The Grand Opera Hall of New Hampton City was a marvel of architecture, blending classical Bajoran and Earth Renaissance aesthetics with sleek, contemporary design. A grand dome arched above the main auditorium, adorned with shimmering crystalline inlays that mimicked the constellations seen from orbit. Tall marble columns lined the grand hall, while cascading crystal chandeliers bathed the velvet-lined balconies in warm, golden light. Soft music echoed from the orchestra pit as guests filled the theatre in quiet anticipation.

McCord sat alone in one of the private upper-tier boxes. Her midnight-blue gown shimmered softly under the lights. She had draped her silvery shawl over the armrest.

As the orchestra tuned their instruments and the lights dimmed slightly, McCord leaned forward, eyes searching the stage below. Her heart swelled when she spotted Albie, her son, poised confidently at the piano. He looked sharp in his formal attire, focused, every bit the professional musician. The overture began. The opening notes of Verdi’s La Traviata floated into the air, and the grandeur of the evening washed over her.

McCord hadn’t even noticed the gentleman entering the box until he gently cleared his throat. She turned slightly and met his gaze. He was tall, with neatly combed silver hair, warm hazel eyes, and a curious spoon-shaped depression at the centre of his forehead. His well-tailored charcoal suit gave him an air of distinguished grace.

“Forgive the intrusion,” he said with a voice that was smooth and warm. “I wasn’t aware this box was taken. My ticket told me to come here.”

“You’re not intruding,” McCord replied cordially. “There’s room for two.”

“Thank you. I’m Kravis,” he said, extending a hand as he took the seat beside her, leaving a respectful space between them.

“Sandra McCord,” she responded, giving a polite but firm handshake. “Captain. Judge Advocate General for the Alcor Sector.”

“Ah, then I’ve been seated beside someone far more dignified than I expected. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain McCord.”

“Are you based here on Kovar?”

Kravis shook his head. “Home is at Nepenthe,” he said with a smile. “I’m here on business, mostly. However, I couldn’t resist attending a performance like this. How about you?”

McCord smiled back. “I’m an opera fan, but I’m mainly here to see the pianist. He’s my son.”

“He must be very talented to travel with the Archer Philharmonic Orchestra. What’s his name?”

McCord’s posture softened slightly. “Albie.”

Kravis nodded with appreciation. “It must be a joy to watch him perform.”

“It is,” she replied, allowing herself a moment of maternal pride. “And it’s rare I get to see him often.”

As the opera unfolded, Kravis refrained from interrupting, his attention respectfully on the stage. McCord appreciated that; he seemed content to share the experience in silence. Yet, despite her efforts to remain aloof, she found herself aware of his presence in a way she hadn’t expected.

The final act came to a sweeping close, the voices and orchestra blending into an emotional crescendo. Applause erupted around them. As the curtain fell and the house lights began to brighten, Kravis rose alongside her.

“An enjoyable performance. May I escort you to the lobby?” he offered.

McCord gave him a polite but distant smile. “That’s very kind, but I’m meeting my son shortly.”

“Of course,” he said, dipping his head. “Should you change your mind, I’ll be at the bar.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice called out.

“Mom!”

Albie emerged from the backstage hallway, still in his concert attire. Breathless and smiling, he quickly crossed the distance to embrace her.

“You were amazing,” she said, hugging him tightly. “The whole performance was spectacular.”

“Thanks! I’m sorry I didn’t message you sooner, but I don’t have much time to spend with you tonight. My transport leaves in a few hours, but I booked a late dinner just for us.”

“It’s fine, Albie. Spending any time with you is enough. Come, let’s catch up over dinner,” McCord insisted. She glanced back to find the box now empty. Kravis had already gone. Part of her was relieved.

As they strolled through the wide marble halls of the Opera House, McCord leaned into her son’s presence, her expression softening.

“That man you were sitting with,” Albie said casually, “was he a member of your staff?”

“No,” she replied a bit too quickly. “Just another guest.”

