DAY ONE: The Untold Story, Part 3 of 3

Computer Support, USS Texas
    
"Commo room, anybody up there?" the technician asked over the intercom.
 
"Sure," the night commo tech asked.
     
"Listen, our email bandwidth just maxed out. What are you doing up there?"
      
"Nothing much," the commo tech answered. "I was downloading Season Seventy-Four of The Walking Dead."
   
"Nah, that's not it," the computer technician said. "This is outgoing stuff. Enough bandwidth to send our entire database halfway across the Federation. Who's using that much email?"
  
"Let me check," the commo tech answered. "Ok, looks like it's that new ensign, Korak or something. You know, the guy who showed up without orders last week. I guess he's talking to every office he can find trying to figure out where his orders are."
       
"Can't blame him for that," the computer technician said. "At least he's doing it in the middle of the night when we're not busy."

 
Remote Warning Station K42, Klingon Border
    
"What's this?" the lieutenant asked, gesturing to a small crate on the table in the conference room/dining hall.
        
"Heck if I know," the ensign answered. "The chief petty officer said it wasn't on the supply manifest and I thought I'd ask you before we opened it."
   
"This came with the regular shipment this morning?" the lieutenant asked. The remote stations along this stretch of the Klingon border were supplied by a contractor using an old Free Trader. He won the bid at the contract offering six months ago.
  
"Indeed," the ensign, second-in-command of the tiny station said. "The rest of the stuff is the standard package, a month of food, the standard allocation of spare parts, and whatever parts we special ordered. The chief petty officer signed for the shipment but this box isn't on the manifest. That guy is always so sloppy with his paperwork. At least this time he was a week early instead of a week late."
  
"What the..." the lieutenant said as he opened the crate. He pulled out a bottle of champagne. "Lobster, pate de foie gras, quiche... some admiral is wondering where this is!"
 
"Let's eat!" the ensign said, keying the intercom.

        

"A toast," the lieutenant said to the assembled crew. "To a continuation of the peace." During dinner, a few remarked that the food tasted funny, and then everyone got sleepy.