One Last Moment - Part 2
Posted on Sat Aug 8th, 2026 @ 5:11pm by Captain Marc Steyn & Lieutenant JG Ikan Seidel & Lieutenant JG Kethyra Vesh & Ensign Kristian Hale & Commodore Charlotte Reyes & Lieutenant Commander Maximo (Max) Vero & Lieutenant Vireya Talvaren & Lieutenant Syvar MD & Lieutenant Reruk & Lieutenant JG Charlie Johnson & Lieutenant S'Kai & Lieutenant JG T'Chiara MD & David Steyn & Leia Beaumont
1,539 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
Season 1, Episode 1: Ashes of Wolf 359
Location: Steyn Residence, Cape Town, Earth
ON
Max seemed to have slipped into the role of Barman. “Doc, Vi what’s your poison?” He asked handing two ensigns something very colourful.
"Poison?" Syvar's look was one of genuine confusion as he stared at Max. "We don't consume poison, I hope? Unless this is some kind of game and we pretend to be poisoned?"
“No … ah no game,” Max said. “It is the slang … it means what drink would you like?” He looked at Vi sheepishly. He had not factored in he was speaking to someone of Vulcan heritage. “I am offering to make you a drink. There’s definitely no poison.”
Vireya glanced towards the case Marc had set aside.
“The cordial I brought, please. Neat.”
Her gaze moved across the room, taking in the growing crowd.
“Feels like the right evening for it.”
Max nodded, “but of course?” He asked reaching for the bottle the red headed alien had indicated. He grabbed a glass and started pouring then it seemed kept pouring, his face suddenly looking shocked as he saw a similar profile well from the back.
“Oh oh I be so clumsy,” he stated reaching for napkins frantically to blot everything while pulling his neck out further looking round people to follow that profile but it was already gone. No it couldn’t be. He reached over for his own drink completely knocking it back. Then subconsciously pushed the other glass towards the security chief not even putting the top back on the bottle again.
“Please Excuse me,” was all he said before hotfooting it away from both of them.
Vi blinked a few time as Max made his great escape. Placing the top back on the bottle with a small chuckle she then began to take a sip of the drink she had brought.
"What is that?" Syvar asked, casting a curious look towards her drink, while he still has none.
Vireya glanced down at the pale amber drink, turning the glass slightly in the afternoon light.
“It’s an El Aurian cordial. Spiced fruit, mountain herbs, and an old recipe that travelled with my family through the Diaspora.” Her smile softened. “Every household makes it a little differently.”
She took another sip.
“It’s gentle at first. The warmth catches up with you.”
Her eyes dipped towards his empty hands.
“Would you like to try some?”
"I do have a preference for natural beverages," Syvar admitted, "does your family grow the herbs and flowers themselves or do they scavenge for them?" A curious creature by nature, the young Vulcan did love to spend his free time getting himself lost in a forest looking for greens that could be used for medicinal purposes.
Vireya’s expression softened at the question.
“Both, originally. Some were grown close to home. Others never took well to being cultivated.”
She turned the glass lightly between her fingers.
“Our new world, Kaitos, is different. We don’t have the same access to them there, and the soil doesn’t always agree with what we brought.” A faint smile touched her mouth. “My family planted what would tolerate a garden. The rest we scattered beyond the settlement and left to decide for themselves.”
Her eyes dropped briefly to the cordial.
“It may be a while before it tastes exactly as it used to.”
Unaware he was actually consuming an alcoholic beverage, not recognised the sharp taste of such a drink as he had no prior experience to draw from, Syvar took a large sip and coughed. "Not bad," he breathed, taking another sip and letting it roll around in his mouth for a few seconds to try and identify the taste. At least the second sip wasn't accompanied by a coughing fit so that was progress.
Vireya watched him recover, the pleased curve at her mouth deepening.
“I’m glad,” she said warmly. “It tends to make a stronger first impression than it means to.”
She lifted her own glass in a small salute.
“Give it a moment. The fruit comes through after the herbs.”
"I will," Syvar promised, "thank you."
Elsewhere at the party
Max sought sanctuary outside standing by the pool as he convinced himself lots of people looked like other people. “La tua mente ti gioca brutti scherzi,” he muttered to himself.
