Fifth Wheeling at Dinner
Posted on Sat Sep 13th, 2025 @ 2:59am by Petty Officer 2nd Class Zal Rixi & Lieutenant Xalanth & Lieutenant JG T'Para MD
2,502 words; about a 13 minute read
Mission:
The Menagerie II
Location: Xalanth Family Quarters, Deck 9
T'para let out a sigh as she stood up, moving some of her wet hair out of her face. Trust the replicator to be messing up now. Running her hand across her wet head, she moved to her combadge, which she had left on the kitchen counter.
=^= T'para to engineering, could I get someone down to my family quarters? The replicator is playing up. =^=
[Engineering here,] came the reply, Rixi's voice carrying its usual cheeriness. [Petty Officer Zal.]
There was the faint scrape of chair pushed back, the muffled background clatter of tools being swept into a kit. Rixi had that tone, half put-upon and half-amused, like the ship itself was mischievous cousin and she had been left in charge to rein it in.
[I can be there in five.]
[See you in five,] T'para replied. Standing up, the hybrid headed for the bathroom. At least she could get her hair dried in the meantime.
T'para had a smile on her face as she opened the door. The hybrid was wearing a white swimsuit with blue stars around the neck and belly with some standard fleet gym shorts around her waist. "Hello there, you must be Zal Rixi. Fulvia and Leilani mentioned you." T'para said with a smile on her face. "Sorry about all this. I just got out of doing some breathing exercises to make everyone dinner and the replicators on the blink." She explained.
Rixi nodded at T'para with a little grin which said she wasn't taking the whole needing-to-salute business all that seriously. "Where's the problem, Doctor?" she said, stepping fully into the doorway and letting the toolkit settle against her hip. Her boots clicked lightly on the floor, and the pack of isolinear chips bounced a fraction as she moved. "And don't worry about it. Replicators have moods. Some days they're angels, some days they're dramatic divas."
"Every time I try to replicate something, it begins to materialise, but fizzles out. I've tried the standard protocols, but nothing works." The hybrid explained as she led the way through the quarters. Noting Rixi eyes wandering to the artwork on the desert golden walls, the hybrid smiled. " My red knight does know how to make standard quarters feel more like home, doesn't he?"
The engineering technician let her eyes linger a second longer on the warm walls, the strokes of gold catching the room's steady light. She huffed out a small laugh, most through her nose. "Yeah, I'd say he's got the knack. Most of us settle for a plant on a shelf." She shifted her toolkit off her hip and crouched near the replicator panel--a movement she'd done a thousand times before. The magnetic clasp of the kit opened and she drew out a tricorder.
"So you went and married yourself an interior designer," she muttered, her eyes on the tricorder's readout. Unsatisfied with the readings, she snatched an phase alignment modulator from the kit and ran it along the replicator coils. "Yep. Your plasma flow's having itself a tantrum," Rixi said, he tone half-clinical, half-chatty. "That Expanse did a number on every single vital system aboard the ship. But I can recalibrate the replicator's emitter array and swap-out the particle decompiler just to be sure." She popped-open a hidden secondary panel, revealing the replicator's guts. The air inside smelled of warm ozone--like lightning in a bottle. After a moment, she pulled a component loose, dropping it into a receptacle in the toolkit and replacing it in one smooth movement.
"Good news, doc--dinner's on schedule." The work now completed, Rixi shut both panels and came to her feet, facing the replicator. "Now, let's see if it still wants to fizzle. Give it a go, T'para."
T'para nooded and pressed a few buttons on the replicator. The familiar hum and light appeared, and from the light came a small bowl of steaming soup. Giving it a sniff, T'para drew a spoon from one of the drawers and took a small sip. The smile was more than enough to tell that Rixi work had paid off. " Delsisuius. Would you like to stay for dinner? Xalanths got the girls right now, but they should all be back shortly."
Rixi rocked back a little on her heels, toolkit still hanging from one hand. An invitation like this was a surprise--she had become used to quick fixes, thanks given, doors shut behind her. For a moment, she blinked at T'para, the steam from the soup curling upward next to them.
Her grin returned, a lopsided thing that seemed typical for her. "Dinner? You sure you want a grease-monkey cluttering up the table?" she asked, her tone playful. She set the kit down by her boot.
