Six Month Ago

Enterprise En Route to Varia

Chris walked by the mess hall on the deck 3, colloquially known as the command deck as it housed the senior officer's quarters and accommodations for guests, and then retraced his steps after noticing it's lone occupant. Typically at this time of the night the room was deserted. After a stop at the replicator he approached the table littered with PADDs and data disks and set a steaming mug in front of Aalin. "If I remember correctly you prefer tea to coffee."

She glanced up. "Yes. Thank you."

"May I join you?"

"Oh … of course … sorry," she said while thinking, why do I lose the ability to speak intelligently when he is around?

"I expect a lot from my crew, but they are allowed time off for sleep. And we are still two weeks from Varia, there's plenty of time for preparation without working overtime." Chris tempered the mild admonishment with a smile. "It's chamomile tea by the way. I hope that's ok."

"It's a favorite of mine. Are you always this attentive to your crew and guests?"

His dimples made an appearance. "To anyone on board who needs a little extra care and all special guests."

Aalin hid her pleased expression behind her mug. "Is that coffee you are sipping fully leaded?"

Chris' expression turned sheepish. "Yes. I'm catching up on work."

"Then I believe the appropriate response is right back at you."

"Have you been talking with Phil Boyce?" he asked with a sideways glance.

"No. I made an educated guess based on careful observation."

"Ah … very well." Chris revisited the replicator, lingering a few moments, letting the warmth he felt when with Aalin settle comfortably in his chest, spread through his body, and soothe away the rough edges of his day. He returned with a second mug of chamomile tea and said as he gestured towards it, "Don't tell anyone, I have a reputation to maintain. And a chief medical officer to annoy."

That triggered a bright smile. "It'll be our secret."

"Thank you for your gift. It was unexpected … and is appreciated … and nice. When I look at it … I think of you." His shook his head slightly. "Wait … that doesn't sound quite right …"

"That looking at a statue of a bearded man reminds you of me?" Aalin tilted her head and favored the usually eloquent captain with a quizzical expression.

"Sorry … not at all what I meant …"

Patting his hand Aalin reassured, "Don't worry, I understand what you meant. And you are welcome." She paused and then teased with a grin, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "Besides, perhaps St. Nicholas reminds me of you."

Chris' forehead creased and his eyebrows drew together. He said faintly, "You see me … as a jovial elderly man with a long white beard?"

Was that disappointment I heard in his voice? Aalin's eyes cast upwards looking at Chris without raising her head. She resisted a strong urge to run her fingers through his hair. Instead she said in a soft voice, "St. Nicholas can always be counted on no matter where you are, no matter who you are, despite any obstacles. That's a rare quality you share. And I like a bit of grey at the temples."

He settled more comfortable in his chair and leaned back against it. "How was your day?"

"Interesting. This ship is a marvel. The level of talent and brilliance among your crew is unusual … and impressive. Everything is a bit intimidating. And you, did you have a good day? Running this ship must keep you busy at all hours."

Chris tried to remember the last time someone casually asked about his day. He couldn't pinpoint the moment but found he liked it and gave himself over to fully enjoying this moment. "It's been a quiet day for us. And my XO handles most of the details. Transit time in well-traveled Federation space is ideal for overdue maintenance. By next week we will be on the outer edge of this sector and running under yellow alert."

"How is that different from the status the ship is at now?"

"Duty shifts are cut from six hours to four hours giving the crew more rest in between. That matters if things get dicey. Additional resources are allocated to the hive. Tactical drills are conducted daily. Repair equipment is prepositioned on each deck. Sorry, I suspect that was more than you wanted to know."

I like how his face lights up when he talks about the ship and its crew. He's proud of them, but the pride is about them rather than his efforts. "Actually I am interested. What's the hive?"

"A large room about the size of the main shuttle bay in what is known as the bowels of the ship." He chuckled, "Officially termed the lower decks. It houses workstations for scanners, sensors, communications, internal monitoring, and other things. Basically it's a hub that feeds information to the senior officers on the bridge and in engineering."

"I had no idea; I assumed the bridge is self-contained."

"That's a common misconception. Though it can be if that is required."

"You expect trouble?"

Chris sipped his tea. "Not necessarily. It's simply a useful precaution in an area that is at the crossroads of three prominent Klingon houses and the Conglomerate. Tensions between the Federation and most of the Klingon houses are presently calm, and mercenaries and pirates rarely choose to tangle with a heavy cruiser."

