Clean up crew

Posted on Sun Sep 20th, 2026 @ 6:15pm by Lieutenant JG Caitlyn MacRae & Lieutenant Daltom Vesper

3,713 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: The Invisible Hand
Location: Crew Lounge
Timeline: Md5, 2330 hours

All was quiet as the last of the witnesses were escorted out. With care, the remaining security officer continued capturing images and taking notes, documenting the aftermath of tensions which had inexplicably boiled over. Fortunately the injuries sustained were minor, although the repercussions for the two petty officers who let this situation spiral out of control would not be. What a mess…

Drapping her jacket over a chair, she waited for the security work to end before she began helping with the clean up operation. While there were people who worked within the Lounge, it was unfair to leave them to deal with the chaos alone.

It did not take long for word of the scuffle to get to Daltom's door. A fight. How annoying! I need to work at this hour because some idiots could not control themselves? I should interview who I can before Security buttons it up. To the Mess Hall I go....

Sauntering in, Daltom took a look at the scene. It was messy. He supposed with food involved, there had to be some sort of mess. What he did not expect was that Caitlyn would be up, as well. He looked at his junior, yet superior officer, strolled up to her and asked, "So, they woke you up too, did they?"

Picking up an overturned chair, Caitlyn glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a familiar voice even as she reached for the next one. “Enlisted start a brawl, it’s my responsibility to deal with it,” she said simply. Technically it did not include clean up duties but she had been in and caused a few bar fights in her time so this was perhaps restoring some balance.

“They are cooling their heels in the Brig until the morning,” she added. “From some of the accusations flying around, it seems the issue is around the sister of one of them… they were not making much sense.”

"The joys of command," Daltom responded sarcastically. He favored Caitlyn with a smile. "Make you want to run screaming back into intelligence, yet?" he inquired while stifling a short laugh.

“Not yet,” she assured him as her boot added to the misery of an already broken glass. She had come straight here from the holodeck without a stopping to change into her uniform and she was slightly grateful for her walking boots right then. “But it’s early days. This definitely wasn’t how I saw my evening going, but as you say, the joys of command. Did security call you too?”

"Yeah," Daltom replied with an accepting shrug. "Woke me out of a dead sleep, too. Don't get too many of those, so I'm a bit more annoyed than I should be." He thought about the situation and continued, "I assume that they thought I could interview people and help deescalate. Then again, maybe it was to evaluate the people involved." He shrugged again. "They were not particularly clear. Nonetheless, here I am."

There was something almost amusing about them being annoyed but for different reasons. “My condolences on the lost sleep,” she offered with a grin, continuing with her efforts. “If I were to guess, they were perhaps concerned they may need your assistance."

I haven’t read all of the witness statements but by all accounts Petty Officer Romano was here, enjoying drinks with an Ensign Patrick from engineering. All was nice and quiet until Davidson arrived, already irate. Words were exchanged and then it got physical. Some reports say it was Romano who through the first punch which seems … brave. You’ll understand when you see them. So whille we sort it out, I thought some time in the Brig to cool off and have some medical attention was a good idea.”

Daltom enjoyed Caitlyn's grin. When she let her guard down, he could tell they had a lot in common. It was a shame the rumors said that she was dating the Captain, but that's how hierarchies worked, he silently lamented. The top always get what they want.

Not letting his private thoughts get in the way of business, he replied simply to Caitlyn, "Can't hurt." Daltom let his eyes scan the room for anything that might lend another clue. "Anyone have any idea what Davidson was upset about? You said that he was irate coming in. Did it have to do with Romano or Patrick or was it something else completely? Whatever it was, it certainly was not likely worth the disciplinary proceedings coming their way."

“Apparently Davidson made reference to his sister but the exact reason is unclear,” she informed him as she carefully picked up a broken glass. “As far as I know neither of them have any history of being in trouble.”

"Maybe Davidson found out that one of them was doing the horizontal bop with his sister and he disapproved. That's usually the way of these things," Daltom suggested. "But, it is only a working theory. Probably will actually have to do the hard work of talking to people."

“And then I will have to decide what the punishment will be,” Caitlyn sighed. “Hopefully after some sleep they will be remorseful and I will be in a more forgiving mood.”

"Why do you hope for that?" Daltom asked, curiously. Was there actually hope for someone in power?

