Not a Tree In Sight (Part 1)

Posted on Mon Apr 20th, 2026 @ 10:17pm by Captain Erik Norsgaard & Lieutenant JG Caitlyn MacRae

3,295 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Friends and Traitors
Location: Starbase 310

He was sitting in some unnamed lounge, chair turned so that his back was to the crowd, staring out into the starfield. His face expressionless, lost as he was in his thoughts, his long legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles, and his hands folded on top of his flat belly. He'd been sitting that way, motionless, for some time, ignoring anyone who approached while his thoughts chased themselves around in tired circles.

“Penny for them?” Caitlyn MacRae asked brightly as she appeared beside the Thunderbird’s Captain, sliding into the chair beside him. Even from across the room she could see he was deep thoughts which were perhaps light years from here. While he was perhaps wanting to be alone, she had no intention of ignoring him and let him dwell on whatever had him so preoccupied.

Around them the lounge was getting a little busier but still fairly quiet, and the tables beside them still empty. There was music playing quietly but nothing she recognised. Which didn’t actually mean much if it was anything recent. Music on Earth had, in her opinion, peaked long before she was born and she was okay with that.

He came back from wherever he was slowly, almost reluctantly, as he turned toward her, his scowl lightening once he recognized who it was. "Nej," Erik said, and then, realizing he'd lapsed back into his native tongue, added, "No. Too much for shore leave. So, what have you been doing with your free time?"

Her expression made it clear she wasn’t giving up so easily but she wasn’t about to push it. “I,” she announced with an overdramatic flourish, “am now the proud owner of not one but two plants. I have done sooooo much shopping and honestly, I don’t really get the appeal. But at least I now have more than two outfits.”

"I do not shop," Erik said with a mock shudder. "I do collect things that are given to me though. Over the years, it's enough to make a place feel more like home. Still have to talk to the engineer about something resembling a fireplace though. Keep forgetting." He gave her a speculative look. "I give the plants ... a week?"

“Rude,” she muttered in mock outrage, pouting. Did he have a good chance of being right? Absolutely. But she didn’t have a collection to make her quarters feel like her home - since her weapons were locked away - so she had to start somewhere.

As she spoke, one of the servers appeared, setting down two cocktail glasses on the table between them before offering a friendly smile and retreating. The liquid inside each glass continued to swirl in a myriad of colour before beginning to settle into distinct layers. “Starburst special,” Caitlyn explained. “Special because it is the alcohol free version. It felt impolite to just order one for myself. It’s not tea but it it is nice.”

Grunting, Erik picked up the glass, eyeing it suspiciously. "En stor stark ... lager would have been better," he muttered and then took a cautious sip. He made a face and set the glass down. "Tastes like candy ... bad candy."

“It brings balance,” she pointed out, “after a visit with a certain Admiral. Which is never sweet. If you are planning on staying, I know the bartender. He will definitely find a lager you’d like.”

Erik grunted in response. "Schofield has a mission for us ... still trying to wrap my head around that."

Caitlyn wondered what her least favourite Admiral - sometimes - had said to have Erik seem so concerned. But she decided on a change of tactics. “Have you eaten recently?”

"Haven't," Erik said. "Told chef to take the morning off. Had the meeting with Schofield coming up and food just didn't seem appealing."

With a shake of her head, Caitlyn stood and held out her hand. “How about some food with a friend?” She proposed. “No dancing required or expected. I promise.”

"Alright," Erik said quietly. "I had wanted to spend some time outdoors but that seems to be in short supply ... so long as you want to breathe that is." He cocked his head slightly to one side. "What did you have in mind?"

“I have no idea,” she confided with a grin, “but it is a big station and as long as the food is not moving around on the plate with a mind of its own, I will eat just about anything. Except Broccoli.”

"Agreed," Erik said as he rose smoothly to his feet, leaving his drink largely untouched. "Let's go exploring then, shall we?"