"Our odd little family has seven kids in total I think we can handle a grease monkey," T'para replied with a warm smile spreading over her face. "It will just be me, Xalanth and the girls tonight. My sister wives are on the late shift today."
Rixi tilted her head, one boot tapping the floor as if testing the idea. She let the silence stretch on for a moment, before making up her mind. "Seven kids, two adults, and me," she said with a grin that required no punctuation. "That sounds lovely."
"Splendid." The hybrid smiled. "Are there any dishes you'd like to add to the dinner? We tend to put a selection down." She asked.
She laughed joyfully at T'para's offer, leaning forward and placing a hand on her wrist. "Doc, I grew up on Federation ration packs and whatever my parents could scrape together on a good day. Put a spread in front of me and I'll be happy. I'm really not picky."
"I'm sure you enjoy dragonian cuisine." replied the doctor. "Could you get some of the cutlery from the cabinet?"
Rixi crouched in front of the cabinet, tugging it open with her boot and letting the drawer slide out on its runners. Rows of forks and spoon shined back at her, neat as little toy soldiers. She reached for a handful, not really looking, distracted by the warmth in T'para voice.
Her fingers closed around the smooth handles--and then pain. A sharp sting across the pad of her thumb. She hissed, more out of surprise than anything, jerking her hand back. A red line welled up almost immediately, a stream of blood running up her hand and toward her wrist.
"Prophets, that stings," she muttered.
T'para's head jerked up as she heard the muttering. "Are you...?" she asked before seeing Rixi holding her hand. A Vulcan word that didn't translate escaped her lips before her hands reached for the medkit they kept on the wall. "Here." She said, holding up a regenerator. "Sorry about that. One of the knives must have been put in the wrong way." she said as she worked with the skills of a Federation doctor.
Rixi held her thumb out awkwardly, a trickle of blood sliding stubbornly down to her wrist. She expected the usual fussing--someone grabbing a towel, maybe a clumsy dab with a napkin--but T'para moved with an ease that made it feel like none of this was out of place. The regenerator hummed to life in her hand, its faint blue glow humming over Rixi's thumb.
The sting dulled almost immediately. What struck Rixi more than anything, though, was the steadiness of The Vulcan hybrid's touch: warm, careful, not hurried. Her fingers braced Rixi's hand as if it were something worth tending to.
"If I didn't know you were a doctor before," Rixi said softly, almost sheepishly, "I sure as stars know it now."
"Not bad for an orphan girl from Earth." T'para answered, giving her a warm smile.
Rixi huffed-out a laugh, soft and crooked. "Not bad at all," she said. "Guess that makes us even now. You fix dinner, I fix dinner-makers."
"Indeed." The hybrid replied as the sound of the door opening made her look around, letting out a Boot's of girls i don't want you trampling sand through the carpet as she did so."
In stepped Xalanth, surrounded by the small horde of Dragonian hybrids. He was clearly happy as he pulled the hood from around his head and took of the protective mask. "Rixi, nice to see you. Is everything okay, beloved?" he said, looking over at T'para.
"Just some problems with the replicator, Rixi stopped by to help, and i invited her to stay for dinner." T'para explained.
"Replicator's behaving again. Shouldn't give you any more trouble--at least not before dessert." Rixi smiled at the Dragonian security chief.
The children's energy eddied around her, their chatter slipping through the spaces of the room, and she felt her grin broaden.
The tallest of the girls smiled at Rixi. " Hello. I'm Yazar are you friends with dad and my moms?" she said in a soft chirping.
Rixi crouched down to Yazar's level, letting the faint blue glow from the regenerator fade from her hand. The little girl's eyes were wide and curious.
"Hello, Yazar," she said, voice gentle and her grin softening. "I'm friends with your dad, yes. And your moms too, of course." She reached out, letting her fingers brush lightly over the girl's shoulder, careful not to startle her.
Yazar didn't move and simply gave Rixi a wide happy smile. " Nice to meet you," she chirped out.
"Our firstborn," T'para added as she collected a few dishes from the replicators.
Rixi winked at the child and stood, gathering the utensils to complete her previous task. She watched T'para making other preparations and began setting the forks, knives, and spoons at the nearby dining table.
