“Computer!” Sega’a lodged his foot in the doorway as he wheeled a cart of dirtied dishes and glassware into the galley before stacking them into the sonic dishwasher with an order to ‘sanitise’. “Reduce ambient temperature to 19 degrees Celsius. It’s hotter than a Vulcan sauna!”

Sega’a heard the computer chirp, followed by the sweet sensation of cool air rushing into a stuffy and strangely pepper-smelling kitchen. Grateful, he muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ to his mechanical companion and moved to the prep station, snagging a metal bowl to clear the remnants of the tubers and Three Sisters Stew he’d prepared for dinner. He scraped potato peels and carrot skins into the bowl, lamenting how long it would be before his next restock, and disposed of them in the matter recycler. It was in this evening routine that Sega’a found time to think. He gave in to the muscle memory and let his thoughts wander to places the day wouldn’t allow. Occasionally, when he knew he was alone, he would let slip the chorus of his favourite Orion songs and melt into the melody.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, Sega’a slipped from the Wardroom after serving dessert – a redspice tea cake with vegan buttercream and candied oranges – to begin a quick tidying of the galley. Part of him wanted to avoid any trouble with Taggart’s personal chef in the morning, and the other wanted to get out of there ASAP to begin decorating for the after-party. Shoot! Sega’a’s attention snapped to the chronometer. 19:23. He set the time to 22:00, allowing him just under 2.5 hours to get ready. 30min for cleaning. 2hrs for decorating. That should be enough, right? Sega’a pondered while putting away spices and leftovers and sanitising the countertops. By the time he figured it out, he stood at the centre of a clean, vaguely lemon-smelling galley with a water-splotched apron and a pensive look.

“Huh…” he muttered, shrugged and discarded his apron on its hook before slipping into the cooridors while the officers continued their wining and dining (with synthenol, of course).

He stopped by his quarters to enlist the help of his roommate, Rorc, and give his lovely little gremlin some attention before heading to the Deck 5 Lounge. He hadn’t anticipated a party. But, no matter! He’d come up with something. Beckoning Rorc into the Lounge, he had the Tellarite man prepare the music (knowing his taste to be nearly as impeccable as his own) while he handled the lights. Sega’a swiftly located the controls and disposed of the dim, cosy lighting. He reduced the overhead lights and adjusted the wall-bound fixtures to shades of light and dark blues. Then, he pushed some of the tables to hull-side wall and arranged them to hold refreshments and cocktails. He hadn’t prepped for this occasion, but there were leftover goodies from the week.

“Hey Rorc! I’ll be right back – gotta grab some food. Any requests?” He glanced over at the man engrossed in his playlist, earning only a soft grunt, and shrugged. Sega’a knew what he liked.

Sega’a (nearly skipping) made his way back to the galley and pulled some of the leftover sweets and hors d’oeuvres (including a dark chocolate cookie for Rorc), stacked them on a cart, and rolled them back to the galley. He returned to the sound of soft bass as Rorc toyed with the sound controls. Careful not to interrupt his rhythm, Sega’a placed his cookie on the table beside him and went about setting up his mini snack bar. He hummed to the music as he arranged the tiny dishes.

“All right…” he raised his hands and slowly backed away from the table. Pride tugged at the corners of his lips as he made a final sweeping glance over the lounge. “Let’s get this party started!”

— Sega’a