“Sounds perfect,” she announced as she drained her glass and set it back down. “Full disclosure, I may have had way too much sugar today. I apologise in advance.”

"I'll take my chances," Erik said. As they left the lounge and strolled into the commercial area, he left her choose the direction and followed along, intercepting the occasional idiot making a direct line for her, some times clearing a path though that was unintentional. People just fell back and away from him; something he didn't see the point of but used to his advantage now and again. "You pick."

Decisions, decisions…. Sometimes there could be too much choice. Which was definitely true here. She wanted something with variety but not too crowded although that still left a lot of choice. Rounding the corner she grinned, relieved to find the small restaurant still tucked away off the main walkway. Perfect!

Taking hold of Erik’s arm to guide him towards the entrance, she saw the familiar arrangement of flowers around the entrance while a sign by the door declared Welcome to Nina’s …. . With every step they drew closer and the smell grew more and more enticing. Nothing but the finest ingredients ever set foot in Nina’s kitchen and she was very passionate about that.

“Ever been here before?” She asked curiously. While she had been deciding, she had been aware of him acting - consciously or not - as a self appointed protector. If it had been anyone else she might have called him out on it, but it wasn’t anyone. It was Erik.

"No," Erik said quietly. "I don't tend to spend any more time on the station than I need to, truth be told, and you know how the crew is ... relieved whenever the captain's not around." He took in the flowers, stopping long enough to check the moisture level in the soil, not that he was a gardener but as a sign that it was all real and not some sort of fake out. His expression lightened somewhat as he got a look at the interior. Natural wood furniture and an effort to turn an artificial environment into something ... warmer. "I take it you have?"

“I spent some time recuperating on the station a couple of years ago and someone recommended it,” she nodded, “it has that home from home feel to it.”

"Tables aren't crowded together," Erik said as he caught the waiter's eye and lifted two fingers. "And it's not so dark you need to bring your own lighting to read the menu."

Caitlyn smiled, happy to see that so far, Nina’s seemed to be meeting with his seal of approval. Her smile widened as a man in his late sixties approached them, his shoes as highly polished and meticulous as the rest of his clothing, the same black and white colours as the waiters but with a vest with a neatly folded pocket square just visible. His head was a tad more grey but aside from that -

“Welcome!” The man declared, his smile full of warmth and the word heavily laced in an Italian accent which had never waned in his many years away from Rome. His eyes seemed drawn first to Erik before recognition dawned on him. “Miss Caitlyn! How wonderful to see you again,” he enthused.

“And you Roberto,” Caitlyn replied with an easy smile. “Roberto, this is Erik. Erik, this is Roberto. His family owns this amazing place, and Nina is his wife.”

"Salve," Erik said smoothly. "Hai un bellissimo ristorante, Roberto. Non vedo l'ora di provare il tuo menù."

“Il tuo italiano è molto buono, Erik!” Roberto declared in delight before adding in a more conspiratorial tone of voice as he leaned in, switching back to English, “normally I only hear words in Italian when I have forgotten a special occasion.”

Caitlyn grinned, doubting he ever did such things. She had quickly discovered Roberto was old school, and every morning he had a single red rose delivered to the restaurant.

“Let me show you to the best table in the house,” Roberto continued, lifting two menus from a nearby stand as he led them through the small restaurant. “And you just call on old Roberto if you need anything.”

"Grazi," Erik answered as he took his place at the end of the procession, Roberto and then Caitlyn, to a table set off to the side in a mercifully less crowded part of the restaurant. Being a bit old school himself, he held Caitlyn's chair for her and then, once she was seated, took his own, the one that gave him the best view of the restaurant. Relaxation in restaurants meant being able to see the lines of approach and it was hard enough, what with everything that had been going on of late, to relax let alone sleep. He settled into his spot and picked up one of the menus. He knew something of Italian cuisine and culture from a classmate at the Academy and fair amount of Italian from weekends spent at the family home where Nona made sure they were well fed. "What looks good to you," he asked.

