Quiet Dinner (Part 1)

Posted on Thu Nov 5th, 2026 @ 9:49pm by Captain Erik Norsgaard & Lieutenant JG Caitlyn MacRae

3,951 words; about a 20 minute read

Mission: The Invisible Hand
Location: Captain’s Dining Room, Deck 2
Timeline: MD008 - 1900

Deciding she should have trusted her instincts and not answered the call from her brother, Lieutenant MacRae realised she was now - officially - late. Yet she could only hope his unfortunate timing was not a sign of things to come. Otherwise she would have to take a detour and would end up on some backwater penal colony for sabotaging the ship’s internal comm system…

It would take thirty eight seconds. Not that she had any intention of doing it. Those skills were reserved for enemy strongholds, not for ensuring some uninterrupted time with her date. Even if she was beginning to think they were jinxed. .

They made plans, had an amazing time and then something, somewhere would mean one or both was needed elsewhere. Every time. It was -

Frustrating.

Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe.

Pausing by the mirror she tugged on the hem of the only dress she currently owned, before slipping on a pair of heels. Far from perfect but with limited options it would have to do. Minx was asleep so she made her exit before that changed, making the short walk to the Captain’s quarters. Pressing the door chime she waited for his answer just as she realised how annoying the shoes were, slipping them off as he answered.

[Meanwhile ... Inside]

While the Thunderbird made its way back to Starbase 12 for much needed repairs and the crew returned to a more normal rhythm, their captain was much slower in making the adjustment. The Cardassians were understandably upset about the attack which meant that if there were another round of negotiations and Tasat had his way, the meeting would happen on the Ocett. With him off the ship, that would leave Choi in charge and well ... that wasn't something he looked forward to especially since he hadn't reached a solid working relationship with her as yet.

Too many things on his mind which meant he wasn't sleeping again. Prowling the ship in the middle of the night, thinking, had become something of a habit on the trip back to the starbase. The hunter in him didn't like being surprised and so, he walked and thought.

He dressed in black pants and a white, long-sleeved loose-fitting shirt better suited to a pirate that a starship captain. That's what I get , he thought, for leaving fashion choices up to my sister in law. He left the string cross ties at the neck opened somewhat, so that he didn't feel as though he were being strangled, and was rummaging around in his sock drawer for a pair of black socks when he heard the chime. He had big feet, no question, which was off-putting for some and he remembered, as he padded barefoot to the door, how his sister-in-law said that he should never put 'those things' on display if he could at all help it. Chuckling even now at her distaste, he closed the distance and answered, taking in the sight of Caitlyn in a black dress and equally bare feet.

"Welcome," he said as he stepped back so that she could enter the room, "didn't know where you wanted to eat but Chef promises it will be as good, if not better, than anything we could get on the Starbase."

“I don’t doubt it, the man has insane skills in a kitchen,” Caitlyn grinned as she entered, setting her shoes down so they would be out of the way. As she did, her smile widened when she realised he was also standing in his bare feet. “I like the no shoes dress code,” she teased gently, “the shirt is … different…”

As if she was always running around in form fitting black dresses. Tilting her head her smile turned playful as she put her hands on his waist, peering up at him. “We could have made something inedible in the kitchen together,” she pointed out, “although I’m sure even accidentally giving the captain food poisoning is a one way ticket to the Brig.”

"It's a one-way ticket to the Chef's naughty list and trust me, you do not want to be there. Took me months to get off it," Erik said as his hands encircled her waist, "Apparently, the only thing I'm good at in the kitchen is cleanup. Probably why Chef forbids me to cook anywhere on this ship." He pulled her closer. "Sorry about the shirt. My sister-in-law sends me clothes because I only ever buy the same thing and it drives her insane."

“That’s ’also different but kind of sweet,” Caitlyn decided before playfully adding, “I’d happily help you out of it but then we might get too distracted to enjoy dinner and I hear it is a very bad idea to get on Chef’s bad side.”

Standing on her tip toes she kissed his cheek. “Besides, I want to be sure you are okay,” she added with a tilt of her head. “Even if everything had gone well, the negotiations were going to be a potential nightmare and it didn’t even really get a chance to go well. And even though you weren’t physically hurt… this is your ship and your crew. So I just want to be sure you are okay and know that I’m right here, if you need me. Bare feet and all.”

He shrugged off the question though he smiled at her nevertheless. "Appreciated," he said, his voice dropping into a warmer register that seemed reserved exclusively for her. "So, here or my dining room. We'll be alone either way except for the steward who is going to set things up and deliver the food. Your choice."

