Quiet Dinner (Part 2)

Posted on Thu Nov 5th, 2026 @ 9:51pm by Captain Erik Norsgaard & Lieutenant JG Caitlyn MacRae
Edited on on Thu Nov 5th, 2026 @ 9:51pm

3,008 words; about a 15 minute read

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

Continued From Quiet Dinner (Part 1)

[Captain's Dining Room]

"Did I ever tell you how I got my Command," Erik asked as he reach for her hand and began rhythmically stroking the back with his thumb. He seldom spoke about his past but one confession deserved another and maybe, his problems might help her. Who knew?

In response to his question she shook her head. She had heard vague details from her brother but had been unable to press him for more detail because he was already suspicious as to why she was so curious about his friend. And she stayed quiet because the small strokes of his thumb on her hand were not just nice, but soothing.

A reminder that he was listening, not running out the door.

"My ship, the Sitting Bull, got caught in a gravitic mine field that killed the Captain and First Officer outright. I had to assume command, give us time for repairs while playing cat and mouse with the Cardassians. Quite the baptism by fire," Erik said. "Wasn't sleeping because I never do when I'm facing something difficult, thinking things through, and worried for everyone while mourning two people I deeply respected. Our counselor at the time, who should have retired about ten years before I was born, I swear, recommended a few things to me. I share them with you now because they helped me and maybe they'll help you. Maybe."

"Box breathing. Breathe in for a count of four. Hold it for four. Breathe out for four. Hold for another four seconds. And repeat a few times. Acts to calm the nervous system. Give you back a sense of control. For me, that was a chance to remember that the Cardassians hadn't found us yet and I had a moment to just ... breathe ... Honestly, I still do it sometimes. That and a combination of hard physical activity and low-stress hobbies. Old Bardon suggested I take up building models but I went with movie and popcorn nights."

She had squeezed his hand, not sure any words could adequately voice sympathy for the losses he has suffered in his abrupt transition to Captain. As he had described the breathing technique she has tried it while listening. It seemed simple enough and certainly worth a try. And she had the physical activity part covered….

“Sometimes you do just need a good movie and popcorn,” she agreed with a warm smile, unable to picture a universe where he would be building models…

"As for you being broken," Erik said. "I don't see that, Cait, but I get what you're saying. You lived under constant threat ... for years ... never having a chance to be yourself. That's impossibly hard. You know, I have a friend who did a lot of deep under cover. I could put you in touch if you think it would help?"

“I think it couldn’t hurt to try talking to them,” she pointed out with a grateful smile. She most definitely did not deserve him. Taking a deep breath she looked at their plates and nodded, “this food deserves lighter conversation and empty plates to keep Chef happy. You mentioned your brother’s homestead. Did you manage to go visit often?”

She had kept a light grip on his hand, not enough to stop him taking it back - just enough to ensure he knew she didn’t really want the contact to stop.

"There's six of us," Erik said, settling in to talk about himself, not something he particularly enjoyed doing, but with her, well it was different somehow. "All twins. Gustav is the eldest; beat Johan into the world by five minutes. When we moved off the homestead, he's the one who suffered most. Needed the peace. Ended up moving back onto the homestead, built his own cabin and married. He's got four daughters now which delights my Dad no end."

“Four! Wow, that’s … dedication. Can’t imagine there are many quiet moments but absolutely sure there would be lots of fun ones,” Caitlyn grinned. “And I’m guessing they supply many of the bracelets?”

"Absolutely." Erik glanced down at the woven bracelet on his wrist and smiled fondly. "Last time I was there, they insisted on painting my toe nails cherry red. And wasn't that a sight to behold."

“A bold choice,” she laughed, picturing it all too easily in her head. “And a sure sign that they love their uncle.”

"And I love them right back," Erik said, "though, to answer your original question, no I don't get back too often." He gestured toward the room, and the ship, that surrounded them. "I work in space. Not a lot of time for visits, I'm afraid, and Gustav is never going to leave the homestead. I think his exact words were 'you'd have to kidnap me'. So how about you and your family?"

“My brothers all live on Earth, married, kids… only one niece and so many boys,” Caitlyn smiled fondly. “My grandfather still lives on the estate, so does Rory, my eldest nephew. He’s perhaps a little like Gustav, he prefers being on Harris where it is his pace and he feels most comfortable. And my grandfather needs the help, not that he’d admit it mind you.”

"Naturally," Erik said which was about when the call her brother had made returned to his mind. Once he reached command level, he became a sort of vault. He kept secrets because that was part of what he had signed up for but ... the call? Even a vault preferred honesty in his relationships. "Something we should talk about," he said. He had finished the entree and set the dish aside.