“Everything here is good,” Caitlyn assured him as Roberto gave them space to decide. She opened her own menu even though she had pretty much decided, but studied Erik just as much as the restaurant’s offerings. And occasionally she did glance over her shoulder…

“if you want, we could get food to go?” She offered as she closed her menu, offering him a reassuring smile.

"Go," Erik asked as he looked up at her over the top of the menu. "Thought you liked this place."

“Oh I do,” she assured him. “You just seem tense… and watching the room like a hawk. I promise, the most dangerous thing here is not clearing your plate and offending the chef. But even then, I know every possible escape route.” She reached across the table and touched his hand, “I have your back, always. Even if that means ordering food to go.”

"That bad, huh?" Erik looked a bit sheepish at being caught out and made a visible effort to relax. "Decompressing after hosting not one but two murderers on board is a bit harder than I thought it would be." He mock-shuddered and kept his hand still because he liked the feel of her hand on his. "Good thing I never went for counseling, eh?"

“I kind of think that is a good approach in general,” she teased as she leaned back, “but it is decided. The remainder of the day shall all be about helping you to decompress because you are a great captain and amazing friend. You deserve to be able to relax and have fun. Or as much fun as you can have when it isn’t the great outdoors.”

Erik grunted his agreement because a day spent walking in a forest did wonders for his general outlook though not too many knew that about him. People seldom looked beyond the pips but he was alright with that. Came with the job. "I don't know about great and amazing," he said, "but I am curious as to what we can do on a starbase to have fun."

“Oh I’m sure we can find something,” she assured him with a mischievous grin, “even ones which won’t end up with a night in the Brig. Whatever you want, we will make it happen because you are both of those things, trust me.”

Erik slanted a look over the top of the menu, uncomfortable with compliments at the best of times, and abruptly changed the subject. "I'm thinking Risotto alla Milanese with Saffron and Ossobuco. You?"

Leaning back, Caitlyn frowned. “I’m thinking probably going a little more basic with the Penne Arrabbiata,” she decided. “In hindsight I would have starved myself all day if I had expected to come here.”

As if summoned by magic, Roberto reappeared to take their orders for food and drinks, complimenting Erik’s choice before he moved off. From where she sat she could see that he never seemed to stop moving.

“Do you never regret becoming a Captain?” She asked him suddenly, keeping her voice low so the question didn’t carry.

"Regret it," Erik repeated, "No though I hadn't sought it out either. When the Captain and First Officer were killed, I took command. Those were difficult days but I came out the other side, understanding that's where my path was leading me. Fortunately, Starfleet agreed." He cocked his head slightly. "Why do you ask?"

“Curiosity,” she confessed. “It seems like it can be a little lonely… especially feeling like there has to be a kind of distance from the crew.”

A waiter showed up with water and a basket of crusty bread and a plate of olive oil. Erik waited until the man had left before continuing their conversation. "That's certainly true," Erik said as he picked up a piece of bread and dipped it in the olive oil. "Some days, I don't think they actually breathe until I move on." He grinned cheerfully before taking a bite of the bread. "Lizzie and me, we used to watch movies sometimes. Giant bowls of popcorn with whatever seasonings she dreamed up and themed nights. Rom com nights were the worst." He mock-shuddered at the memory as he dipped the bread again. "I think what I mean is that I found ways to have fun, to not be so isolated, back then. Different now but I manage. If nothing else, I have a gym on the Thunderbird."

“Popcorn or the gym…. Hmm, tough choice,” she teased. “But if you ever need company, I am now literally down the corridor…. Oh! Idea… there is a bar on the upper level that does axe throwing. About as far from romantic movies as you can get.”

"Hmm," Erik murmured as finished off another bite of the bread. "That sounds good. Haven't done that sort of thing in a bit."

“Great,” Caitlyn grinned as she picked out some bread, peeling away the crust as she added, “just don’t be too sad when I beat you.”

