We honeymooned for three days at the Luxuria Hotel near Fisherman's Wharf and I'm sure the rest of the hotel was fabulous, but all I remember of it was the master suite, the in-room Jacuzzi, and a lot of unbelievable room service.

And we called down for food, too, periodically.

I discovered that the man I'd fallen in love with generally went into new things with full-throttle enthusiasm and that included our marriage. Jon insisted we change our status with Starfleet immediately, and tackled all the damned paperwork that went with ruthless good cheer. Suddenly I was in his will, on his insurance and listed on deed paperwork for a redwood and glass house in Sausalito complete with view of the Bay, which left me wandering around sputtering because it was so amazing. (I had plans to update the kitchen, though, shhhhhh.)

Amidst all this bounty I also ended up being called back to Starfleet HQ along with Jon and we headed off to different meetings. He had secret important ones with admirals and representatives while I got to lecture culinary students and discuss my research and experiences with various chef-instructors and cooks. Out of the two of us I'm sure I had more fun because I was in my element in a fun sort of way. I even had a few consultations with engineers about some of the modifications to the galleys which was nice too.

There was one truly sad moment though, and that was when Maalik wanted to get together for lunch. We did and over a plate of steamed crabs he told me he'd been offered a chance to run the Columbia's galley.

"I need to talk it over with you," he was nearly in tears. "YOU were the one who gave me the chance to get into Starfleet, and I'd be happy as your second for another mission, but-"

"But nothing!" I told him firmly. "You've earned the spot, Maalik! Don't you DARE turn this down, you hear me?"

"Are you sure?" Maalik wavered, and I loved him for his loyalty, but he truly did deserve to be head chef in his own right. He'd been there for me for years and I wasn't going to let him miss this chance.

I took his hands. "I'm more than sure and so are you, sweetie. I'll miss you and if you don't vid me regularly I'll hunt you down, but we both know this is YOUR launch, Maalik Singh Khan! You TAKE it with my blessing!"

He grinned and jumped up, hugging me tightly. "Oh Franny, thank you!"

"No thanks needed," I assured him even as I tried not to cry. I was losing him but I was also so damned proud of him. Whoever the crew was, they were getting one of the best chefs around, and I knew he'd be just what they needed. Maalik spent the rest of the lunch taking notes and advice, which was flattering, and we parted a little tearfully but in full support of each other.

When I told Jon that night over wine on the deck of the house, he gave me a strange look, and slipped his arms around me. "Oh Franny, I didn't think she'd do it."

"She?" I pulled back to look at him, and now his expression was definitely uncomfortable. "Jon . . . spill."

"The captain of the Colombia is Erika Hernandez," he told me. "She and I used to . . . be involved."

Ow. I flinched a little at that. Yes I knew Jon had a longer romantic history than I did but I didn't really want to hear about it per se.

I think he understood that because he tightened his grip on me, hands sliding to my ass. "Used to and it was years ago. Anyway, word was out that she was looking for a chef and in a position to lure one away from the Admiral's club. I guess she wanted someone with actual starship experience."

"She could have been really evil and lured me away," I pointed out, teasingly.

Jon gave me that particular look I love; half granite, half lust. "Over my dead body and two destroyed starships. All diplomacy goes out an airlock where you're concerned."

"Funny, I feel the same way about you," I murmured, kissing his jawline and making him groan a little. "And anyway this is Maalik's big chance. He deserves the top spot."

"Good . . . for him," Jon was having some difficulty focusing, mostly because I was grinding up against his thigh and nibbling his cheek. "Franny . . ."

"Gotta pick a new sous," I murmured. "Don't know if I should go with one of the Starfleet recruits or someone from the private sector."

I was mean enough to grope him as I said 'private' because I'm childish that way. Jon returned the favor by sliding hands down the back of my slacks.

"I had no idea recruitment discussions were so erotic," he teased. "You have my attention."

"And now that I do, can I talk you into signing up for the Chef's Special for tonight?"

"Oh I'm up for that," he assured me in more ways than one.

-oo00oo—

The only drawback to all the refittings and preparations for the next trip out was the constant inspection tours of Justine Zindal. My explanation about the Beta Persiens and the synthesized rat situation hadn't sat too well with her, even though it had made O'Neil laugh out loud and even Soloc had looked incrementally amused as he commended me for my compassion in the matter.

She kept prowling around the Enterprise galley and I strongly vetoed her idea of installing a monitor to watch over the kitchen proceedings. I also dismissed her suggestions that I stop sharing recipes with other cultures and leave all supply orders and purchasing to the Quartermaster and his section. It took me a while to figure out why she was so micromanaging, but once I got it, I shook my head.

