Captain’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas
Stardate: 38321.1
As Bruce Keller’s eyes opened a searing bolt of pain shot through his optic nerves and into his brain releasing a groan of protest as he closed them tightly again. His head was suddenly swirling and he felt sick to his stomach though had no idea why, it felt like the time at the Academy he and his quad had gotten drunk on Saurian brandy and Aldebaran whiskey—the hangover afterwards being known as the ‘warp core breach’ forever more. But the night before he hadn’t even had a synthale.
After his shift had finished, he’d headed to the mess hall for dinner, then returned to his quarters where he showered and changed into something more relaxed than his uniform, and then headed for the ships lounge. The previous day had marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Oberth-Class Mark-II U.S.S. Atlas, which had seen a celebration for the milestone among many the officers and crew. Unfortunately, with the Atlas on assignment inside the Theta Maelstrom, they didn’t have the luxury of docking at a starbase and allowing all sixty-six onboard the chance to take place in the festivities—especially not when they were still studying the M-Class planet they currently orbited.
He'd opted to keep a clear head, to allow his crew the chance to cut loose and enjoy themselves, so just how he felt like death warmed up was a mystery. The last thing he could really remember was Commander Celan, his first officer, enthralling all those in the small off-duty lounge with her rendition of traditional ballads from Delta IV, after that everything started to get hazy.
Rubbing his forehead, he chanced opening his eyes once more and pondered of the rest of the crew were fairing. As he gingerly rose his head off the pillow, the bed shifted. For a second he though the ship had been hit by a shockwave, but as he looked to the other side of the bed he found the source.
A prone body, entangled in the sheets, lay beside him, causing him to sit up too quickly and making the room spin. He whimpered and rubbed his tight temples, trying to wrack his brain about what had happened the night before and what would have spurred him to take one of the crew, his crew, to bed! Professor Somak would not have endorsed such fraternisation between a superior and their subordinates, she had drilled it into all her students that a commander needed to maintain an emotional distance with their crew, but here he was in bed with one of them.
Maybe nothing happened, he tried to convince himself, even though he knew he was naked and there were most definitely signs that it hadn’t been an innocent slumber party.
“Frak,” he hissed quietly.
Very carefully, he slid out from under the sheets and got, unsteadily, to his feet. Tiptoeing into the bathroom he looked at his reflection to see dark bags hung under bloodshot eyes. He splashed some water on his face and ran his hands over his close-cropped sandy-brown hair.
He looked at himself. “What happened last night?”
His mirror self wasn’t forthcoming with any new information.
From the next room he heard his unexpected guest stir, grunting in pain—by the sounds of it feeling just about as good as he did. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. This was always going to be awkward, no matter when it happened, so he decided it was better to just get it done and over with.
He grabbed his robe from its hook just inside the bathroom, hiding his modesty, before stepping back into the bedroom. On the bed the familiar copper hair caught the light of the systems star, making the textbook example of bedhead shine.
Keller cleared his throat, causing Lieutenant Commander Htennak to turn towards him. The Ktarian looked as groggy as he felt, but realisation quickly dawned on his handsome face which turned paler as his eyes grew wider.
“These aren’t my quarters,” he stated.
“No, they are not.”
“Any clue as to why I’m naked in your bed, Captain?”
“I wish I knew, Counsellor,” he admitted, trying to sound professional as the awkward tension saturated the air.
* * * * *
Officer’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas
Though she was suffering from an intense headache, a sensation Lieutenant Siraak was not overly familiar with, and her memories of the last few hours were proving problematic to recall, what was of greater concern was why Lieutenant Xan Na-Gharii, her former classmate and now shipmate, was currently snoring beside her. His long silvery-white hair fell over his broad shoulders and fanned out on the pillow whilst his arm was draped across her stomach. Even before she had opened her eyes and saw him lying next to her she could tell he was close, given how long they had known one another she knew his scent and going by just how it seemed to wrap around her like a cocoon she had to guess she was in his quarters.