Erik grinned back, though is was perhaps a tag wolfish, but any answer he might have made was lost by the return of the waiter, this time with their meal. He leaned back, letting the man fuss, and waited once more until they were alone. "I didn't know it was going to be a competition," he said as his gaze dropped his plate. Marks for presentation, he thought, and the smell ...! "Looks good."

“No argument there,” Caitlyn agreed, taking a bite. “You can never beat proper cooked meals.”

"True," Erik said, nodding, as he lifted a fork to his lips. "Course, it always helps if you can cook which I cannot."

“Not a big issue when there is a chef on hand,” Caitlyn pointed out in between bites. “I’m not a great cook but not terrible. I used to love making cupcakes with my grandmother. Kind of where the sweet tooth probably came from.”

"Never much cared for desserts and such," Erik said. "I even prefer my hot chocolate with a bit of cayenne. And in the kitchen? I'm strictly on the clean-up crew."

“Never under estimate the clean up crew,” Caitlyn chided him with a warm smile. “When I cook it looks like a war zone. It’s the MacRae way.”

"I'm familiar," Erik answered after he'd finished chewing. "Oh, not with your family, but with kitchen war zones. My brother's kids made breakfast one morning when I was home last." He shook his head though his expression was fond. "Horrific is putting it kindly. Every door, drawer, and jar was open and there were drips of ... who knows what ... all over the place, ceiling included."

“I guess that is the beauty of kids, wonderful chaos,” Caitlyn mused, “or so I’ve heard.”

"Can be," Erik said as he lifted another forkful to his mouth, "much like cadets on their first night of freedom at the Academy." He shrugged lightly. "That can be fairly chaotic as well."

“True,” Caitlyn nodded. “I can’t say I remember much of it.”

"Really," Erik said. "Why?

“I may have discovered the world of shots that weekend,” she admitted. “And my tolerance was nowhere near what it is now. I learned I make bad relationship choices when drunk.”

He nodded, considering her for a moment, and spoke, punctuating his statement with a jab of his fork in the air. "And that's about half the reason for all the chaos though with my brother's kids, well, that's just inexperience and bad choices coupled with a whole lot of energy and enthusiasm. And ... now that I think about it, probably much the same thing." He grinned, nodding to himself in satisfaction, and resumed eating. "What's the stupidest thing you did at the Academy?"

“I guess that depends on your definition of stupid,” she countered. “Some may say it was challenging Styvek to a fight after we found out he had reported a friend for sneaking off campus. Or in my second year when I turned pink for two weeks after deciding to jump into a lake after a tricorder because I was so terrified of telling the lieutenant I’d lost it. In hindsight it was stupid in so many ways, you couldn’t even see beneath the surface and I was just diving in like some overzealous lifeguard.”

"The first one is kind of a humble brag," Erik said, "but the second one? Yeah, that qualifies. How long did it take to get the coloration sorted out? And did they let you get it sorted out."

“Only a humble brag if you win said fight. I most definitely did not,” Caitlyn sighed. “Anyway, the pink. Genuinely about two weeks but felt like an eternity at the time. First few days was the worst and then it began to fade a little at a time. It wasn’t harming me other than sheer embarrassment of course. Needless to say my nickname was Pinkie Pie after that. Who I later discovered was some old school cartoon character from My Little Pony… ? It was not a nice time.”

"Pinkie, huh," Erik mused. "Might keep that in mind." He applied himself to the meal and before long the plate was cleaned and, according to Italian traditions, he used a piece of bread to mop up what was left of the sauce. "That was good."

“Feel a little better?” She asked. Outwardly his mood did seem better although she suspected she’d regret sharing that particular misadventure.

"Definitely," Erik said smoothly. "How about we get out of here and throw some of those axes you were talking about?"

“An offer no girl can possibly refuse,” she grinned as she called over the waiter.

Continued in Part 2

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Captain Erik Norsgaard
Commanding Officer
USS Thunderbird

Lieutenant Caitlyn MacRae
Second Officer
USS Thunderbird

 

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