Five Times Kathryn Janeway Didn’t Care about Food and One Time She Did

I.

"Come on, Kathy, you can't be with your books the whole day. Help me and your sister cook the stew."

Kathryn didn't even raise her eyes from her book. It was quite an interesting read, and she was just getting to the best part.

"Kathy, I'm talking to you. Help us cook."

Kathryn lowered her book and shot a glance towards her mother and sister in the kitchen, before looking at her father.

"Do I have to?" she asked him — and she knew she had his back. She was his favorite child, after all.

"Do you really need her help, Gretch?" he asked her mother. "It's not like she's being lazy — she's reading a book on astrophysics, it's good for her."

"I cannot believe you would side with her on this matter, Edward! Yes, I need her help. She needs to learn to cook — it's just as important a skill as astrophysics. What if she ends up on a mission without replicators? She needs to know the basics of cooking so she doesn't starve to death!"

"Sorry, Kitten, seems you'll have to go help your mother and sister with the stew."

"But dad...!"

"Hey, I tried, but you know your mother. And you do not wanna anger her."

"Fine. But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

"I never said it would."

Kathryn left the book on the coffee table at the living-room, and went to the kitchen grudgingly. She had never been as skilled as her sister or her mom when it came to cooking. It was just torture for her — she didn't have the patience for things to cook. She had places to be, books to read. Learning to cook, despite what her mother said, was a stupid waste of time in that day and age.

"So, what do you need me to do?"

"Chop those onions!"

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

II.

"I just don't understand why we can't just replicate something to bring to the party."

"Because it's a potluck, Katie. Come on, there must be something easy you can cook that we can bring."

Janeway sighed and closed the practice test she was doing.

"Look, I'm studying for the Advanced Astrophysics final, I'm sure everyone will understand just how busy we are in the command track and they won't mind replicated food."

Her friend, Jo, laughed in disbelief.

"I can't believe you, Katie! The final is in one week. No one will understand!"

"In my defense, you haven't volunteered to cook anything either."

"But I don't know how to cook anything!"

"Well, neither do I!"

"I don't believe you. I've seen how your mom cooks, I don't believe she never taught you to make anything."

"Well, she tried, but I wasn't really paying attention."

"Come on Katie, please, all of the seniors will be there— I don't want to make a fool of ourselves. I'm sure you don't want to either. I've heard the Johnson boy's gonna be there— he likes you, you know?"

"He likes everyone."

"Not like that he doesn't!"

"Fine. Look, since we only have a couple of hours, we can't make something too elaborate. I'm thinking we could do some wings."

"Sounds good!"

"Great. Let's go and pray we don't burn the kitchen."

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

III.

"You don't like my cooking, Kath?"

"I'm just not hungry, Justin."

"You're nervous for tomorrow's test flight, aren't you?"

"I'm not nervous for the flight per se, but of having you and my father enclosed in such a small space for such a long time."

"I've met your father before."

"But not for so long. My father is... intense."

"Hmm, I wonder who he resembles."

Kathryn dropped her spoon and looked at Justin, annoyed. She didn't like it when people compared her to her father — in fact, it'd been her biggest fight ever since she joined Starfleet Academy.

"Ha-ha, very funny."

"Come on, don't get mad, Kath."

"You know I hate it when people say I resemble my dad."

"I know, but, come on, this wasn't one of those times."

"No, it was worse because you know me. We're engaged for crying out loud!"

"It was just a stupid comment."

"Look, I'm not hungry — I'm going to bed."

"But—"

"Let's just leave it."

Janeway did as she told him and soon got into bed. Hours went by and she just couldn't sleep. She had overreacted. She was nervous for the next morning's test flight. She was dreading how her father would react.

Her stomach rumbled.

By the time Justin got into bed, her anger had completely left her.

"Hey, I'm sorry," she whispered to him. "I don't know what got into me."

"You're just nervous, Kath. It's fine. Here, I brought you this."

Kathryn turned around only to see Justin holding a muffin in his hand.

"I figured not even nerves could prevent you from eating something sweet."

Kathryn smiled gratefully.

"Thank you. You're the best, Justin."

"Only because you're with me."

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IV.

Kathryn was sitting alone at the Starfleet Headquarters' cafeteria. She had a salad in front of her, but she wasn't paying it much attention. She was just moving her fork around, hoping she would somehow find the will to eat it somewhere below the lettuce.