"Oh, I saw the hive today when Rene gave me a tour of engineering and its surrounds. It was kind of your chief engineer to personally conduct it. I felt like I wasted his valuable time, but he insisted."

That pricked Chris' attention. "Louvier?"

Aalin nodded. "Yes. He sought me out and suggested it."

"Louvier not only allowed a civilian visitor in his engine room without a forcefully written order from me he passively aggressively ignored three times … but he also willingly escorted you?"

"You sound surprised."

"He's very … dedicated to engineering and this ship. And only spends his limited personal time in one other pursuit." Oh, OH, Chris thought.

"He was charming and patiently answered all of my questions."

Chris felt a stab of … something. Amusement? Surprise? No. Be honest. Jealousy. Commader Louvier was affectionately known as Enterprise's Don Juan. In all the best connotations of the word. He adores women. All women. And respects them. And showers them with devoted attention. He quotes poetry to them in French sounding lyrical and enchanting rather out of place and cliched. He pampers them with elaborate multicourse meals. He's a master in the arts of the romance. And he fixes their replicators. What more could a girl want?

But Louvier never pursues a subordinate nor takes advantage of anyone. Chris then reminded himself, Aalin isn't a member of this crew. And she will be on board for at least the next three months.

"Captain?"

"What?" Chris tuned back into their conversation. Time for a change of subject. "I apologize there is no lab available. Space on constitution class vessels is extremely tight."

"My quarters have a generous work area. And when I need a change of scenery I come here."

"Why are you working at 11:00pm?"

Aalin scrunched her forehead and nose. Chris had observed she did this when feeling unsure. "This must sound silly to a seasoned guy like yourself, but my body thinks it's morning which Dr. Boyce says is common for folks who don't regularly travel in space for lengthy periods; that my body can't tell time without the cues of a planetary day/night cycle. And it should correct naturally with over the next two weeks."

"Don't feel self-conscious, many Starfleet cadets experience the same on their first mission."

She picked up a cupcake. "Would you like to share my breakfast?"

Chris raised an eyebrow which clearly and succinctly communicated his skeptical opinion of her nourishment choice.

"It's the breakfast of champions," she added with a smile.

"That is doubtful. Your parents let you eat cupcakes for breakfast?"

"Ummm. No. My brothers and sisters started boarding school at eleven years old. They loved it and thrived. My parents decided I should start at eight as I was shy and awkward around others. They hoped it would improve my social skills and confidence. I was very homesick and … didn't take to it as my siblings did. My family's chef sent me care packages filled with cupcakes at the beginning of the term, on my birthday, on special occasions. They reminded me of home. And remain a comfort food when I am feeling out of place."

Chris found much to unpack in her brief explanation and resisted an urge to reach across the table and caress her cheek. I may know nothing about being a father, but I do know how to help a junior officer find their feet. You don't isolate them, and you don't throw them in the deep end before ensuring they can swim.

"Chris …"

His protective instincts flared when she called his name. He wanted to wrap his arms around her as a shield against anything unpleasant.

"I understand how important the base on Varia is to the Federation. The previous translator for this mission, Nicholas, he's the best at the State Department. I learned much from him. If he couldn't sort out their language, I am doubtful I can."

"Even the best fail, sometimes through no fault of their own. Others then succeed. The first doesn't preclude the later. You never know what unique combination of skills and circumstances will come together into what is needed. I have learned that again and again during years of soldiering and deep space exploration."

"Perhaps …" Her expression and especially her eyes communicated doubt.

Present

Day 1

Enterprise Holding at Station Near Noohra

Chris realized he had been standing in front of the replicator in his quarters for several minutes, lost in remembering that first late-night conversation from months ago. It was the start of a habit which quickly became the focal point of his day. Each day he looked forward to it. Today he deeply missed it.

Ninety minutes until the weapons drill commences. Una and her team were still simulating the timing and logistics of their intervention against the Aschaski reconnaissance flights. Chris had spent the past hour combing through the plan looking for missed details that could derail their objective.

Because if they failed one hundred and one lives would be lost.

Does Aalin realize how vulnerable they will be on the high plains? Is she unsure and scared? She has no one to turn to on the surface for advice or comfort. This last truth was Chris' heaviest burden.

When the replicator finished, he stared at the familiar object on the plate and smiled. A cupcake. An instinctive choice he didn't remember making.