Just how they came to be in this position eluded her, not that he hadn’t suggested it on multiple occasions, hardly surprising given the promiscuous nature of many Efrosians, though she had always turned him down telling him that she was already betrothed to another. She didn’t know if he could tell that was a lie, but he always made a point of pursuing her even when he was already involved with others on campus.
As she lay there, looking at one of the most handsome men she had even seen, a man who had seemed so smitten with her since the day they’d met as teenagers, she felt the corners of her lips curl upwards. There were many times she had imagined this, waking up beside him and it was just as she thought it would be, his resting face was even more beautiful when it wasn’t projecting the mask each of them wore during the day.
All she wanted in that moment was to roll over and be enveloped by him, to feel his sculpted physique rise and fall against her back and wrap his arms tightly around her. However, the discipline her father had drilled into her since her youth clawed at her psyche, telling her that it was wrong, that the very fact she was feeling anything was a danger and that it would lead to the truth coming out, and if there was one thing he had made abundantly clear it was that she needed to blend in and not rouse anyone’s suspicions.
With her father’s voice ringing in her pointed ears, she gently placed a finger in his temple and with some subtle mental manipulation encouraged a deep sleep cycle. She then traced along the line of his square jaw, feeling just how soft his beard was, which brought back flashes of memory from the night before, she knew the prickle of the facial hair as he’d kissed her—which only made her want to stay there more.
With a heavy heart, Siraak moved his arm off her body and got out of his bed. She quickly found the civvies she’d been wearing the night before (ever since the Atlas had been commissioned the ship’s lounge had had a strict ‘no uniform’ policy, to give the crew a space where they could relax and mingle in comfort) and dressed, before slipping out of Na-Gharii’s quarters, taking one last look at him from the doorway, and headed back for her own.
* * * * *
Officer’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas
The tangle of limbs Ruben de Boer had woken too meant that he was very much trapped in the middle of the bed. Exactly whose bed or how he ended up there was blank. Other than partaking in the ships anniversary celebration the previous evening he couldn’t remember a thing, including just how he had ended up naked and aching all over, wrapped up in between his former classmates Ensign Tathar on his right and Ensign Moll Idahn on his left.
As a cadet, he would never have imagined that he’d be in this position. Tathar was more than just their valedictorian he was the star of their graduating class, an almost heroic figure as he could do no wrong, everyone at the Academy had known who the Rigellian-Dervan was (his tall and imposing form also made him difficult to miss in a crowd), so pretty much the exact opposite of de Boer himself. He was very much a middling student, his practical test scores at the helm pulling up his grade point average, but he never liked being in the spotlight, never wanted any attention focused on himself. Idahn was definitely more on the Tathar side of the spectrum, the Trill being the daughter of two archaeologists she’d grown up on dig sites, so it was only natural she followed their passion into the field and had already had a paper published before she’d arrived at San Francisco. It also didn’t hurt that she was stunning by anyone’s standards, with honey blonde hair, dazzling green eyes, and full lips that always seemed to be smiling—even now as she slept.
Had this been just a few months earlier, de Boer would’ve been the envy of every trainee on campus, but there on the Atlas, their first posting as active duty officers, he felt just mortified. How he’d ended up between the pair baffled him, though clearly he was out of his depth, but he had no way to escape without being noticed.
Help, he begged the universe, hoping for some benevolent energy being to find him in that moment and transport him anywhere else. But no bright flashes or swirling non-corporeal entities appeared above the bed that was his prison.
No, that was being a little too dramatic. While he was stuck between the two, Tathar’s thick warm fur and Idahn’s smooth spotted skin felt great pressed against him, if he was to be trapped anywhere this definitely was not the worst place. Of course, that could well change once the other two woke up.
Tathar growled softly as he dreamt, the sound reverberated down his spine sending tingles along every nerve. Yes, there were definitely worse places to be at that moment.
