When Those Lazy Days End

Posted on 10 Aug 2026 @ 5:41pm by Ensign Taren Voss & 2nd Lieutenant Elora Rykov

1,991 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: S04 Episode 02 The Hackers Backdoor (Incidentals)
Location: Shared Quarters

ON:



The corridors of the USS Tomcat seemed quieter than usual as Ensign Taren Voss made his way toward his quarters, though he suspected that had more to do with his own exhaustion than any actual change aboard the ship given the ordeal that he just had to contend with.

It had been one of those shifts that seemed determined to find new ways to test him. Reports, security checks, unexpected animal-based complications and more than enough problems demanding his attention had left him with little opportunity to breathe, let alone think. Now, with his shift finally behind him, the weight of the day settled across his shoulders with every step.

His uniform was wrinkled with the odd tuft of a feather upon him, the kind that every cat owner knows when it comes to cats and clothing. A slight personal odour from the latest in bizarre incident involving a goose and some tactful 'negotiating' to resolve the situation. His boots carried him forward almost on instinct, his mind already beginning to wander toward the quiet of home.

Toward Elora.

****Mean While****

Elora had managed to get home before Taren for once. After changing out of her uniform and into a comfortable pair of shorts and a loose shirt, she had been struck by a rare and entirely spontaneous urge to be romantic. Unfortunately, romance was not an area in which she had received much practical training.

Still, she had decided to cook dinner.

The small kitchen now looked as though it had survived a particularly vicious skirmish. Several utensils had been pressed into service, the counter was dusted with flour, and something in the pan had developed edges considerably darker than the recipe had promised. Elora stood before it with her hair hastily tied back, one hand resting protectively over the subtle curve of her stomach while she glared at the meal as if sheer intimidation might force it to become edible.

“This had better be worth it,” she muttered, cautiously prodding the contents of the pan with a wooden spoon. “I can dismantle an explosive device under enemy fire, but apparently dinner is where I meet my match.”

Despite the disorder and the faint trace of smoke lingering in the air she had made an honest effort. The table had been set for two, a small arrangement of flowers sat in the middle, and a bottle of the sweet white wine Taren liked waited beside two glasses. Hers, of course, would be filled with juice, but she had decided the thought still counted.

When she heard the door begin to open behind her, Elora quickly straightened and attempted to look as though everything was completely under control.

“Before you say anything,” she called toward the entryway, pointing the spoon in his direction, “nothing is technically on fire, and that makes this a successful romantic evening.”

The doors parted with a soft hiss, and Taren stepped into the quarters, still carrying the weariness of the day's shift with him. He had barely taken two steps before the smell reached him.

His brows lifted. Smoke. Something vaguely resembling cooked food. And, underneath it all, the familiar emotional presence of Elora. He looked toward the kitchen and found her standing there with the wooden spoon raised like a weapon, attempting with considerable determination to convince him that everything was perfectly normal.

For the first time all day, Taren smiled. A genuine smile. He leaned casually against the doorframe, allowing his eyes to travel over the flour-dusted counter, the collection of abandoned utensils and finally the meal that appeared to have suffered some sort of unfortunate tactical engagement. "Nothing is technically on fire," he repeated, amusement colouring his voice. "That's certainly one definition of success."

His empathic senses brushed against her emotions, and beneath the embarrassment and nervousness he could feel something warmer. Affection. Anticipation. A genuine desire to do something special for him. That mattered far more than whatever had happened to dinner. Taren crossed the room, his expression softening as he approached her.

"You cooked." It wasn't a question. His eyes moved toward the table, taking in the flowers, the two glasses and the bottle of wine. Then his attention returned to her, and the smile on his face became something much more tender. "For me."

He reached for the hand holding the spoon, gently lowering it before leaning in to press a soft kiss against her forehead. "Elora..." There was a quiet warmth in his voice. "After the day I've had, coming home to find you waiting for me with dinner and flowers might be the most romantic thing anyone could have done." He glanced toward the pan.

"Although I reserve the right to conduct a full forensic investigation into whatever happened in there." The teasing was gentle, deliberately so. He could feel how much effort she had put into this, and the last thing he wanted was for her to think her attempt had gone unnoticed.

His fingers slipped between hers. "And for the record..." He looked down at the subtle curve beneath her other hand, his expression becoming softer still. "...you don't have to make anything perfect for me." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "You're home, I'm home, and we're together."

Her gaze drifted toward the questionable remains of her attempted meal, and she released a defeated sigh. He was right, of course.

