Lunch - A Mission

Start date 070809. Noon. Captain’s Log ... A signal from deep within... A grumbling... We must find sustenance quickly. A Sub planet has been located. I’ve have formed an expedition of one and beamed down with a small, silver transport. There is little time...

“Status report, Mr. Sulu”

“Aye, Captain. There seems to be others joining us in the search at this time. All passages are seriously congested.”

“Thank you, Sulu. Let us hope we get through the line quickly. I have the landing coordinates pinpointed. I shall be there soon. Perform another wider scan, Mr. Sulu.”

“Scanning, Sir. Seems congestion is at the far end of the lot. Not your Sub destination, Sir.”

“Let’s keep the communicator at the ready, Uhura. Given the short time we have, we may need to switch destinations.”

“Frequency open, Sir.”

“Captain,” interjects Mr. Spock.

“Yes, Spock, proceed.”

“I am detecting an unusual vehicle proceeding through the north end of the lot. It seems to be some form of white and red shuttle service. Life forms appear elderly and slow.”

“That could inhibit our time-frame to Eat Fresh. We only have a half hour... Mr. Sulu. Take it south to the end of lot, warp factor 5. Be at the ready.”

“Course noted. Warp Five in.”

“Captain,” interrupts Mr. Spock. “A large delivery transport seems to be blocking the alternate way out. You could be blocked in upon exiting, Sir. Might I suggest the deli down the way!”

“As a Vulcan, Mr. Spock, you sound more like my mother. Don’t worry, the Sub destination can handle the small volume in short order. The transport should be gone by then anyway.”

“Engineering to Captain.”

“What is it, Mr. Scott?”

“The Vulcan is right, Cap’in. The large transport has parked in your only exit way. You’a no’a’canna move. With the construction on the highway there, they’ve diverted the loading zone. You’re a dead in the water, Sir.”

“Scotty, see what you can work out. Call CalTrans and get a report. There. Must. Be. Another. Way.”

Remarkably, a dark, shady spot in a corner of the area opens up. It is well out of the heat of one of the sun-like orbs of light.

“Mr. Sulu. I’m docking here. Prepare to open cargo doors on my mark... three... two... ONE. Spock, what is our time?”

“Captain, if my calculations are correct, you should be exiting the Sub destination in about seven point five minutes. This destination works rather efficiently and well below the average waiting time. And they are said to be extremely friendly, Sir.”

“I’ll make note of that, Spock. Thank you. I’m going in. I’ll be out of communication for a bit. Mr. Sulu, prepare to beam me back in seven point five minutes.”

A life form greets almost mechanically from the other side of a glass panel, “Hello!. Welcome to Subway.”

Fade to black.

Fade up to see the USS Enterprise. The crew is staring at a presentation on a large screen. Uhura picks out the onions from her sandwich and delicately sets them aside. Sulu takes his package and slips back into his place at the control panel. He adjusts something on the console in front of him and swivels back in his seat. Scotty is noticeably missing as his package lies at the side by an empty chair. Spock raises one eye as he toys with the small sub, “It seems they used oil and vinegar instead of mayo. Interesting!”

“Can you fix it, Doctor?”

“Dammit, Jim. I’m a Doctor, not a sandwich maker.”

Giving Spock an imperturbable long look, the Captain smiles and takes a long slurp on his diet drink, “Upward and onward, Mr. Sulu. Next frame, please, Mr. Chekov. Next. Frame. Please.”