She was mid bite, frowning at his words. “If this is about the diplomatic training exercise. I can totally explain,” she told him, grinning. She was fairly certain Choi wouldn’t have given him a play by play so she suspected he was referring to something else. “Everything okay?”

"Sure, after today, things have improved a great deal," Erik said, his voice warm and caressing. "Just want to be sure you know what you're in for. Captains work notoriously long hours. Don't have a lot of free time. And I can't always tell you what's going on, especially since my classification is higher than yours. I want this to work but I don't want you to be unhappy either."

Once again the Steward entered to clear plates ahead of the next course, disappearing almost as quickly as he arrived. It was dinner, yet on a timetable run with military precision.

Alone again, she offered Erik a reassuring smile. Appreciating his concern, and sharing it. Sort of. “I want this to work as well,” she assured him. “And I know it will not always be easy. And not just because of work commitments or security clearances. I wasn’t lying before when I said our friendship is so important to me. I would love us to be more but I don’t want to jeapordise that.

So I think we keep talking, amongst other things, and we are always honest with one another about how we feel?” She suggested with a somewhat mischievous smile.

Erik laughed. "Something most guys have a problem with, I think ... the whole talking about feelings thing. So how about this, if you're ever unsure about me, how I feel, what I feel. Ask me and I'll do my best to answer. Though I'm not sure you'll have to worry about this much. I'm a fairly simple guy. If I'm thinking things through, I'm not sleeping. If I'm angry, I'm doing extra workouts."

“I’ll remember that,” she promised, “although of the many words I could use to describe you, simple is not one of them.”

He took a piece of crusty French bread off the plate but his eyes snapped to hers as she spoke. "Do tell," Erik said. "Exactly what words would you use ...?"

She regarded him for a long moment, resisting the temptation to tease him. “Loyal, brave, intelligent. Definitely attractive. A huge heart, great feet,” she stuck her tongue out, unable to completely resist, before adding, “endless patience to survive me in your life ... And someone I trust with my life. All day, every day. But if anyone asks I lead with the great feet, obviously.”

"Thank you though honestly, that's the first time I've ever heard 'great' applied to my feet. If it wasn't for replicators, there were times I would have been wandering around bare foot," Erik said, chuckling, "because, at the time, ship's stores didn't carry anything that big. Now they do but back then, fresh out of the Academy, no one could even imagine."

“I stand by my statement,” she shrugged, grinning at him. “Every word of it. And can’t forget to add you were a great pirate hunter.”

"Okay, that's enough of that," Erik said, shifting slightly in his seat. The steward chose that moment to enter, removing the dishes as before and then, returning, this time with a mug of Erik's own blend of tea for him and a confectionary masterpiece for Caitlyn. He left quietly leaving the two of them alone in the room. Erik, offering a wry grin, looked at the dessert and took a contented sip of his tea. "You've made chef's day, you know."

In Caitlyn’s mind it was the other way around. While he had tea to savour, she was the recipient of a beautifully presented chocolate soufflé. The dish was still warm, pleasantly so, with a garnish of strawberries and powdered sugar. It was mouthwatering, the rich chocolate impossible to resist. Even so, she felt guilty for even considering eating something so good, but also for not sharing.

Picking up one of the sliced strawberries she bit into, not surprised to find it pleasantly sweet. “Look outside at the view,” she told him, gesturing to her right as she prepared to take a proper bite, “because me and this soufflé need a moment alone.”

"I will never understand the attraction," Erik said, though he obliged by settling back into his seat and studying the depths of his teacup for a few moments. The silence, while she ... communed? ... with her soufflé, was a comfortable one and he felt no particular need to fill every second with sound. All it lacked, he thought, was a fireplace and some music in the background to be perfect.

“Chocolate soothes my soul,” Caitlyn offered with a warm smile by way of explanation before she focused on eating. Every bite was delicious, the richness not too sweet and just enough to ensure she couldn’t eat too much. Although she would happily eat more.

When it was finished she poured a little bit as she set aside the spoon. “If I am sad or feeling … lost…. chocolate always helps me feel a little better. The worst thing about being a pirate? Orions do not have chocolate - at least not like we know it. I don’t know how they ever survived this long.”

"Pure spite," Erik answered, "or at least that's what the COB on my last ship used to say." He took a long sip of tea, considering, the idea of what made him feel better when he was down. And the idea came to him as he sat there, watching her eat her dessert, that it was always people he cared about. Bjorn, his identical twin, his brothers, Lizzie for a while. Family. And when that wasn't available ... "For me, its hard workouts. And when I can, spending time with people I care about. How did you discover chocolate as your 'go-to' for feeling better? I mean, for me, it's obvious. Six brothers. There was always someone around. And when being a twin myself, there's always been Bjorn."