She deliberated for a moment before deciding. “I think dining room?” she suggested. “Although I am also perfectly happy right here.”

"Just a minute then," Erik said. He disappeared into his bedroom so that he could finish getting dressed. A glance in the mirror from the doorway and he growled, shrugging off the shirt, before disappearing back into his room. He came out wearing his habitual pullover, a soft, nubby white material, over the black slacks. "Okay, we're off."

Caitlyn had waited, amused by his last minute return to change out of the shirt, “Definitely more you,” she smiled warmly, noting he seemed much more comfortable.

[Captain's Dining Room]

The steward had outdone himself. The table was covered in a pristine white cloth and set for two. He had replicated antique Limoge dishware sprinkled in blue flowers with crystal water and wine glasses, gleaming silverware, and a pair of silver candlesticks in the middle of the table. Erik stepped back to let Caitlyn enter first and them moved behind her to hold her chair out for her.

“This is… wow…” Caitlyn breathed as she entered, taking in every little detail. It was extravagant and she was reminded of how her grandmother used to panic whenever she or her brothers got near the antique plates or antiques in general. Needless to say, with the number of accidental breakages, she kind of had good reason.

"Glad you like it," Erik said as he held the chair for her. After she was seated, he circled around to take his own seat. "Though I can't take any credit for it. This is all the steward's doing. He and the chef like to plan these things. I've been told on more than one occasion that I need to start holding bigger dinner parties."

“The heavy burden of being Captain,” she grinned. “It isn’t such a bad idea. And people will never say no to Chef’s cooking. Although all of this is definitely not going to help if we ever need to break out field rations. And also I think we need to have a conversation sooner rather than later with the Admiral.”

She hadn’t planned to say it, not yet, but it had come blurting out anyway. Which was not like her.

He had been about to tell her that it wasn't the idea of a dinner that bothered him, it was more the still, uncomfortable way people were when he invited them. As though eating with him requiring stiff, formal manners. Tedious. Of course, he said none of that. It literally died in his throat as his mind, already in over drive from everything that had been happening, locked onto her last words.

"The Admiral, huh," Erik said. The steward (blast his eyes) chose that moment to enter. He poured two glasses of wine, filled the water goblets, and then exited. Once he was gone (and not soon enough), Erik continued, his voice warm and caressing. "And what will we be talking about with his crankiness?"

She laughed, for Erik was normally far more forgiving than she was of the Admiral’s… style. The entire time the steward had been there, pouring drinks as she offered thanks in the hope he would leave as quickly as he had arrived, she had contemplated back tracking. But she didn’t.

For no matter how good they tried to keep their relationship a secret, she knew all to well that it just took the wrong person to even suspect and suddenly it would be Schofield hauling them into a meeting. She knew they needed to do this the right way - for while her career was hardly stellar, Erik was a different story.

“Us,” she answered simply, reaching across the table for his hand. “It is better he hears it from us before he hears it via the rumour mill. Unless you planned tonight for sad reasons - in which case I got way ahead of myself…”

That possibility had her reaching for the wine.

"Us," Erik repeated. He held her hand within his, his thumb caressing her skin, as a smile slowly spread across his face, lighting them from within. "I had hoped you felt the same but I didn't want to presume either.' He leaned down, turning her hand over, and kissed her knuckles. "Shall we get him out of bed? Camp out in front of his office tonight?"

“Sometimes I worry I’m a bad influence on you,” she teased lightly, relieved that he hadn’t indeed intended tonight to be anything other than a romantic dinner. A rare time to be alone. “Let him have a good night sleep so he is less cranky…. The last thing I want is him thinking badly of you.”

"After the conference debacle," Erik said, releasing her hand so that he could pick up his water glass, "it's anyone's guess what he's thinking of me. Still, as long as we declare, we're within our rights." His eyes, twinkled slyly at her over the rim of his glass as he saluted her. "I may have done a bit of research ..."

“I imagine he is probably more angry with whoever allowed the theft of a prototype ship,” she offered gently as she studied him, enjoying the mischief in his eyes. “Research?” She queried, taking the bait as she took a sip of wine.

"Whether it was even possible," Erik said quietly. He took a long sip of water and set the glass down. "There are Starfleet regulations, which are in our favor, and then, to an extent there's also the captain's prerogative to consider. Just as the commanding officer has final say over his/her Senior Staff and First Officer, there are limitations that can be imposed. My former commanding officer, for example, did not permit fraternization between enlisted and officers nor did he approve of senior staff members in a relationship. He required one of the two to transfer off the ship or resign their commission. And that was within his rights because I checked on that as well. Luckily for us, the 'captain' is on our side."

