The day’s hustle aboard had a different character than this morning. Almost two hours into Beta shift and work was still well underway, but a casual observer watching the corridors wouldn’t tell the difference between maintenance crew and people headed to the bar.

Lieutenants Alavan Xenn and Ian Rockwall followed close behind their chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Lucas Olivarez, as they walked the sections between Olivarez’s quarters and the turbolift. A fourth person had joined the party–Lucas’s wife, Rachel, who was carrying a rectangular cake on a covered serving tray. All four were clustered together as if in a road vehicle, dodging the other personnel moving to-and-fro.

The four had left Lucas and Rachel’s quarters amicably and promptly, but there hadn’t been much discussion as to the nature of the dessert–or the upcoming dinner, for that matter.

“Mrs. Olivarez, what kind of cake is it? And it is cake?” Xenn asked, catching up to her side.

“Tres leches,” Rachel responded. “Our family recipe, lovingly programmed into our replicator and thankfully not burned!”

“I think the both of you will like it,” Lucas added, “…that is, if you get a slice quick enough!”

The lieutenants nodded, and then Ian looked puzzled. “This is starting to sound like a potluck. Was everyone supposed to bring something to dinner?”

“No, just the senior staff,” Lucas confirmed. “The captain told us last week, but he also told us not to ‘burden our other guests unnecessarily.’”

“Okay,” said Ian as they all turned a corner. “But, also, why us?”

“Honestly, some of it was my idea, some of it was the captain’s. There’ll be a few other junior officers and non-coms; for some reason he put the thumb on getting his warp engineers in for dinner tonight.”

Ian already regretted not checking the crew manifest, and now he realized he hadn’t looked up the command crew. Who is this captain? he thought.

Rachel Olivarez approached the turbolift door first, and touched the call button with her elbow to keep the cake in balance. Moments later, an entire shift’s worth of crew members poured out onto the deck; the lieutenants and the Olivarezes refilled the space.

“Deck one!” Lucas commanded, as the deck and cab doors swooshed shut in unison.

Deck One, Main Corridor

The turbolift journeyed to the core of the ship, then upward past the Bridge to the modest first deck of the Culver City. The party disembarked and turned left toward the foremost cabin on the deck, marked by large floor-to-ceiling wood double doors with the Starfleet delta etched in the porthole windows.

The doors opened on approach with the slightly louder ch-thwoosh befitting a more ornate portal. The smaller party of four walked in to join the larger party now abuzz with energy in this, the captain’s lounge. The sound of excited chatter and laughter filled the room, backed by upbeat Earth jazz.

Rachel immediately spotted where the cake needed delivery, and made haste to place the goods. Lucas separated in the opposite direction and hovered to the obvious bar. The two lieutenants, however, stood in the doorway taking everything in.

Ian scanned from left to right. The port-side of the cabin contained a well-apportioned galley, where several people in aprons moved in formation between countertops and cooking surfaces. The countertop extended to what looked like a casual eating bar, but in this case was replaced with trays and containers of food, and desserts at the fore end where Rachel was about to put down her cake.

Clusters of people stood in various places in the center of the room, and some were sat on comfortable-looking couches holding cocktails. Beyond them was a large table with seating for twenty; some other clusters were chatting around here, underneath the broad and tall windows where one could see the top of the Starbase Bravo docking bay.

He could see Lucas was already ordering a bottle of a light amber beverage at the bar on the starboard side. Another bartender had grabbed some kind of darker spirit from a cabinet behind the bar–Ian’s eyes widened as he ascertained the diversity of the well-stocked cabinet and wondered how much of the liquor wasn’t synthetic.

Xenn’s scan of the room had taken far less time, and he had already made his way to the bar as Ian was looking around for someone new to meet. Most of the guests were also in casual clothing, save one–a Trill in command uniform with four pips on the collar. She was taking a sip of something deep blue as one conversationalist walked away and Ian walked up with hand extended.

“Captain! Lieutenant Ian Rockwall, pleasure to serve aboard your ship.”