(Your mind play tricks )
The chime rang out, and Charlie froze, breath catching. She hovered there for several long seconds, fingers twisting nervously in the soft floral fabric of her skirt, half-turning away before she forced herself to face the door again.
When it opened, she ducked her head quickly, gaze fixed firmly on the toes of her sandals rather than meeting his eyes. The light, flower-patterned dress suddenly felt far too bold, like everyone would stare. She’d met him once before in his ready room, but this—stepping into a room full of people she’d only ever met a handful of times, some not at all—made her chest feel tight.
Her shoulders hunching almost imperceptibly, she curled her arms close around the small jar she’d brought, pressing it tight to her stomach as if it might anchor her. Every quiet word she’d practised dissolved entirely; she could only manage a tiny, shaky nod when he spoke.
She stepped inside so slowly it was almost hesitant, keeping close to the edge of the doorway as if hoping to slip past unnoticed. When he introduced the others, she only flicked a quick, fleeting glance upward before dropping her eyes again, giving a barely-there dip of her head that was almost lost to her shyness. Her fingers brushed nervously over the jar’s wrapping, and she held it out only an inch or so, as if afraid to draw even that much attention. Her heart thudded so hard she worried it might show, and she shrank just a little further into herself, wishing she could simply blend into the quiet light of the hallway.
She turned back to Marc, having almost forgotten the jar she was carrying. "Thank you for inviting me Captain. Here" She handed the jar of moonshine to him.
"Baie dankie. Welkom!" Marc offered in his native tongue, the familiar words carrying a warmth that came naturally to him.
His smile lingered for a moment as he watched Charlie step inside, but his attention quickly shifted to the young officer herself. It was impossible not to notice how uncomfortable she appeared. Whether it was the size of the gathering, the unfamiliar faces surrounding her, or simply being outside the structured environment of a starship, Marc couldn't quite determine. Whatever the reason, it was something he intended to keep an eye on.
She was young—perhaps younger than even he realised—but Marc found himself feeling a quiet sense of sympathy for her. Yet beneath the awkwardness and uncertainty, he had seen glimpses of something far more significant. Her Starfleet record told one story; their conversation had revealed another. There was intelligence, capability, and a depth of potential that she had not yet fully recognised in herself.
The challenge, Marc suspected, would not be teaching her how to become a better officer.
It would be convincing her that she already had the foundations to become one.
He watched as she carefully disappeared into the gathering, almost as if searching for a quieter corner where she could observe rather than be observed. Marc made a mental note to check in with her later, before another movement at the doorway caught his attention.
Another guest had arrived but seemed to bypass him entirely.
Reruk stood just beyond the threshold, his posture stiffly erect as he surveyed the room with cold, systematic disapproval.
Mandatory leave seventy-two hours prior to launch was a severe lapse in operational discipline. Secondary sensor diagnostics remained uncalibrated, yet the senior staff was dispersed across a sunlit veranda in various states of undress. Even Captain Steyn was clad in a violently patterned shirt—a bewildering display of command laxity.
Reruk had compromised on his attire, wearing a dark grey, short-sleeved tunic that still made him look more like a structural auditor than a party guest. He bypassed the gift-giving entirely, his hands clasped behind his back as he maneuvered past the kitchen island.
Fermented beverages and loud music, he thought bitterly, while the ship's primary arrays run on factory defaults.
He caught Vireya’s eye, offering a single, razor-thin nod in the bare minimum required by courtesy. Steyn had ordered his attendance, so Reruk would execute it: standing silently, enduring the noise until he could retreat to Spacedock for actual work.
Vireya caught Reruk’s narrow nod and returned it.
The feeling around him reached her more clearly than the gesture did. Irritation sat close to the surface, tightly held but persistent, every swell of laughter and music seeming to press against it. He had come because he’d been ordered to, and nothing in his presence suggested he intended to enjoy the experience by accident.
A quiet, wry amusement touched her.
“Reruk,” she greeted, lifting her glass slightly. “I’m glad you made it.”
She left the rest unsaid. He already looked as though attending the party had required enough sacrifice.
...To Be Continued...
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