“I just wanted to do something for you,” she admitted softly. “You’re always doing things for me little things, big things and I wanted to…” Her voice trailed off as something caught her attention.

Elora narrowed her eyes at the small tuft of white peeking from the back of his hair. Tilting her head for a better look, she reached up and carefully plucked it free. A tiny, downy feather rested between her fingers. She held it up for him to see, her amused smile carrying the question before she even voiced it.

“A feather?” Her brow arched playfully. “And where, exactly, did this come from?”

Taren blinked as Elora plucked the tiny feather from his hair, his tired expression shifting first to confusion and then to mild amusement. He looked at the little white tuft between her fingers before reaching up to run his hand through his hair, as though expecting to find several more hiding there.

"A feather?" He looked genuinely puzzled for a moment. Then the events of the day began to rearrange themselves in his memory, and a quiet laugh escaped him. "Ah."

Taren went on to explain the ordeal that he had just left, the battle with the wild goose, the tense negotiation and subsequent capture of the creature. He almost made it sound like a horror movie but the grin on his face belayed that. "You should see the location it happened, feathers everywhere, overturned chairs, it was like shore leave to a bunch of marines on a weekend lay over." Taren had experienced a few such...instances....with marines before.

"Do you remember that time you came home and you had someone's hat, holding a glass upside down and you'd lost a shoe?"

She did remember, barely. Not the incident itself, mind you; she had been so hammered at the time that she had nearly forgotten her own name. She hadn’t meant to take the captain’s hat, but she had somehow mistaken it for her own, much to the amusement of everyone who saw her wearing it.

As for the glass well, it had been full when she first grabbed it from the bar. Then gravity and drunken logic intervened and decided that she didn’t really need to drink it after all. Apparently, it functioned much better as a makeshift microphone, while the table served as a convenient stage for an impromptu karaoke performance. Eventually, physics took over, chaos ensued, and one of her shoes became a casualty. It remained missing in action to this day.

Taren smiled as he watched the vague memory play out in her eyes.

He took the feather and placed it in her hair above her right ear, the white contrasting far better in her hair than his own at least. "Much better." He admitted.

"How was your day?"

Elora felt her heart skip as he gently tucked the feather into her hair. After everything he had endured, the small, tender gesture touched her more deeply than she could say. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before murmuring, “It was… educational, to say the least.”

She then took the time to explain everything that had happened what her commanding officer had done and, more importantly, how she and Douglas, the same officer who had dealt with the goose earlier that day, had discovered the two missing Marines. They had been found dead in Engineering, concealed above the waste processing station in an area hidden from the ship’s sensors.

"A fight, would have liked to have seen that." Taren commented.

He listened to her talk further, two dead marines though meant work, statements, investigations, reports. It made him wonder what he was going to walk into in the morning tomorrow.

"And how do you feel about that?"

Elora considered the question. She had tried to push it all so far from her mind, the sight of them, even the smell. She had seen death before; it wasn’t death itself that troubled her, but the unanswered questions of why and how.

Douglas had taken charge of the investigation and instructed her to speak only to S’earr about what they had found. That was why she had been sent home early. Telling Taren didn’t count, as far as she was concerned. She kept no secrets from him.

“I’m confused, and I feel a little guilty,” she admitted quietly. “I know they didn’t die from exposure to the heat in that section. There were signs of possible foul play, or at least, that’s what Douglas said before he sent me away.”

She worried at her bottom lip for a moment. “I just hope it didn’t have anything to do with me or what happened. They didn’t deserve to die. I…”

Her voice trailed off, leaving her uncertain of what else to say. A faint tremble had returned to her hands as she spoke, and her gaze grew distant, as though she were standing in that hidden compartment and seeing them all over again.

"Some may not share you view after what they did, I guess some didn't if that was the result. You shouldn't blame yourself though, it wasn't your fault, they attacked you." Taren spoke trying to sooth her a little, hoping to recapture the mood from earlier.

She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his body so she could rest her head over his heart. She was so glad he was here. After a year apart she had come to miss these moments the most. The feeling of safety and comfort that came only from his arms. "Yes, they attacked me. For that they should have faced justice not death. I know I am not responsible for it." She shifted then her face moving so she could capture his lips. "I don't want to talk about it anymore please." She whispered into his lips before kissing him tenderly. "I just want you, Okay." She added in her next breath. "Just you."

"Just us." Taren spoke, holding her to him. " The three of us."

That made her smile more radiant. "Yes." Her hand went to caress her abdomen. "The three of us." She kissed him again then more urgently now.

[OFF]

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