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Egg, Nog

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As Chief O’Brien stood on a crate and finished his toast to the engineering crew of Deep Space Nine, Nog cheered along with the rest of his crew. Another year come to a close, or so the Chief said. In reality, rotating Bajor and light years from Earth, who knew when New Years actually was? Nog only kept track of Hew-Mon holidays to grab the best deals on gifts for his friends.

But as the celebration bustled through the upper pylon, Nog couldn’t help being filled with winter joy. Ferenginar nearly never saw, what did Jake call it, Snaw? Cold, frozen rain. It didn’t sound enjoyable, but Nog had learned to trust Jake’s recommendation.

His glass of root beer finished, Nog brought the cup back to the makeshift bar his uncle had set up in the work camp. Chief O’Brien had the crew modifying some of the polarized reflector outswitches on the upper pylons and while the spirit of the holiday was important for group morale, the work had to be completed soon. No time to rush down to Quark’s for some synthale, so why not rush Quark’s up to us?

“One root beer please,” Nog asked the bartender, strangely human instead of Quark’s normal Ferengi staff, ordering another round of the quintessential Starfleet drink. But to his disappointment, the bartender only shook his head. This bartender had a mystical holiday cheer to him. Glasses, bowtie, suspenders, and a holiday vest on, the bartender was dressed for the season, and his nametag, written “Jeff”, sparkled with peppermint cheer.

“We’re out of root beer, but if you’re looking for another insidiously cloying and happy drink (most Ferengi detested root beer) I’ve got something shipped right from Federation HQ itself!”

The bartender slid a glass of thick liquid to Nog, as the levels waved from movement the drink clung to the sides of the glass not unlike the Cardassian drink, kanar, just less… green.

As Nog took a sip of the thick drink his eyes widened. Notes of sweet cream, Hew-Mon spices, and just a touch of synthale. “This is fantastic, what is it?” He asked.

“An eggnog,” the bartender answered, “Tell your starfleet friends, we’ve got four cases of it at Quark’s and no one’s buying. They were just marked ‘Holiday Beverage’ but nobody thought to follow Rule of Acquisition number 272 - “

Nog followed the bartender in reciting: “Always inspect the merchandise before making a deal.”

Nog thanked the bartender and took his drink back into the crowd of engineers. Finished with his speech, O’Brien hopped down from his crate and clapped Nog on the shoulder.

“Whatcha got there, Nog?” the Hew-Mon asked.

“I think he said it was called an egg. Have you had one before?” answered Nog.

“An egg? Oh, you mean an eggnog! Yeah I’ve had them loads of times on Earth, but it’s hard to find good Nog out here on the station.”

“What are you talking about, Chief, I’m always good! I’m the best junior cadet on your team! And yes, that’s what I said, an egg!”

O’Brien laughed and shook his head, “That you are, and it’s called an ‘eggnog’, Nog. The ‘Nog’ is part of the drink’s name.”

Nog swirled the drink again in his cup, and said “Huh, well, this egg, nog, is tasty enough to bear my name, Chief, I love it!” Specks of nutmeg clung to the glass and Nog shared a laugh with his supervisor. As O’Brien left to mingle with the other engineers, Nog took another sip of the eggnog and looked out into the stars.