The Greater Claim

Posted on 12 Oct 2017 @ 4:50pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant & LuAnn Lovegood PhD

1,336 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Episode 15 - Emanation
Location: Earth - San Francisco, Mount Davidson Park
Timeline: MD 27 - 1007 hours

[ON]

Finding his way to this farmer’s market stall had been treacherous enough. There had been a tree to scale and a ladder to climb, just to reach the clutch of tree-houses that had been assembled for this market of fresh produce and prepared artisanal food. There had been rope-plank bridges to cross for him to move from one stall to the next. Finally, finally, he had found a stall with fresh rhubarb. Some of it looked off-colour to his eye and some of it was bruised, but he managed to lay his hands on one bunch that looked perfect. Asymmetrical and a little wobbly, but perfect all the same. When he looked again, there was another hand on the same bunch.

"Pardon me, Madam," Lake ir-Llantrisant said in imperious tones. "Please." And then he softened his timbre. He tilted his head back, allowing his hood to fall back off his head. "Unhand that rhubarb."

"How do you know it doesn't want me to handle it?" the woman asked? "Did you ask it?"

At first, Lake's only response was a sharp intake of breath through his nose. He studied the woman blatantly, before he answered with, "I don't give much though for consent when it comes to flora without a nervous system." Still, he held his grip on the rhubarb. His lips curled to one side, and he proposed, "Perhaps our intended utility with the rhubarb would be a better test?"

LuAnn stared back at Lake just as blatantly. She had to admit, she didn't often tangle with someone over vegetation and she found it quite stimulating. "Putting aside the fact that many ancient species would thank their prey for giving them sustenance, whether it was animal or vegetable--I don't recall any thanking minerals, as they have no sentience at all--I would have to agree with you that the purpose of the rhubarb is important in determining who has the greater claim." She tossed her hair back over her shoulders while still holding on to the stalk of rhubarb. "I am going to bake a strawberry rhubarb pie and eat it with vanilla ice cream."

"If you allow me to claim this bunch of rhubarb," Lake said, leaning in to speak more softly, but more intently, "it will play an essential role in my program of self-care. I intend to take these rhubarb home and pickle them gently. I would like to take them into space with me, and retain them for the pleasure of cooking when I may not have fresh produce at hand."

LuAnn wasn't swayed by his statement. She shook her head. "If you let me take this rhubarb and make a pie, I will give you a plant you can take with you to grow your own rhubarb in space. I'll even share my pie with you."

Cocking an eyebrow, Lake vocalized a, "hmm," as his grip on the rhubarb loosened. He didn't let go --of course-- but his grip slid further down the base. "Your pie proposition is intriguing to me," he admitted. Lake nodded slowly to communicate how very much he would enjoy a slice of warm pie, but then he went still. "However, growing rhubarb sounds like too much work," he said; "I prefer the pickling for its simplicity in the moment."

"But then you have one tiny jar," LuAnn replied. "Wouldn't you rather have a bunch of rhubarb to pick and pickle at your leisure? Just think, warm strawberry rhubarb pie piled with vanilla ice cream. Far better than pickled rhubarb." She smiled. "Think of the old adage: give a man a rhubarb and you feed him for a day. Teach him to grow his own rhubarb and you feed him for the rest of his life."

And Lake's grip on the rhubarb tightened; his whole arm tensed up. "You're losing me... you're losing me..." he said. Admittedly, Lake sounded disappointed about that; he was clearly looking forward to the woman's rhubarb pie. "That really does sound like too much work," he said, "Knowing me, it won't be rhubarb in isolation; I would need an entire garden in my quarters. No, no... I'm happy to live off the replicator and preserved goods. Baking is something I do for pleasure from time to time."

"And yet you want to pickle the poor rhubarb." LuAnn shook her head. "Alas, poor rhubarb, I never knew thee." She was deliberately misquoting Hamlet, but the misquote fit better. "And you claim to bake for pleasure." She gave him a long look and shook her head. "You know, I think you could benefit from taking a long walk in the moonlight. Getting back to nature often improves your mood."

Bobbing his head from side to side, Lake replied, "That's how I've been spending my nights. Hasn't done much for my mood, as you can observe for yourself." He snickered at his own remark, but the sound of it all was guarded. It was as if he didn't want to say more than that, out of self-preservation. Lake took a breath and he narrowed his eyes on LuAnne in a suspicious manner. "Are you reading my mind?" he asked.

"No. Should I?" She felt sorry for this man who so desperately needed the rhubarb. Definitely more than she did. She could always look elsewhere for rhubarb, or substitute something else. What would go well with strawberries? Apples, yes. Peaches? No. Maybe she could switch to blackberries and blueberries? A black and blueberry pie would taste good with vanilla ice cream. She let go of the rhubarb and smiled at Lake. "Call it Ray. Ray the Rhubarb. Then when the pickled rhubarb makes you happy, you can call it your Ray of sunshine."

A disappointed frown creased his face at first, and then Lake sighed. He also released his grip on the rhubarb in kind, but an expression of distrust crossed his eyes briefly. "I don't believe in the personification of objects," Lake said, rejecting her suggested with a shake of his head. Studying LuAnn with some intensity, he asked, "Why did you give up? I was enjoying the tug-of-war."

"I didn't want to bruise the rhubarb," LuAnn said simply. "And you looked like you needed it more than I do." She shrugged. "I can make some other kind of pie. Strawberry-apple or black and blueberry. Or maybe I'll just do a cold strawberry pie and save the ice cream for later." She smiled. "But if you like tug-of-war, we could always find something else. Something that doesn't bruise so easily, like watermelon. But that will make quite a mess if either of us drops it."

Grinning back at LuAnne as if he was supremely entertained, Lake said, "I'm game if you are." He swept a hand in the direction of the next stall over, allowing LuAnn to take the lead. "Mayhap some hearty spaghetti squash?" he suggested. "I'm curious, though... What does one look like when one looks like one needs rhubarb?"

LuAnn raised an eyebrow and looked intently at Lake. "Like you do," she said enigmatically. Then she turned and headed for the indicated stall. She carefully looked at the squash. She picked up one and sniffed the end. "This will work. If you think you're still up for it."

Turning his eyes on the squash, Lake evaluated the fruit by sight and it wasn't long before his evaluation turned towards LuAnn. "I'm not sure that I am," said Lake. He shook his head to emphasize his point, but there wasn't so much certainty in his expression, nor his timbre. "Especially not if your evaluation of my happiness comes as a gift with purchase?"

LuAnn contemplated him for several seconds. "You know, I think you would benefit from some long walks in the moonlight. Maybe a swim, too." She tossed him the squash. "And some fried squash."


[OFF]

Lieutenant (JG) Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo

LuAnn Lovegood
Counselor
USS Galileo
[PNPC Sandoval]

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