* * * * *
Stardate: 38321.1
As Bruce Keller’s eyes opened a searing bolt of pain shot through his optic nerves and into his brain releasing a groan of protest as he closed them tightly again. His head was suddenly swirling and he felt sick to his stomach though had no idea why, it felt like the time at the Academy he and his quad had gotten drunk on Saurian brandy and Aldebaran whiskey—the hangover afterwards being known as the ‘warp core breach’ forever more. But the night before he hadn’t even had a synthale.
After his shift had finished, he’d headed to the mess hall for dinner, then returned to his quarters where he showered and changed into something more relaxed than his uniform, and then headed for the ships lounge. The previous day had marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Oberth-Class Mark-II U.S.S. Atlas, which had seen a celebration for the milestone among many the officers and crew. Unfortunately, with the Atlas on assignment inside the Theta Maelstrom, they didn’t have the luxury of docking at a starbase and allowing all sixty-six onboard the chance to take place in the festivities—especially not when they were still studying the M-Class planet they currently orbited.
He'd opted to keep a clear head, to allow his crew the chance to cut loose and enjoy themselves, so just how he felt like death warmed up was a mystery. The last thing he could really remember was Commander Celan, his first officer, enthralling all those in the small off-duty lounge with her rendition of traditional ballads from Delta IV, after that everything started to get hazy.
Rubbing his forehead, he chanced opening his eyes once more and pondered of the rest of the crew were fairing. As he gingerly rose his head off the pillow, the bed shifted. For a second he though the ship had been hit by a shockwave, but as he looked to the other side of the bed he found the source.
A prone body, entangled in the sheets, lay beside him, causing him to sit up too quickly and making the room spin. He whimpered and rubbed his tight temples, trying to wrack his brain about what had happened the night before and what would have spurred him to take one of the crew, his crew, to bed! Professor Somak would not have endorsed such fraternisation between a superior and their subordinates, she had drilled it into all her students that a commander needed to maintain an emotional distance with their crew, but here he was in bed with one of them.
Maybe nothing happened, he tried to convince himself, even though he knew he was naked and there were most definitely signs that it hadn’t been an innocent slumber party.
“Frak,” he hissed quietly.
Very carefully, he slid out from under the sheets and got, unsteadily, to his feet. Tiptoeing into the bathroom he looked at his reflection to see dark bags hung under bloodshot eyes. He splashed some water on his face and ran his hands over his close-cropped sandy-brown hair.
He looked at himself. “What happened last night?”
His mirror self wasn’t forthcoming with any new information.
From the next room he heard his unexpected guest stir, grunting in pain—by the sounds of it feeling just about as good as he did. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. This was always going to be awkward, no matter when it happened, so he decided it was better to just get it done and over with.
He grabbed his robe from its hook just inside the bathroom, hiding his modesty, before stepping back into the bedroom. On the bed the familiar copper hair caught the light of the systems star, making the textbook example of bedhead shine.
Keller cleared his throat, causing Lieutenant Commander Htennak to turn towards him. The Ktarian looked as groggy as he felt, but realisation quickly dawned on his handsome face which turned paler as his eyes grew wider.
“These aren’t my quarters,” he stated.
“No, they are not.”
“Any clue as to why I’m naked in your bed, Captain?”
“I wish I knew, Counsellor,” he admitted, trying to sound professional as the awkward tension saturated the air.
* * * * *
Officer’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas
Though she was suffering from an intense headache, a sensation Lieutenant Siraak was not overly familiar with, and her memories of the last few hours were proving problematic to recall, what was of greater concern was why Lieutenant Xan Na-Gharii, her former classmate and now shipmate, was currently snoring beside her. His long silvery-white hair fell over his broad shoulders and fanned out on the pillow whilst his arm was draped across her stomach. Even before she had opened her eyes and saw him lying next to her she could tell he was close, given how long they had known one another she knew his scent and going by just how it seemed to wrap around her like a cocoon she had to guess she was in his quarters.