Xalanth helped his mate with the dishes, placing them down on the table. Noting that Rixi was looking at the two chairs tilted forward, he explained. " There for Zola and Cemet. I hope they will be rejoining us soon." his voice dipped at that. it was clear he missed them deeply.
She glanced at the two empty chairs. They weren't just chairs. They were waiting places. You could feel that in the air--the way the others didn't quite look at them, and also couldn't quite not.
Rixi cleared her throat. "Well," she said, her voice carrying, "I'll make sure the replicator stays in line, so when Zola and Cemet return, the first thing they sit down to won't be half-materialized soup."
"I'm sure they will appreciate it." Xalanth replied with a warm smile as he and T'para placed a few dishes down on the table. "Okay, we have sky ray steaks, warm glodlex, some Italian pasta and a grilled vegetable mix. Anything else you'd like to add Zal?"
"Xalanth," she said, looking at him with her head tilted to the side, "call me Rixi--and your wife already offered me the galaxy."
She slid into one of the empty spaces at the table, her toolkit tucked against the leg of her chair like a loyal dog. The smell of food drifted across the table--meats charred just right, vegetables glistening, pasta coiled in soft heaps.
Xalanth smiled as he took his seat around the circular table. Reaching out, he took one of his daughters' hands and offered his other to Rixi. " Would you like to join us in prayer?" He asked politely.
Rixi froze for a moment, seeing Xalanth's hand hovering open toward her. She hadn't properly prayed in years--not since leaving Bajor, and not since work and duty drowned-out the other rhythms of her faith. She only knew the old words, the ones her mother had taught her in the aftermath of the Occupation.
"I... only know Bajoran prayers," she admitted, eyes darting toward T'para and then the children. "And I'm out of practice."
"It's okay, I'm sure fire and night will understand," Xalanth said, giving her the warmest smile that he could.
"It doesn't need to be perfect just from the heart," T'para added reassuringly. "You don't have to if you don't want to."
Their dinner guest nodded with a sheepish grin that said she wanted to, but felt a little under-the-gun. She shifted in her chair--somewhat uncomfortably--grabbing the her napkin off the table and placing it across her lap.
"Well," she said clearing her throat and closing her eyes, "the simplest one that comes to mind is... May the Prophets smile upon this meal, and may it nourish our bodies and spirits." She said the last with a slight bow of her head.
"Amen." Xalanth said before looking around the table and smiling.
"Here Rixi try the glodlex." Said T'para as she helped dish out food to the children. Handing the Bajoran the ladle the hybrid smiled. "Don't worry, it tastes like wild chicken."
She accepted the ladle, its handle still warm from T'para's hand. The bowl beneath her nose steamed, something in it reminded her of campfire smoke and roasted meat. She spooned a portion onto her plate, the sauce sliding thickly across the vegetables and passed the ladle to Yazar.
"It definitely smells good," Rixi remarked, cutting into her glodlex.
"My people's cuisine is simple yet filling." Xalanth beamed as he reached over and helped his youngest cut her food.
"We don't have ice cream..." the smallest one Lwiari, who had blond scales the same colour as her magna roman mother, running along her head, said to her father.
"No little one, we do not have ice cream but the desert is no place for a cow." He said warmly.
Rixi forked up a bite of glodlex, chewed, and then blinked at the flavour. It was smoky, gamey, with a subtle sweetness. She swallowed and glanced at Xalanth.
"Not bad," she said with a grin. "Not bad at all."
"Thank you." Xalanth said with a smile as he looked over at his mate and gave her a smile. "We have a great cook."
Rixi let her fork hover for a moment, then jabbed it into another bite that was now heavy with sauce. "Great cook's underselling it," she said, grinning around the table. "Feels more like sitting down at a feast than a Tuesday night on a starship."
The children giggled, sounding a lot like glass bells in the wind.
She leaned back in her chair, the toolkit at her feet forgotten. She realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd sat at a family table like this. Rixi raised a glass of water toward them. "To good company," she said, winking conspiratorially at Lwiari.
"To good company." Both Xalanth and T'para said in unision.
Lieutenant Xalanth
Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea
Lieutenant J.G. T'para
Medical Officer
USS Astrea
Petty Officer 2nd Class Zal Rixi
Engineering Technician
USS Astrea
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