Albie raised an eyebrow but let it go. “You two looked like you were being friendly.”

“Albie, do not go there,” She warned him with a stern expression.

Their dinner took place at a serene bistro along the promenade. The view of the bay through its glass walls was breathtaking. Candlelight flickered between them on a small table set with a quiet elegance. Over a three-course meal, Albie caught her up on life on Archer IV.

“Your grandson just turned eight last week,” he said, pulling up a small holoprojector. It lit up with the image of his son, Jacob, with sandy brown hair and a wide, playful grin, chasing a beach ball across the sunlit shores of Archer IV.

“He’s getting so big,” McCord said, eyes misting. “He looks so much like you, Albie.”

“He asks about you all the time. He keeps asking when Grandma’s finally moving in with us. He misses you. We miss you.”

She smiled, but the weight behind her gaze was clear. “There’s still work to be done here. The station and the sector still need me. And I still enjoy it.”

Albie sighed and reached for her hand. “You’ve given your life to Starfleet, Mom. You deserve time for yourself now. For Jacob.”

“I know,” she said softly. “But I’m not quite ready yet.”

Their dinner drew to a gentle close. As they exited the restaurant, Albie turned and embraced his mother tightly. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t spend all your nights at legal briefings.”

“I’ll try,” she chuckled.

“Give us a call when you can. Rachel and Jacob miss you.”

She watched him head toward the transport terminal, the glow of the city lights glinting off his jacket. It was never easy saying goodbye. Walking back towards the opera house, she wondered if she could catch a transport or shuttle back to Deep Space Nineteen, if not, see if she could get a hotel room for the evening. She walked past a bar and was not paying any attention when a familiar voice spoke up.

“Hello, again,” Kravis was seated at a nearby table, a drink in each hand. He gestured towards the chair opposite with a gentle smile.

McCord hesitated, every instinct telling her to retreat. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite resist wanting to know more about. Albie did say he noticed something between them.

“Can I get you a drink, captain?” Kravis offered. He quickly called over a holographic waiter. “Let me guess, you like Saurian brandy?”

“Just one,” she said as she took the seat and the holographic waiter brought her drink over. “So are you stalking me, or should I call Starfleet Security now to have your credentials checked?”

Kravis chuckled. “Starfleet’s highest law-enforcement officer in the land can’t defend herself?”

“I don’t have my bodyguards and I’m not armed with my handheld phaser,” She replied as she sipped on her drink.

“Do you always go to the opera armed and under heavy escort?”

“Only when the reviews are bad. Do you always ask so many questions?”

“Only to learn more about those who truly intrigue me,” Kravis said, his voice low and smooth, laced with quiet charm. “And you, Captain, are quite the enigma.”

McCord offered a measured smile, arching an eyebrow. “You could start by telling me what brings a businessman from Nepenthe all the way to Kovar. It’s not exactly around the corner or just a simple weekend trip away. Plus, Nepenthe is a paradise. Why would anyone want to leave it?”

He inclined his head slightly, as though considering whether to reveal a well-kept secret. “I might be persuaded to answer those questions if you’ll agree to indulge me in one simple request.”

“Oh?” Her tone was mildly curious, her posture graceful but guarded. She took another sip of her drink.

“Join me for a dance,” he said gently. “There’s a place not far from here with a proper floor and music meant for conversation and movement. No chaos, and it’s just as classy as the opera.”

McCord studied him over the rim of her glass, the corners of her lips lifting just slightly. “You certainly don’t lack confidence.”

“Confidence only gets one so far,” Kravis replied with an elegant smile. “The rest depends entirely on one’s company.”

She didn’t respond right away, letting the weight of the moment settle between them. Then, with a subtle smirk and the grace only years of diplomacy and command could bring, she raised her glass slightly.

“I’ll consider it if you promise not to step on my feet.”

Kravis nodded as he finished his drink, then proceeded to stand and offer his arm towards her. “Then I’ll consider it the honour of my evening.”