about booze. Do you get to go to a secret school we girls can’t see to learn all this? 😉😂🤗. Jules

OOC: Lol!! With great booze, comes great memories, even if a majority of them were stupid and dangerous. The stories I could tell about my high school and college days when alcohol was involved. –Terry