“Very lucky indeed,”.she agreed, relieved to discover he had indeed done his homework. Relieved but not surprised. She glanced across at the door as the steward returned, bringing entrees. She sat back slightly as he came around the table, making a conscious effort not to tense up when he was close behind her. She was largely successful, although the moment she realised her hand was resting against the knife she moved it to rest it on her lap instead until he moved on.

Caitlyn studied the plate and as the steward retreated from the room she glanced over at Erik, “I have no idea what this is but it looks incredible and smells delicious.”.

"We started with wine," Erik said, his gaze dropping to his plate, but then rising immediately to find her, "but skipped the 'gourgeres' which didn't go over well, let me tell you. This," he gestured toward their plates," is 'Salade Lyonnaise'. After this will be 'Beouf Bourguinon' and after that Le Frommage, cheese and crusty French bread, and finally, 'Le Dessert', but I have no idea what that will be because apparently, that's my penance for skipping the first bit."

“Chef is punishing you by keeping desert a secret?” She clarified, trying not to laugh at the image of chef slaving away over the delicious menu he had prepared - too much of a perfectionist to serve anything which wasn’t amazing and deciding the only possible vengeance was … not revealing the final course. “You are a braver soul than I. Although the wine is very good.”

"Joke's on him," Erik said, "I don't like dessert. Best I do is small taste." He grinned cheerfully. "But the rest should be good.

“Oh I don’t know,” Caitlyn replied with a playful grin as she took a bite, “desserts can be fun. Although with so much food, you might need to carry me out of here. This is amazing. You are kind of setting a crazy high bar for date nights.”

"Don't think you're up to the challenge, eh," Erik retorted. He placed his napkin in his lap and picked up the salad fork and took a small bite, nodding as he did so. "I agree, this is amazing."

Caitlyn took another bite, knowing he was baiting her. As if she would say no to a challenge! “I guess we will find out,” she pointed out. “And it would be rude to waste any of it…. Does engineering have an estimate on how long we will be at the starbase for repairs?”

"Several days, I think," Erik replied. He took another mouthful and chewed thoughtfully, going over the reports he'd seen. Along with all the repairs, we're getting an upgrade as well. That goes along with the new standing orders the Admiral is about to issue."

Curiosity almost derailed her - almost. “If there was time and if you wanted to,” she said, wanting to be clear saying no was an option, “there is a nearby class M planet. Apparently good for hiking and the great outdoors. I thought maybe you would enjoy being out in nature for a little while?”

"Camping out," Erik said, his fork poised midway to his mouth as he considered the prospect, "would be just the thing. A chance to clear my head. And as long as its nearby, they can send a shuttle if I'm needed for anything."

Caitlyn smiled as she took another bite. So much had happened on the ship in a short space of time, she did genuinely think he deserved some time in the great outdoors. And somewhat selfishly she liked the idea of them having alone time. “Perfect, I will double check what to pack. Maybe Chef will give us rations if we ask very nicely.”

"Why don't you and Chef put your heads together and see what you come up with, keeping in mind that he'll also give you explicit instructions for anything that requires any sort of heat before serving," Erik said. "I'm good for menial chores; I chop wood all the time when I visit my brother on his homestead."

“Hopefully no need to chop down trees, but duly noted,” she grinned as she took another bite. “But I can always pack an axe if you’d like. I’d pack two but you’d probably take down a forest and I’d be on the first tree.”

Erik looked at her over, fork again pausing midway to his mouth, "just how long are you intending for us to be out there," he asked. "Generally, we just use dead and down. Going from kindling up to bigger pieces and making sure there's enough to last till morning."

“I’m going to keep you to myself for as long as I can,” she confided with a grin, taking a sip of wine. “I can’t promise it will be as good as your brother’s homestead but I think we will do fine.”

"Hmm," Erik said as he pushed his plate away. The steward, who seemed to have his timing down to the second, would be along shortly with the next course. He could almost guarantee it. "This is sounding better and better." He poured himself a glass of wine as he did some mental calculations. "Assuming the tree is dead, we could get as much as a half cord from one tree and that would keep a fire going for ..." He took a sip, thinking, and nodded. "Maybe as much as 69 hours." He smiled at Caitlyn, his voice low and caressing. "That's nearly three days if we keep the fire going constantly. Personally, I recommend we conserve the firewood."