She envied my position. Zindal had taught at two of the most prestigious culinary schools in the country and had been asked take over the culinary school at Starfleet just after the Enterprise had taken off. I'm sure she took Jon's hiring me as a personal insult to her superior education and was a little jealous of what I'd experienced so far. I could understand the sentiment but I also knew that Zindal hadn't worked as a chef in nearly a decade. She knew the profession, yes, and was well-qualified to teach it, but as for actually being responsible for regular reliable work in a kitchen—no. Zindal hadn't cooked in years.

And now that Captain Hernandez had nabbed Maalik, the double insult of being passed over twice had to sting. I tried to be polite every time I ran into her, but as we got closer to launch it was becoming more irritating to find her in the way.

"She's been here twice this week," Trip told me as he supervised the installation of the new wider tray rails. "Not exactly sweetness and light, either."

"No," I groused. "It's like having your high school principal hanging over your shoulder."

He laughed at that. "We'll be off soon enough and you won't have to worry about it. How's Jon?"

"Busy," I admitted. "I think he's had more meetings than meals this week."

"Not surprised," Trip nodded. "Hey, want to see your new quarters while you're here?"

I did, so Trip left the two engineers to their work and we traveled up to E Deck. "Got to thinking that while the original design was fine for a single officer, the two of you—well the three of you, countin' Porthos—could use a little more room."

We stepped into Jon's quarters and I was delighted to see that Trip had expanded it to a two-room arrangement with a living room/study and the bedroom beyond it. "Oh wow! This is amazing but how did you get permission to do it?"

Trip grinned, dimples deep. "Well it wasn't really a matter of permission. As chief engineer I've got a mandate to 'restructure the interior configurations as needed for maximum efficiency, safety and comfort,' end quote. The quarters on the other side of the bulkhead were going to be assigned randomly, buuut I thought if I assigned 'em to you, then it would be an easy justification to combine them with the captain's."

I hugged him and Trip hugged me back. "This is fantastic! Thank you SO much, Trip!"

"Aw hey, just a little engineering sleight of hand. Glad you like it."

"I love it," I admitted. "Maybe Starfleet will get with the times and make more accommodations like this."

"Maybe," He looked wistful and I suspected why but didn't say anything more.

I made a note to take pictures so I could show it to Mom and Sally too.

I was still getting to know Sally, my mother-in-law and so far she was terrific. Jon and I had dinner with her at one point and I got to hear about what he was like as a kid ("competitive but good-natured, mostly") and as a teenager ('Still competitive but full of hormones.") while he rolled his eyes and tried not to be embarrassed. I was touched when she told me about Henry's last years and how hard it had been on her and Jon.

"We're so proud," she beamed. "I'm biased of course but I'm glad Starfleet knows what they have in him. And to have you in the family too now, well . . . that's the best that could be!"

I made sure I had her on my vid connections and urged Mom to chat with her as well because I didn't want Sally to feel left out of anything. I guess in the back of my mind I knew I'd need to be strong for her if anything happened to Jon, God forbid.

-oo00oo-

Our launch day was only forty-eight hours away and I was panicking because I couldn't get any confirmation from Starfleet about my new sous. All I did know is that they'd interviewed my my three candidates but beyond that I hadn't heard anything and it was stressing me out. Jon was no help; his hands were full with everything from upgrade reports to mission directives, a lot of which were top secret. I kept checking my email and fretting, looking over my possibles.

The first one was a promising culinary student: Villy Tinjex. She was a space rat who'd worked on a few freighters along the mining runs and had a good sense of humor along with working knowledge of galley cooking. The next one was my buddy Rolf, who was happy to do a tour with me and expand his baking expertise in the process. And the last one was a jovial Swede I barely understood, but his abilities with a rolling pin were amazing.

Still, I needed someone I could work with and depend on, and as the hours ticked down, a dreadful suspicion grew. Suddenly things I hadn't realized made sense, and I dialed up Petty Officer O'Neil, feeling a chill in the pit of my stomach.

"Yes, I thought you knew," he rumbled at me over the connection. "Me, I really wanted that freighter gal for the job but the commander laid into her about formal settings and wine lists . . . broke her down on protocol. And much as Soloc and I liked the other two, the commander insisted that as the head of Culinary she needed to do a mission herself."

I cursed and immediately apologized, but O'Neil gave a humorless laugh. "It's okay; between you and me it fits. Sorry Chef; as of your launch, Commander Zindal is your new sous."

NEXT: Well Done II