And then, his voice cut through her reverie.

"Kate? Kate Janeway?"

She lifted her eyes and saw him, much more handsome than she remembered him.

"Mark Johnson, it's been a while!"

"It has! Hey, I heard about your father and fiancé, I'm sorry."

"Thank you."

"Oh, sorry I didn't realize you were eating — I'll leave you do it."

"No!" She almost jumped, hitting her knees with the table, making her plate almost fall. "I mean, I wasn't really eating anyway. Please, sit. Or, actually, we can get out of here, take a walk. That way you can tell me what's been of your life these last few years.”

"I would love that."

Kathryn smiled at Mark. His hair was salt and peppery, and he looked a bit fatter than the last time she saw him — the years passed for everyone. The last time she saw him, she hadn't even graduated from the Academy yet. She hadn't lived the thousand lifetimes she apparently had in the last decade.

She hadn't lost the two men she loved the most in her life.

And yet, for some strange reason, that day, seeing Mark after so many years, she forgot about Justin for just a blissful moment.

For just a blissful moment, she felt light and happy again.

The salad stayed forgotten on the table of the cafeteria.

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V.

"Captain Janeway, it was nice of you to come."

"Of course, Tuvok. Are you ready?"

"It is a regular undercover mission. I believe the Maquis will not present a problem."

"I'm sure they won't. And if they do, we'll be right there with my new ship to get you out of there."

"I hope it will not be necessary."

"I'm sure it won't. But it's always good to have a plan B."

"Indeed it is."

Tuvok bowed his head, and Kathryn couldn't help but place her hand on her friend's knee. She knew he didn't usually like to have physical contact, but she couldn't help herself. After all, Tuvok was leaving the next morning, and they both knew the Maquis would be ruthless if they found out they had a spy in their midst.

"Captain Janeway, it is an honor to have you in our home," T'Pel came from the kitchen with the emotionless expression that she had learnt to read as affection. "Please, stay for dinner."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, but I can't really stay."

"T'Pel can replicate non-Vulcan food for you."

"Oh, no, it's not that. I like Vulcan food. I just have already made plans for dinner with my fiancé. I'm sorry." Janeway hated having to decline the invitation, but the truth was, she wasn’t feeling much like having a meal. Coffee always served its nutritional function well enough.

"It is quite alright, captain," Tuvok, of course, didn't seem to mind. "We shall feast when the mission is complete."

"That we will do, my friend, that we will do."

The Vulcan bowed his head, accepting the hypothetical invitation for the consolation that it was.

"However," Tuvok added, "I do not believe neither of us should do the cooking."

Kathryn laughed. She remembered the last time she tried cooking for Tuvok and just how awful the result had been.

"I think we can all agree that's for the best."

"Indeed."

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+I.

Kathryn paced up and down her living-room, more nervous than she had been in a long time — and she had beaten the Kazon, the Borg, and even the inquiry committee of admirals that had greeted them when they returned from the Delta Quadrant!

"Okay, thank you," Chakotay hung up the videocall and got out from the bedroom to where she was.

"So?"

"We have a caterer," he replied, unable to hide a smile.

"Yes!" Kathryn jumped, overjoyed, and ran towards him, to envelop him in an embrace. She kissed him up and down with all the pent-up emotions she had. This caterer was the best in the Alpha Quadrant, one that required of his clients a previous interview before he agreed to cook for an event.

And her husband-to-be had just passed.

"Told you I would get the best of the best for our special day," he said to her once she stopped kissing him.

"I know, but this? I truly thought they would reject us."

"Come on, Kathryn, it's the wedding of a Starfleet Admiral and a Captain. I know we're in the middle of a media storm, but I was fairly positive they would want to cater for us.”

"You're always the helpless optimist. I thought that, precisely because the paparazzi won't let us live in peace, nobody would want any business with us."

"Well, you know what they say: any type of publicity is good publicity."

"I guess you're right."

"Do you want to browse their menus? They sent me four different ones so we can choose the one we want the most."

"There's nothing I'd like to do more in this world."

Chakotay smiled, making her melt with his dimples. They got lost in each other's eyes for a moment before they moved again.

"I love you so much, Kathryn."

"And I love you too, Chakotay."