“The remorse or the forgiving part?” She queried as she looked around her for any more help she could offer. His question made her feel a little like she was back in his office a few days too soon, although that was perhaps a little unfair of her. It wasn’t like people didn’t ask questions in everyday conversation, as he had pointed out.

"The forgiving part," Daltom answered. "People are always remorseful after they're caught unless their psychopaths, sociopaths, or otherwise mentally impaired. Most beings still operate slightly above might makes right and fight or flight," he told her cynically. He gave her an apologetic shrug. "Perhaps I have seen too much," he offered, as if to soften any blow, which he suspected was more than unnecessary with Caitlyn.

Having spent as much time outside of the utopian society the Federation liked to project, she knew that he was perhaps being generous rather than cynical. There was a reason why she was struggling to adapt to sleeping without her favourite knife under her pillow.

“Perhaps you should speak to a counselor about that?” She teased lightly. “Forgiving mood because this kind of thing? I expect in some dive bar but not here. I was usually the one causing the trouble but now I need to figure out the best action to take against other people. None of this mess was how I saw tonight going. And probably not what they expected either. I don’t want to make the wrong call.”

"Why talk to a counselor, when I can talk to you?" Daltom returned with a cynical smile and humor. "But tell me, Caitlyn, what would be the wrong call? How do you define that?" he challenged her with wry politeness. "What makes right or wrong?" He chuckled lightly. "I bet you did not expect a philosophical set of questions to your answers."

She had not drank anywhere near enough for this….“True,” she agreed as she handed him a brush. “I think we can both agree helping to clean up after a bar fight is the right thing to do. Actually causing the bar fight? Not so much. But the reason why they got to this point matters.”

The Counselor was intrigued. He, of course, agreed with her, but testing her logic, her sense of justice was important to Daltom. "Tell me, why is that?"

“Because life doesn’t exist in a bubble. And there are reasons - good and bad - for everything we do. To look at one event in isolation, is an incomplete picture. It ignores what came before and led to that moment. I worked in intelligence… knowing the whole story matters to me,” she said with a dismissive shrug. “Call me old fashioned.”

"Where I come from, old fashioned has little to do with knowing the whole story," Daltom responded with an edge to his voice. "However, I like your version of old fashioned. I should get you some chocolates as a reward," he told her with an uncharacteristic chuckle and eerie smile. "Though, I am curious, why an intelligence officer would want to know the whole story. You had a mission and were directed to do it. Did you ever disobey orders for your sense of justice?"

“Why wouldn’t intelligence want to know the full story?” She countered. “As for me, and my missions, they aren’t up for discussion.”

She glanced behind him as one of the operations department entered. Perfect timing, “Ensign Reyas, perfect timing,” she offered, gesturing for the young woman to join them. “Can I leave you to finish up in here? Unless you have an exciting evening planned.”

Reyas offered them both a warm smile which made it clear she was at the beginning of her duty shift rather than the end of one. “Absolutely Lieutenant,” she enthused. “I’m sure we can finish cleaning up in no time."

“Let me know if any problems. Oh, first,” Caitlyn added as she slipped on her jacket, “This is Lieutenant Vesper. Counselor, this is Erin Reyas, part of the operations department. You ever need something, she is your person. Except during the day. She enjoys working during the night.”

“I’m a night owl,” Erin grinned, “but nice to meet you Lieutenant.”

Daltom frowned at Caitlyn when Reyas appeared. The ensing intruder on their conversation had interrupted what Daltom considered fun. However, the frown was soon replaced by his well-practiced easy smile as he turned towards Erin, "It is nice to meet you, as well. I will remember your name and your hours. Should you need to discuss anything, feel free to set up an appointment. I am at your service."

“Absolutely,” the ensign assured him as she headed off to get to work.

Behind the counter, half out of sight, a man stood watching the interactions with Caitlyn, Daltom, and Reyas. He was dressed in a white cook or server's outfit. He was the sort of person that was easily looked over. There was nothing that stood out about him. He was of average height and if he did not slouch would have a medium build, neither fat nor thin. He was neither handsome, nor ugly. His short, straight, dark brown hair was neatly contained in a hair bib. His dark brown eyes were round and tended to droop slightly, as if his eyes knew that he was not meant for anything greater than his position.