There was a lightness about him when she spoke of his family that was unmistakable, especially when you realised it was there. “The feral Norsgaard boys,” she grinned, recalling his own very honest recollection of his childhood when they had drinks at the starbase.

“I have four brothers, all older. They didn’t really want the baby of the family following them around let alone a girl so most of the time it would be me and our seanair,” she confided before correcting herself, “seanair is Gaelic for grandfather."

"Anyway, he had a sweet tooth and was not allowed any chocolate and the like. What my grandmother didn’t know - or pretended not to know - was that he kept a secret stash of chocolate chip cookies that his sister would bake and smuggle into the house whenever she visited. And whenever we went on walks he would bring them along and we’d eat them as he told his wild stories, or on days when my brothers were especially horrible he’d bring some to my hiding spot. So that’s where it started.”

"Tied to your best memories," Erik mused. "That makes sense. So, eating chocolate ... that takes you back to the love and safety of those days. I like that though ... not the chocolate." He held his tea cup, half-finished now, cradled in one hand. "Though knowing you, you got your revenge ... eventually."

She flashed him a mischievous grin, “as if I would do such a thing…. But yes, most definitely. I do miss those days. My grandparents put up with a lot. Looking back she was the strict one because my grandfather just wanted to be our best friend.”

The steward returned to clear the dishes; Erik watched him, because vigilance was hard-wired into his DNA, and because he wanted their conversation to be private or maybe just to continue. The end of the evening seemed to be approaching and he found himself reluctant to get up, to move.

"Not fair to make your grandmother the heavy but, from what I hear, that happens a lot," Erik said. "So, what was your favorite revenge strategy?"

“I think Kyle’s was the most fun,” she admitted, “he was always superstitious and believed everything he was told. He sneaked into James’ room one night and watched this horror movie about possessed action figure. I could hear it and heard him running out the room. By morning he had packed all his toys into boxes - every single one.

So I may have gotten a little creative and in my dad’s old workshop spent time making them look a little … insane…. And then started leaving them in random places. Not all the time, if sometimes go days between but he was so scared he asked seanair if he could bring in an exorcist. And that was my revenge for him cutting the hair off my dolls and locking me in the cellar all night on Halloween.”

"How old were you both when this happened," Erik said, giving her an appraising look, "and how long before he forgave you?"

“He was about fourteen so I was about twelve,” she shrugged, “but my dolls he ruined when I was like five and the cellar was right after my ninth birthday. I was willing to wait for the night moment. He got over it pretty quickly. These days we just disagree on the little things like my career choices and why I won’t play happy families with our father. Kind of the story with them all. James not so much. I mean he understands what it means to be in Starfleet. The others just really register my absence from the big family moments.

I’m sure you’ve had the same experience, missing celebrations or other big occasions because we can’t just magically teleport back home in an instant,” she reasoned. “Spending time with your nieces would be way better than dealing with diplomats and all that’s happened lately.”

She took another sip of wine as she shook her head. “I’m sorry, too much detail for an amazing dinner. Very much at risk of lowering the mood.”

"It's concerning, no question," Erik said waiving off her apology. "And frankly, I'm still trying to get a handle on all of this. Not a straight forward enemy and doubly difficult, given that its largely made up of our own. Schofield is calling in several of us for a big meeting. Try to figure out what we're going to do next. And that's going to be a big part of what I'm doing while the ship gets repaired. Working out a plan of attack."

Caitlyn frowned, “maybe making plans for a time away should wait in case Schofield has more planned than just a meeting?”

"No, not at all," Erik said. "Schofield is only keeping us a for one day so there will be plenty of time for our getaway. Besides, two days of Schofield in a row is more than any being should be forced to endure. And keep in mind, we have our own meeting with him as well."

Caitlyn groaned, “the only saving grace is that we will be in that meeting together, I’ll make the arrangements for the trip, you, me, the great outdoors and as far from all the worries of the universe as possible.”

"Very much looking forward to it," Erik said softly. "A whole trip where I don't have to worry about the arrangements and I have you all to myself. I'll strangle Schofield myself if he gets long-winded. Promise."

“I”ll hold you to that,” she smiled, “although it may be a sign of my bad influence.”

"C'mon," Erik said as he rose smoothly from his seat and offered his arm. "I'll walk you home and try to convince you that there's nothing bad about your influence."

Rising from her seat and taking the offered arm, Caitlyn grinned, “we shall see.”

---

Captain Erik Norsgaard
Commanding Officer
USS Thunderbird

and

Lieutenant Caitlyn MacRae
Second Officer
USS Thunderbird

 

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