The Trill woman kindly accepted the handshake. “Lieutenant Rockwall, a pleasure to meet you! Welcome aboard the Culver City. I’m Captain Ame Zel, but I’m just a guest aboard ship. Your captain is over there.” Zel gestured with her drink toward the galley. “The one still whisking something, for some reason. I told him he needs to stop at some point!”

Ian’s eyes followed the vector of the cocktail glass to the galley crew he’d noticed before, and spotted the man Captain Zel spoke of. Indeed, he was vigorously whisking a creamy substance in a mixing bowl and pouring it out atop another foodstuff in a glass tray. Zel nodded to Ian to follow and move across the room to the galley.

“Brian, another one of yours.”

“Hm?” said Commander Brian Park, as he flipped from galley mode to captain mode. “Oh! Lieutenant Rockwall, welcome! And welcome aboard–“

Park interrupted himself, realizing his hands were not in any condition for a decent handshake. He put the bowl down and wiped his palms down his apron, miraculously getting all of the whipped cream off.

“–welcome aboard the Culver City. I saw you reported in this morning, straight to work with the engines.” Park finished as he and Ian completed a proper handshake.

“Yes sir, captain…”

“Oh, yes, Commander Park, though you are absolutely right with using the naval tradition.”

“Captain,” Zel interrupted. “are you done with your finishing touches? I’m sure your guests are hungry.”

Brian smiled at Ame, knowing she was poking him. “In just a moment, captain.” She rolled her eyes. “Meanwhile, Lieutenant, please help yourself to a drink if you like. The bar is fully-stocked–I made sure of that! And please, introduce yourself to your other crewmates. We’ll get started here soon.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir.” Ian gave a quick nod to the captain and commander, and then noted some glances between the two officers, wondering what sort of long-standing relationship they had to be treating each other so casually.

He walked back to the opposite side of the room and caught up with Xenn, who was just ordering something fruity and frozen. While Xenn waited for Ian to get something, a human woman walked up to the bar beside.

“One gin and tonic,” she requested.

Ian was indecisive, but that request had given him inspiration. “Classic. Hey, I’ll have one of those too.”

The ordered cocktails appeared in quick fashion. Xenn and Ian were about to walk off when the human woman paused them. “Lieutenants, would you like to join us?”

They saw the woman gesturing over to a Denobulan woman seated at one of several low lounge chairs surrounding a small table. Ian didn’t recognize either person, and wondered how this human woman knew their ranks despite no uniform.

“I see you ruminating, Lieutenant Rockwall,” she smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re your doctors. I’m Cathy. Come sit!”

Xenn and Ian shared a nod and a shrug, then took the chairs opposite the Denobulan and human doctors. Cathy handed the gin and tonic in her hand to her cohort.

“Thanks Cathy…though it doesn’t look like much.”

“It’s an Earth classic, Thrix. I’m surprised you haven’t had one yet.”

Doctor Thrix took a sip. “It’s…simple. I don’t have a verdict yet.”

“That wasn’t yours, doctor?” Ian asked the human.

“No, I don’t drink, I just offered to surprise Doctor Thrix with something. I don’t drink anything actually.”

Xenn had a realization. “Cathy…is that your first or last name?”

“Yes, both. Took me the longest time to land on something.” Cathy responded.

Xenn leaned in. “Are you an EMH?”

“LMH, actually. Though, yes, most modern emergency holograms can now run indefinitely, I was one of the last of the long-term holograms developed.”

Ian and Xenn looked at each other with delight. “That’s fascinating!” Xenn exclaimed. “It’s very nice to meet you, doctor. I’ve always wanted to meet one of the classic LMHes…oh, sorry, I didn’t mean any offense by that.”

Cathy and Thrix chuckled. “None taken whatsoever, lieutenant,” said Cathy, reassuringly. “Nice to know that I–we–still have fans in the fleet. Since Voyager returned, we–“

A sound of a fork hitting a glass interrupted all the conversations in the room, and the music in the background reduced in volume. The attention turned towards Brian Park and his wine glass, as he set it down and removed his apron.