Focusing more closely on Caitlyn, his eyes started to lift and a his thin lips started to break into a small, secretive smile. The redheaded lieutenant was beautiful. The Counselor should not speak negatively towards her like that. He would remember it. Yes, the next time that the counselor was in, if he was serving, the counselor should get a small unpleasant surprise. However, Caitlyn.... Even the sound of her name, unspoken other than in his mind made his heart sing. Somehow, he would get her to notice him and then, yes, then, he would take her away from all of this and the rudeness. Where they could be together...FOREVER!

“Guess time to escape and get some sleep,” Caitlyn pointed out as she headed towards the door.

"Is that so? You can sleep after this? Without having made any decisions?" Daltom asked Caitlyn as he followed her out the door, resuming his playful interrogation.

Caitlyn ran a hand through her hair as she stepped out into the corridor. “The decision will still be there in four or five hours,” she pointed out. “I’m pretty sure the decision isn’t going to give me a sleepless night.”

Daltom pressingly asked, "No? Deciding others' fates is that simple for you that it has so little effect?"

“Or I’ve had two hours sleep in two days and would like to make said decision without with a clearer frame of mind and more facts,” she countered as she tapped the wall panel to summon the turbolift. “Or are you advocating for rash decisions?”

"Nothing of the sort, Caitlyn. I think you have missed my meaning. Though, now, I'm concerned whether you can make such a decision at all with so little sleep. What has been causing you to sleep so little?" Daltom asked with concern slipping into his otherwise sardonic voice.

“A new roommate,” she replied as the turbolift arrived and the doors opened, “who is small but mischievous and doesn’t understand sleeping is a good thing•

"Ah..." Daltom sighed, knowingly. "And what is the cat's name again?" He then offered, "Should I take over kitten duties for awhile since it seems to have been both of our fur baby?"

“I debated over it and finally settled on Minx,” she told him as they entered the lift and she ordered it to deck 2. “Thank you for the offer but from what I’ve read we need to find our balance. She is night owl so you are welcome to say hi.”

An invitation to her quarters? That's interesting. Maybe the rumors about her and the Captain are not accurate? "Why not?" he replied non-chalantly, as he stepped into the lift with Caitlyn. "Never dreamed you would keep her."

“It wasn’t the original plan,” Caitlyn conceded. “But her craziness aside, it is kind of nice to have her around.”

The turbolift ride was short, and she led the way. As she opened the doors to their quarters a small bundle of fur came hurtling towards them, slowing down to brush against her leg, purring as she scooped the kitten up. “See, wide awake,” Caitlyn told him as she carried the kitten inside.

Daltom laughed wryly. "You seem to know your fur baby," he conceded. "Did you know that cats carry a single-celled parasite called Toxoplasma gondii that changes the brain behavior in warm blooded creatures to make them more friendly towards the cats?"

“Surely that cannot be true,” Caitlyn frowned as she peered at Minx who met her gaze with an innocent expression and a meek ‘meow’. “Friendly only gets her so far if she stays awake most of the night. She’s too curious for her own good .. which I’m hoping means she will settle down once she realises there is not much in here for her little claws to get at.”

Which was true. She had come aboard with a single bed, had made a few purchases on the base to add in a plant which was still alive - a miracle in itself- a blanket, some cushions and a couple of clothes to make the wardrobe less depressing. Now most of the decor was extra furnishings arranged for Minx. Although she seemed to prefer doing her own thing.

"It is true," Daltom insisted. "Feel free to check it with the computer, if you do not believe me. Now, as to her curiosity, you should be careful. I have heard that kills cats...."

“Ah, but they also have nine lives,” she reminded him as she set the kitten down on the floor to let her move towards Vesper in her own time, sure that she would out of the same curiosity if nothing else. “Don’t suppose you did a spot of cat psychology during your time learning to be a counselor?”

"Can't say that I did," he answered simply. "We did not have cats on Ardana. The first time that I encountered one was in the Academy."

“Did they have other kinds of pets?” Caitlyn asked as she slipped off her boots and out the away. She knew very little of his homeworld while in comparison everyone knew a lot about Earth. Having a pet was not something unique to Humans, many other species had an equivalent but not all.

"Did they, who? Ardanans?" he wondered. "If so, those in the Clouds or we Trogs?"

“Yes Ardanans, if either one had pets,” she confirmed as she pointed to the replicator, “would you like anything to drink?”

"Of course. Both of us have pets. However, those in the clouds tend to prefer flying species where as those on the ground prefer those that have feet. A rather popular pet for Trogs are Murrs. They're about the size of an adult Terran house cat. They have six paws and whiskers. They're rather loyal to their owners and very sensitive to changes in temperature, wind, those who are foreign, and especially air pressure, which makes them indespensible in the mines. They eat insects. Their language is sort of a series of clicks and chirps."