“I will one hundred percent bow to your expertise,” she assured him as she finished eating. There was no way she would finish more courses. Regarding him for a long moment she added in a grave tone, “one of us will have to break the news to Atticus the Third.”

"And Minx," Erik answered promptly. The steward returned, on schedule, and brought in the next course; portions were small and time built-in to the experience. He cleared the plates, making sure that no crumbs remained, before bringing in the next course. Pristine and perfectly presented -- to do otherwise, incurred Chef's wrath and no one wanted that. He disappeared as quietly as he came, leaving the two of them alone. "You know, I hadn't thought about babysitting issues."

It had been a bad moment to be taking a drink, for the word babysitting wasn’t what she expected and she had to quickly cover her mouth as she almost choked. After the moment had passed she took a small drink of water instead. “Cat sitting,” she said, more to herself. “You meant cat sitting…”

Obviously.

Erik's gaze, turned slightly wicked, as he marveled at the way a light blush spread across her cheeks. "The way your mind works," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Of course, cat-sitting ... unless you're hiding a child somewhere in your quarters which would require an additional visit to the Admiral. Children aren't permitted aboard the Thunderbird." He took a bite of the beef and made a show of how good it was, to give her a chance to recover. "Chef has outdone himself. There'll be no living with him for at least a week."

“Good thing you aren’t dating him,” she reminded him after a mouthful of food and time to recover. “And no. No hidden child. Here or anywhere. Although… the no children rule. Is that a Captain’s choice or an admiralty one?”

"Schofield's," Erik said, mock-shuddering at the idea of dating Schofield, "given the current difficulties, he thought it wouldn't be safe for a child and honestly, I have to agree." His expression turned bleak as he thought over recent events. "Even if they weren't hurt, can you imagine the trauma of living through what we have the past few days?"

“I’m the last person to ask, I struggle keeping plants alive and making it through counselling sessions,” she pointed out.

She wasn’t going to press the matter because it had been insane to even ask at all. Which was why she slid aside the glass of wine. She could certainly understand the reasons, even agree with them. Yet at the same time… “Let’s be honest,” she said more to herself than him, “ Minx is a purring furball miracle to have survived this long. Cats are much more resilient than I thought. Even then, I asked Lt. Vesper if there was a way to help her sleep better.”

"Aah, Lieutenant Vesper," Erik said and then, more gently, "I didn't know you were seeing him."

Her plate became more interesting as she considered what to say. “Since I became part of the crew I was due an evaluation which was… challenging,” she admitted. “We mostly talked about nothing much in the end.

He is perceptive and infuriatingly relentless. Which is nothing against him personally. I have another appointment tomorrow. He seems to think I’m gonna break if the wind changes direction or something. But we - us - is never up for discussion,” she assured him. Leaving out the somewhat awkward moments with Vesper. That was a situation she needed to deal with and set boundaries if needed. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

"Hmm," Erik said, noncommittal and entirely skirting his own opinion of the ship's counselor, as he took another forkful. "If he thinks you're going to break that easily, he doesn't know you all that well." He picked up his water glass, took a sip, noticing. He waited until the plate lost its fascination and continued. "There something in particular that's been weighing on you?"

Flashing him a grateful smile, appreciating not just his words but his patience, Caitlyn resisted the urge to try and make light of it. For one, he saw right through it. And for another … there were few people she trusted completely. And one of the few names on that list was Erik Norsgaard.

“Adjusting has been… harder than I expected,” she admitted. “Not the learning systems and so many protocols - some of which, by the way, I cannot believe someone felt it even necessary to write at all. That is at times tedious as is paperwork but honestly it is not so bad. I even managed to get new uniforms that don’t itch.

But learning to be just me again? Vesper is right, to a point. I don’t think I’m going to shatter into a million pieces, but I know deep down maybe all of those years doing what I did broke something. And I guess my biggest fear is that it can’t be fixed. I hope it can.

Too of the list for now? I want someone to be able to serve us this amazing dinner without feeling like he might be about to attack us when he gets too close. And to not struggle to get to sleep knowing that I don’t have a knife under my pillow in case someone attacks me while I sleep. Again. Which is insane on both counts right? This is a starship, there are locks on the doors and this isn’t some pirate ship or outpost in the middle of nowhere. It should feel safe and knives absolutely should be locked away. So I need to work on a few things,” she conceded before using two fingers to indicate a small distance and adding with a small smile, “little things.”

To Be Continued

---

Captain Erik Norsgaard
Commanding Officer
USS Thunderbird

and

Lieutenant JG Caitlyn MacRae
Second Officer
USS Thunderbird

 

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