“Folks, I know you’re hungry, so good news, we’re ready for dinner! Come get a plate and some utensils, and get yourself some food from this choice spread.” Brian gestured to the variety of dishes now on the galley bar. “Try everything! It’s all good–I tested everything myself and I am now full,” he said, to some laughter and some groans with eye rolls undoubtedly attached.

The various guests formed a line, grabbing dish ware and silverware, and then picking from the abundance of diverse dishes, some replicated, and some certainly made the old-fashioned way. The table just near the big windows filled with guest after guest as the dinner began in earnest.

Ian stuck with Xenn, and put themselves next to Lucas and Rachel Olivarez. The long dinner table was rife with conversation, some of which turned to the delight at the variety of food served. Captain Zel had ended up behind Ian in line, and emphatically urged Ian to try Commander Park’s own kimchi hasperat. She was right to do so: Ian enjoyed the flavor but was starting to suffer at the combination of the infamous puckery brine and well-aged kimchi.

The long table did make it somewhat difficult to engage with the other senior staff that Xenn and Ian had not yet met, but the positive and raucous energy gave reassurance that conversation would be welcome any other time. The company nearby, though unfamiliar, provided a reasonable welcome to these junior officers in their midst.

Commander Park rose at the middle of the table and clinked his wine glass with a fork once more. The other conversations diminished as all turned to the commanding officer now commanding their attention.

“Folks, I just have a few words–“

“Brace yourselves!” Captain Zel interrupted. Brian gave her a sharp look and sarcastic stink face.

“Ahem. A few words,” Commander Park continued. “I very much appreciate all of you for coming tonight–my senior staff and our esteemed guests alike.” Brian respectively bowed to the junior officers and non-commissioned officers seated. “Not to completely give away my methods, but it is utterly important to me that we all have good time together–not just as co-workers and those in a chain of command, but as comrades and those working to a common goal. There is a Starfleet captain that used to host dinners in his quarters, when space was limited. I admire the precedent he set, and while I’m not him, and certainly not yet in his caliber, I hope that this little tradition builds all of you up, and builds tighter connections in the–hopefully–years ahead on this ship.

“And so, I propose a toast.” Brian raised his glass as the other attendees stood and raised theirs. “To the new crew of the Culver City, may we embark on quiet space and peace from port to port. For your health, I simply say: prost!”

“Prost!” the attendees responded, sipping their drinks.

“And also, if the kimchi hasperat is too much for you, our medical staff knows how to replicate antacid.” Brian joked amongst laughter and some groans, gesturing to doctors Thrix and Cathy. “Now please, enjoy yourselves! There’s plenty for seconds and plenty of drink, but remember, some of you need to be awake for the pre-departure briefing.” Park said amongst more chuckling.

Ian smiled, but in his mind, he was uncertain. This commanding officer exhumed friendliness, but also, came off quite a bit more casual than he was expecting. He’d heard that some captains can be quite stern, and others well on the other side of the personality spectrum. Commander Park, however, was extraordinarily bright. After a moment, Ian dismissed the thought–there was enough diversity in the fleet that quelled any further concern.

The dinner party continued on for several more hours, every morsel of food gone from their serving dishes, and plenty of real alcohol flowed into glasses over and over. Ian limited himself, as did Xenn. The doctors quietly took out hyposprays of what Ian assumed were ways to mildly counteract the affects of not-synthehol. By 2340 hours, Brian Park gently urged his guests out of the lounge with a smile, but repetitively reminded everyone they needed to be serious in the morning.

Ian made it back to his shared quarters, his roommate not anywhere in the common space. He quickly grabbed sleepwear and headed to the shared bathroom for a second sonic shower that day. Ian hoped that his excitement about tomorrow wouldn’t keep him awake like the night before, but he surmised he’d have a 50/50 chance of getting any sleep.

Walking into the shared bathroom, he watched a wall chronometer tick over to 0000 hours. Departure day was here.