“Please, please, please tell me the Breen have launched a full-scale invasion of the Thomar Expanse and the Cardassians are calling for aid,” Tikva Theodoras bemoaned as her XO stepped through the door from the bridge and into her Ready Lounge.

Ready Room just wasn’t the right set of words for the space. Ready Lounge was getting there, but still seemed to be missing something. The vaulted ceiling, perhaps? The ballroom floor? The orchestra stands over by the replicator? None of which was actually present, but Tikva was certain she could make such things fit, having spent most of her life on starships after all and learning how to live in small confines.

She was grateful for the extra volume, but also overwhelmed by it all the same.

Seriously, we could hold a live fire exercise in here and not hit anyone.

That’s because we’re a passable shot at best.

Knife fight then?

Now there’s a thought…

“Sorry, ma’am,” Regem said with a chuckle as he crossed to her desk, taking a seat without asking. She’d extended the privilege to him on the first day, and the man took full advantage of it on every visit. “Engineering wants to do a full warp drive shutdown once we get into orbit of Bajor. No faults, just want to go through the motions, what with all the fresh blood we have down in the boiler room.”

Tikva’s left eyebrow rose, studying Regem for a moment. “Boiler room? What, you time travel to a steam era on some planet at one point?”

“I blame a haggardly old chief engineer when I got my commission.” Regem shook his head, fond memories evoking the scent of lilac for Tikva. “One of those types who seems scary at first, but then went on to teach every officer that went near him a hell of a lot about being a good leader than any command courses did.”

“And also insisted on reminding every command track officer that Engineer really ran the ship?” Tikva asked, smiling as Regem nodded in agreement. “I think that’s the vast majority of engineers in Starfleet. Always make friends with the engineers. After all, when things get bad, you’ll need them to get out and push.”

“Let’s hope we don’t get that far. Canopus is a big girl, after all.” Regem took in the blank shelves behind Tikva, save for a single piece of ornamentation now. A small suspensor plate sat smack in the middle of the three shelves, holding up and gently spinning a single key and keychain. “Good spot for that.”

“Thanks,” Tikva said, turning to look at the key herself briefly. Then she turned back to Regem. “Maybe the Tzenkethi are playing up along the border?”

“It sounds like you’re hoping I would have information that our Strategic Operations officer somehow doesn’t already have,” Regem countered.

“I’d just prefer to be doing something. Anything really. But I guess when the orders come down and they say ‘mandatory fun’, then fun it is.” Tikva reached for one of the padds on her desk, verified it was the right one, then slid it over so Regem could easily take it. “I made two modifications to the rotation plan from Ops. I saw that a Commander Karas had been excluded, so I used my supreme power as mistress of this ship to put him back on it.”

“I don’t need-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” Tikva cut him off with a raising of a hand in accompaniment. “If I have to take some leave, if the whole crew is taking some leave, then so are you.” Then she pointed at the padd in Regem’s hands. “And the benefit of being the ship’s XO is you have authorisation to take any small craft you want when it’s your turn to have a break.”

“Thank you,” he said, holding up the padd briefly, conceding the point that yes, he would be taking some leave.

“The New Maquis?” Tikva suddenly asked, reaching again for any reason to avoid her own holiday, to avoid the meeting of captains she’d agreed to already.

“Send their best wishes and hope you have a relaxing break,” Regem countered.

“Damn their vile well-wishes,” Tikva muttered, defeated once more. “Well, if no one is going to be obliging enough to cause trouble, I guess I have to go this thing, don’t I?”

“Looks like it.”

“Should probably take something for the table.” She looked around the ready room, the boxes still to unpack. Mostly trinkets and ornaments, the real trouble waiting in her expansive mansion that someone dared to call quarters a few decks below. But a single sealed container drew her attention. “Oh, that’s perfect.”

“Hmm?” Regem asked, watching as Tikva stood and went for the container. “Something special?”

“Something special alright,” she answered as she pulled out a tall, thin bottle, cradling it with both hands and smiling like she’d just unearthed treasure. “Ouzo, straight from home.” The bottle had no label to proclaim its origin, or even its contents, for that matter. It was a product of her uncle’s distillery, gifted to her by her father years ago now upon the launching of another ship.

And it rightly needed to come with a warning for the amount of trouble it could cause.

“Ouzo, direct from Greece?” Regem challenged. “Well, I’m just going to say now, I’m not letting Canopus repeat the legend of Admiral Slattery.”

“One, I never get that drunk. Two, Canopus isn’t some light cruiser. Three, the Barzan Wormhole is way, way closer. We could be in the Delta Quadrant in a week, wormhole schedule permitting.”

Regem shook his head, smiling the whole time. “I’m going to give Engineering the go-ahead to shut down once we’re in orbit, unless there is any objection?” When none came, he stood, padd with the updated leave roster in hand. “Should be in orbit in seven hours.”

“Plenty of time for a disaster to strike,” Tikva grumbled one last time as Regem left.

Ah, come on, it won’t be that bad.

It’s just a social gathering.

With your peers.