“So not quite willing to sell their soul for a saucer of milk and a holographic mouse to chase?” Caitlyn mused as she glanced at Minx, “hope you are listening little buddy.”

Minx looked between them, head tilted for a moment before offering a little meow and jumping up on the sofa to curl up in a ball. Caitlyn rolled her eyes, “now you decide to behave yourself….”

Daltom laughed as Caitlyn focused on the cat and not their conversation. "Of course Minx decided that. It is all designed to keep you off balance."

“In that case, maybe she’d make a good counselor, or interrogator,” Caitlyn mused, “if she ever learned to talk…. Did you ever have a pet?”

"No," Daltom answered. "I never did." He shrugged and answered, "It was not practical for myself or my family."

“Rarely are pets practical, but they have benifits,” Caitlyn conceded. “My grandfather had Collies for as long as I remember, or sheep dogs as some people call them. Generations as working dogs on farms and the like. But most of them were hilariously goofy and some scared of even the lambs. But they were his friends, especially as everyone grew up and moved out. For what it’s worth, I think Minx likes you, otherwise she’d have let you known.”

"Well, Minx certainly should remember me from our initial meeting," Daltom replied nonchalantly as he could. "I have nothing against her and I suppose in a way I could be considered her adoptive father." He looked up at Caitlyn and asked, with a wry smile, "Does that make us a couple?" He then laughed it off. He had heard the rumors. But why not put it out there as a joke. After all, if she said "no," then he knew her heart was elsewhere. If she said, "yes," things might get a little more complicated.

“A cat couple?” she laughed, not missing a beat to avoid an uncomfortable silence. Yet internally she was realising far too late how her offer to introduce- or reintroduce- him to Minx could be misconstrued. It had not been deliberate by any means. He had laughed, yet it had an undertone.…

“How about you be the wise but fun uncle who can keep her on the straight and narrow and counter my bad influence?” She proposed. There was no real way to counter his attention which didn’t risk offending him. And she didn’t want that. She had a small number of friends on this ship - and off of it for that matter.

Not a yes or no. Interesting. Is this a confirmation of her relationship with the Captain? After all, she did not want to be a "cat couple," as she called it. Well, whatever. She's one of the few genuine people out there that I can relate to. "I can't imagine your influence being bad by any objective measure," he finally answered. He then looked down at Minx and said, "But this one.... This one looks like trouble."

“That’s … probably the nicest thing a counselor has ever said to me,” Caitlyn confided with a grin. “And yes, cute but most definitely trouble. Probably not as much trouble as the negotiations with the Cardassians will likely be but it’s a close call.”

"I'm not just a counselor, Caitlyn. I'm a friend," he told her, though there was some hesitation on the word friend. He had decided that was probably the safest word. "I do wish you would remember that. My every moment is not spent with thoughts of trying to dissect your brain. I'll leave that for the ship's doctor. I've seen enough blood in my lifetime." Why did I have to add that last bit? Daltom wondered.

"In any event, negotiations are always the same. It is attempting to discover what either party wants and then giving everyone what they really need," Daltom responded sagely. "If they did not think they could get it this way, then matters would escalate to violence and I think everyone is tired of that."

She had watched him curiously as he mentioned seeing enough blood in his lifetime but she didn’t press him on it since he changed the subject. Instead she offered a small smile and conceded, “I will try my best to remember that, I promise.”

She leaned back against the table. “As a friend, who has also seen too much blood, if you ever need another friend to talk to, you know where I am.”

"I do," Daltom answered simply. His face betrayed nothing of his thoughts if there was anything else that he was thinking. "Perhaps I should let you sleep." He turned to the kitten and lightly scolded Minx, "Do you understand? Let her sleep. Cuddle up in her hair or on her stomach but no waking her up. Counselor's orders."

The kitten raised her head, stared at him and then went back to her nap.

“Appreciate the assist,” Caitlyn grinned as she walked him towards the door. “And the chat.“

Daltom let himself be escorted to the door. "Anytime." He gave her a small smile and exited her quarters. Your move, Caitlyn, he thought to himself.



Lieutenant Daltom Vesper
Chief Counselor
USS Thunderbird

&

Lieutenant Caitlyn MacRae
Second Officer
USS Thunderbird

 

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