Quark happily rubs his hands, looking over the new display of "authentic aldebaran whiskey - the real stuff, no synthenol!"

"What is this?!" Odo's voice rudely interrupts his appreciation for his newest acquisition.

Quark quickly turns around, standing between the signage and his adversary. Odo just looks even more suspicious. Ugh, he shouldn't have acted squirrelly, the mall cop can probably smell his fear! Not that he's afraid, or anything. He's a honest-ish businessman with a great sense for profit, what's there to be afraid of? Still, Odo can probably tell that something's off with the bottled-on-Aldebar whiskey by smelling Quark's unease about this situation. Metaphorically, anyway. Or maybe he really can? Quark isn't entirely sure.

"What is what? Nothing is up, my friend, only the highest and -"

"I've gotten seven complaints about the takeaway grill boxes only being half full today," Odo interrupts him. "Did you run out of grubs, or is this another one of your schemes?"

"Schemes? No, there are no schemes! And how dare you suggest I would run out of anything, I am a perfectly respectable businessman and capable of arranging for new shipments whenever my loyal customers -"

"Get to the point if you don't want to spend the night in a cell."

Wow, he really isn't letting him finish a single sentence today, is he? Alright then. "Saying they are only half full is a gross exaggeration, they are filled only 20% less now," and before that, he had already lowered it another ten percent of the original filling level, which had gone unnoticed - well, looks like he found the limit of where the customers stop being happy with the serving sizes, or gone over it at least now he just has to see where to find that perfect sweet spot of maximum profit without inciting a riot - but of course he's not going to tell Odo any of that.

"...and that is because market research has shown the average serving size needs to be adjusted! It is my right to adjust serving sizes however I see fit, how dare you call it a scheme/, I am -"

"Sounds like a scheme to me!"

"Yes, you can't put less in the same package you've always used, keep the same prize, and expect people not to be pissed when they suddenly don't get the food they paid for."

Quark suppresses a squeak. How did major Kira even show up so quickly? It's kind of flattering to think that they need backup to deal with him, but on the other hand he could do without being cornered by double the security.

"Hello there, major! Thank you for paying a visit to my fine establishment, could I interest you in some-"

"If you want to do both of us a favor, you will properly mark the takeout boxes to show how much's in them so we won't keep getting overrun with complaints," Kira snaps.

Offended, Quark squares his shoulders. "I know you are not familiar with the process of running a business, but -" he is not able to finish that sentence, either.

"Quark. Either put more food in the containers again, or mark them clearly with the lower filling volume." Odo slaps a roll of plain white stickers onto the counter next to him. Some of Quark's own prize-adjustment stickers, actually. (Well, prize-raising stickers might be the more accurate term - unless he starts off a new product with an outrageously high prize for as long as he can get away with it until someone figures out how cheap it can be imported or whatnot...) How did Odo even get them?

"Quark!" Kira sounds rather impatient with him already, honestly, shouldn't these officers of the law show a bit of grace?

"Fine, fine, I will increase the serving sizes again," Quark huffs and puts the stickers back behind the bar where they belong. Honestly, as if he would ever disclose something the customer won't like about the product, right on the packaging! That's economic suicide.

"Increase it back to how it was before!" Kira tries to make sure he won't weasle his way out of their demands.

"Yes, yes." back to the previous ten-percent decrease, anyway. He might have done so anyway - he'll have to wait a while and then lower the amount in slower increments next time to really figure out at what point people will start noticing. And maybe the next shipment of takeout containers can be just a small, unnoticeable bit smaller, as well...

Quark hopes Kira and Odo won't ask how long he plans to keep the increased amount of product for. It looks like he gets his wish this time - after another jab from Kira and a suspicious look at the whiskey shelf from Odo, they make their way out of the bar (& grill, & gaming house & holosuite arcade, can't forget the full title with all the perks of the establishment), leaving Quark to slump against the bar for a moment before he gets back to work, shouting at Rom not to laze about when there are customers at a table ready to be served or talked into getting another drink!

Now, he just has to see about hiding the paperwork that shows where the cheap cardassian whiskey mix has been shipped around the galaxy to be bottled and labeled on a lesser known moon technically in the Aldebara system... It's not illegal to label them as aldebaran, he checked, but he's pretty sure that wouldn't stop Kira nor Odo from kicking up a stink about it if they figured it out!