“Mind if I join you?”

The interruption to the solitary quiet of the Captain’s Mess, the senior officer’s lounge made from a conversion of the as-designed captain’s mess, broke Nathan from his focus. He’d claimed one of the chairs by the forward facing windows and populated the table beside him with enough padds that it’d take a geological survey to find any specific one. Sedimentary padd formations were a hazard for any officer tasked with administration.

Shaking his head to bring himself into the here and now, he looked up at the speaker, offering a smile, then rising to his feet before a wave of a hand allowed him to abort and crash back into the comfortable chair. “Of course, captain,” he answered, waving to the seat opposite his own.

What he hadn’t noticed initially was that Fleet Captain Tikva Theodoras had ditched her uniform boots, though obvious as she sat down before pulling her feet up onto the chair with ease. And without spilling the large, steaming cup she was bracing with both hands. The rich chocolaty aroma was to sickly sweet for him personally. Something he’d expect of a kid allowed to make their own drink then a ranking officer.

A ranking officer with her career history as well.

“That can’t be good for you,” he said, a nod to indicate the drink in her hands.

“And if you say anything to Doctor Terax, Fightmaster or Gantzmann, I’ll…well I’ll be in trouble.” She had started to say something else, something he expected more along the lines of ‘throw you out an airlock’. Instead she just took a sip, then lowered the cup to sit on her knee.

“Why are you back in uniform?” Tikva asked after a few moments. “And don’t give me what was in your profile, or your correspondence when you got selected for this billing. Give me your words.”

He nodded, thinking with such effort he had to settle into his own seat. “And my feelings?” he asked, getting a nod from Tikva before he continued. By getting him to talk about it, thinking about his reasons in her presence, she’d get more than just what was written. “I’m a teacher,” he answered eventually. “Well, practised mentor more like. Maybe should get around to some sort of qualification one day. But I’m also a patriot.”

“A patriot?” He could hear the concern in her voice. There were more then a few folks who threw that word around the last decade and a half as justification for isolation, or placing the Federation’s needs well above even providing outreach or assistance to neighbours in times of need.

“Maybe not the right word. I believe in the Federation. It’s fundamentals. And I believe in Starfleet as the face of those ideals. Get out there, explore, lend a hand where needed. Be the helpful neighbour. Starfleet has taken a beating the last year or so. So, so much has happened. And all I could think about was all those kids now being promoted before they were ready, or ships running with diminished crews as people are spread thin to keep the numbers up.”

“So, you signed up again to bolster the numbers and share what you know with the next generation of officers?” Tikva asked, masking her face with her cup again.

“That and I was getting bored and wanted back amongst the stars,” he answered with a grin. “Honestly think I was looking for an excuse.”

“Was civilian life that bad?” she asked.

“I left the fleet because I didn’t like where it was going Post-Mars. That’s being swept out the door, and good riddance. So, it’s a place I want to be again. And I was just bouncing around from one thing to the next. Served on a freighter, worked on a farm, lived a year in a cabin high up in the forests of Alpha Centauri. But nothing really grounded me.” He looked at her for a moment, considering her, then asked, “Ever thought about leaving Starfleet?”

“Ha!” Tikva barked out. “Nope!” Gone was the quiet questioning, the seriousness she’d tried to pass off. Replaced with genuine, easy smile. “I knew what I wanted to be as soon as I learned about space. But apparently you can’t be Empress of All Space, so I settled for Starfleet in middle school. And to date I’ve only tried to die in uniform twice.”

“Third time’s the charm,” he quipped.

“Don’t jinx it,” Tikva snapped back. “But no, I love this job.”

“Even the truly weird bits?” he asked, looking out the window at the light blue gas giant nearby, then to the dark blue moon that Atlantis was currently orbiting.

“Some of them I can do without.” Tikva’s own gaze had mirrored his own. “Department of Temporal Investigations is no doubt going to want to know about everything Gabs found down there.”

“Another abandoned pyramid in the middle of nowhere, built in a truly inaccessible locale, tens of thousands of years ago, with paintings of Starfleet ships on the inside.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Honestly, that the last panels didn’t have DTI interrogating Starfleet officers feels like a missed opportunity.”

“Tell me about it,” Tikva said. “Though it might not be time travel after all. Could just be some precognitive species, or individual, who was up to something. But it’s also a matter we’ll have to pick back up another time.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“We’ve gotten orders. We’ll be heading out in a few hours and then we’re making tracks at full speed. Plenty of time to get to know the whole crew, Commander.”

“Long warp bonding is a tried-and-true tradition. So, tell me, what is Atlantis’ traditional crew-wide bonding ritual?”

“You can pick between a pilot competition, the social rugby comp, or singing competition,” Tikva answered. “And the latter, I warn you, is fierce competition.” She punctuated that statement by locking eyes as she sipped from her hot chocolate. “Fierce,” she repeated.

He couldn’t help the smile. Did stop the laugh at least. “Now this I have to see.”