Just how they came to be in this position eluded her, not that he hadn’t suggested it on multiple occasions, hardly surprising given the promiscuous nature of many Efrosians, though she had always turned him down telling him that she was already betrothed to another. She didn’t know if he could tell that was a lie, but he always made a point of pursuing her even when he was already involved with others on campus.
As she lay there, looking at one of the most handsome men she had even seen, a man who had seemed so smitten with her since the day they’d met as teenagers, she felt the corners of her lips curl upwards. There were many times she had imagined this, waking up beside him and it was just as she thought it would be, his resting face was even more beautiful when it wasn’t projecting the mask each of them wore during the day.
All she wanted in that moment was to roll over and be enveloped by him, to feel his sculpted physique rise and fall against her back and wrap his arms tightly around her. However, the discipline her father had drilled into her since her youth clawed at her psyche, telling her that it was wrong, that the very fact she was feeling anything was a danger and that it would lead to the truth coming out, and if there was one thing he had made abundantly clear it was that she needed to blend in and not rouse anyone’s suspicions.
With her father’s voice ringing in her pointed ears, she gently placed a finger in his temple and with some subtle mental manipulation encouraged a deep sleep cycle. She then traced along the line of his square jaw, feeling just how soft his beard was, which brought back flashes of memory from the night before, she knew the prickle of the facial hair as he’d kissed her—which only made her want to stay there more.
With a heavy heart, Siraak moved his arm off her body and got out of his bed. She quickly found the civvies she’d been wearing the night before (ever since the Atlas had been commissioned the ship’s lounge had had a strict ‘no uniform’ policy, to give the crew a space where they could relax and mingle in comfort) and dressed, before slipping out of Na-Gharii’s quarters, taking one last look at him from the doorway, and headed back for her own.
* * * * *
Officer’s Quarters, U.S.S. Atlas
The tangle of limbs Ruben de Boer had woken too meant that he was very much trapped in the middle of the bed. Exactly whose bed or how he ended up there was blank. Other than partaking in the ships anniversary celebration the previous evening he couldn’t remember a thing, including just how he had ended up naked and aching all over, wrapped up in between his former classmates Ensign Tathar on his right and Ensign Moll Idahn on his left.
As a cadet, he would never have imagined that he’d be in this position. Tathar was more than just their valedictorian he was the star of their graduating class, an almost heroic figure as he could do no wrong, everyone at the Academy had known who the Rigellian-Dervan was (his tall and imposing form also made him difficult to miss in a crowd), so pretty much the exact opposite of de Boer himself. He was very much a middling student, his practical test scores at the helm pulling up his grade point average, but he never liked being in the spotlight, never wanted any attention focused on himself. Idahn was definitely more on the Tathar side of the spectrum, the Trill being the daughter of two archaeologists she’d grown up on dig sites, so it was only natural she followed their passion into the field and had already had a paper published before she’d arrived at San Francisco. It also didn’t hurt that she was stunning by anyone’s standards, with honey blonde hair, dazzling green eyes, and full lips that always seemed to be smiling—even now as she slept.
Had this been just a few months earlier, de Boer would’ve been the envy of every trainee on campus, but there on the Atlas, their first posting as active duty officers, he felt just mortified. How he’d ended up between the pair baffled him, though clearly he was out of his depth, but he had no way to escape without being noticed.
Help, he begged the universe, hoping for some benevolent energy being to find him in that moment and transport him anywhere else. But no bright flashes or swirling non-corporeal entities appeared above the bed that was his prison.
No, that was being a little too dramatic. While he was stuck between the two, Tathar’s thick warm fur and Idahn’s smooth spotted skin felt great pressed against him, if he was to be trapped anywhere this definitely was not the worst place. Of course, that could well change once the other two woke up.
Tathar growled softly as he dreamt, the sound reverberated down his spine sending tingles along every nerve. Yes, there were definitely worse places to be at that moment.
* * * * *
