SD 04/30/05 - "Kzinti Culinary Catastrophies" aka "The Wrath of Ironbottom #13" - Ahhhhhhh ... that's much better.
I never imagined Lynx's cooking could be so ... unfit for human consumption.
And to think I was getting a break from our current crisis: our pursuit of Ironbottom. So far, all we've been able to do is rescue the survivors from his rampages. After the Kansas, we got distress calls from the Environmental Science shipExxon Valdez, the window repair shipDefenstrator, and just now the ship we've interacted with in a few noteable moments, the cruiser Dangermouse. We got all the survivors, sent those who needed help to Medical, and resumed our chase.
It is frustrating, every time we close in on Irobbtoom, we arrive too late and have to stop to get the people before they croak. But at least it's relieving our manpower shortage. The survivors were more than willing to help out smash the cause of their predictament and avenge their lost crewmen, so they're filling positions that were empty much of the time. Some Redshirts had to be a gunner, repairman, and Security. Now instead of three jobs, the most pressed have only two.
One problem caused by the new influx of crewmen, the food supply. Kzintis tend prefer their meat raw and fresh, well, Hegemony Kzins anyway given how those over here often get a taste for fried foods very quickly. Even their rights advocate group has the initials KFC (Kzinti-Federation Citizens). In any event, although we had enough replicators on our hands, they produced only raw meat. With some tweaking of the programs, we soon were able to cook it, but no vegetable dishes. Although the shuttle replicator can still do so, we're still relying on emergency rations from the escape pods, taken from the ships we rescued, and somehow scavanged from places on this ship before the space herpes got them.
Lynx has been trying to change that, by trying to reprogram the replicators to make non-meat dishes. But as I found out for myself, the results had much to be desired. She went up with a cookpot, and offered me a spoonful of something. I took a taste, and God it was so horrible, I swallowed instead of gaging. Asking what it was, it was brocolii with offal sauce! Offal sauce!! I knew Kzin were odd, but ... At least that cookie got rid of the God-awful taste, albeit replacing it with that of salty sweet potato.
Maybe with all that, I should have turned down the next item, but I didn't think you could ruin a milkshake. Boy was I wrong - liver flavor. With that, I hoped the next item would settle the growing uneasiness in my stomach: coffee. But it tasted like sink cleaner! It was at this point the problem had gone from my stomach to intestines, and I gave Lera the bridge before rushing to the officers' head.
I really, really, hate what Kzin use for toilet paper.
*ADDITION* Well my stomach's better thanks to Cosmo. Headed there after the bathroom, and he fixed things up. I wish I could have gone to sleep, but we have a job to do.
Anyway, Half found something interesting. A cargo container full of old-fashioned rescue balls. Before transporters were perfected, they were standard equipment on ships as trips from a crippled ship to safety would involve going through hard vaccum, and there wasn't enough space for vaccum suits for everyone in most ships. So came these things the size of a large beach ball that a humanoid could crawl into and be safe from hard vaccum for a few hours, until the small air supply in the tiny bottle abaord ran out. They were also a source of amusment for bored crewman as they would inflate a few and toss them around.
With transporters around here in iffy shape, I've ordered them distributed througout the ship. They could prove a real difference if crewmen become trapped in an area with a ruptured hull.
On my way back to the Bridge. Lera says we have another distress signal. For some reason, I have a forboding, ominous, feeling this isn't just from another freighter or cruiser ...