Dinner for Two
Posted on Wed Mar 11th, 2026 @ 6:34am by Captain Zedd Sykes & Science Officer Lindsy
1,586 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
Acquisitions & Contracts
Location: Officers Mess, Deck 2
Timeline: Date 2380-01-05 at 1900
Lindsy found Zedd in the ready room late that afternoon, the orbital light from New Ferenginar casting long shadows across the desk. He was leaning back in the captain’s chair, reviewing a message on the console, but he looked up when she paused in the doorway.
“Got a minute?” she asked, voice soft but steady.
Zedd gestured to the chair across from him. “Always. What’s on your mind?”
She stepped in, letting the door slide shut behind her. For a moment she hesitated, then offered a small smile—warmer than usual, less guarded. “We’ve been running hard since I came aboard. Routes, diagnostics, parts hunting. I was thinking… maybe we could take a break. Dinner tonight? Nothing fancy—just the officers’ mess on Deck 2. I make a decent Rigellian stew if the replicator cooperates.”
Zedd’s eyebrows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it settled into an easy grin. “You’re asking me to dinner?”
Lindsy laughed quietly, cheeks warming just a touch. “I suppose I am. Unless you’d rather eat alone with your console.”
He chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “No chance. Deck 2, officers’ mess. What time?”
“1900? Gives us both a chance to clean up.”
“1900 it is.” He stood, jacket already half-on. “I’ll bring the appetite. You bring the stew recipe.”
She smiled again, brighter this time. “Deal.”
The officers’ mess on Deck 2 was tucked away near the forward section, small and understated but surprisingly comfortable for a light cruiser. Four low tables sat in a loose square, each with four chairs that had seen better days but still offered decent padding. Overhead panels cast a warm, amber light—not the harsh white of most Starfleet spaces, but something softer, almost inviting. A single viewport stretched along one bulkhead, framing New Ferenginar’s slow, swirling turn below, the marsh clouds catching the orbital lights in faint streaks of green and gold. The replicator alcove glowed quietly in the corner, its soft chime the only sound when no one was speaking.
Lindsy arrived first, having changed into a simple civilian tunic and pants—still practical, but looser and more relaxed than her usual coveralls. She’d programmed the replicator for Rigellian vegetable stew with extra herbs and a side of warm flatbread, and two mugs of spiced herbal tea already steamed on the table nearest the viewport. The scent of cumin and roasted root vegetables filled the small room, mixing with the faint metallic tang of the ship itself.
Zedd stepped in a minute later, leather jacket swapped for a dark long-sleeve shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, beard neatly trimmed. He looked more at ease than she’d seen him—shoulders loose, that usual roguish edge softened by the quiet lighting and the simple promise of a meal without alarms or diagnostics.
He paused just inside the door, taking in the setup. “Smells better than anything the replicator’s made since I bought this ship.”
Lindsy smiled, gesturing to the chair across from her. “It’s the spices. Rigellian blend—helps with the flavor profile.
Hope it’s not too strong.”
Zedd slid into the seat, pulling the mug closer. “If it’s too strong, I’ll blame the captain for not warning me.” He took a sip, eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “It’s perfect. You weren’t kidding about making a decent stew.”
She laughed quietly, the sound easy and light. “Years of practice. Living on freighters teaches you to make the most of what’s available.”
They ate in comfortable quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds the soft clink of utensils and the distant hum of the ship. The viewport framed the planet’s clouds, giving the small room a sense of gentle motion, like they were drifting together instead of orbiting.
Zedd broke the silence first, leaning back with his tea. “You know, I wasn’t sure what to expect when you came aboard. Charts and contingencies are one thing. But you’ve got a way of making the ship feel… steadier. Less like a collection of parts.”
Lindsy met his gaze, smile lingering. “That’s the goal. A ship’s only as good as the people who trust it. And the people who trust each other.”
He raised his mug in a small toast. “To trust, then. And to whoever’s crazy enough to fly with us.”
She clinked her mug against his, eyes sparkling. “To trust. And maybe to a few less crazy adventures along the way.”
Zedd chuckled. “Don’t count on that. Trouble tends to find us.”
“True,” she said, voice warm. “But at least now we’ve got someone plotting the smart way out.”
He studied her for a moment, the usual glint in his blue eyes softening. “You’re good at this, Lindsy. Not just the charts.
The way you listen, the way you make people feel like they’re part of something. I’ve seen a lot of crews. This one’s starting to feel different.”
Lindsy’s cheeks warmed faintly, but she didn’t look away. “I’ve been on enough transient ships to know what makes one stick. Loyalty. Competence. A little laughter when things get tense. We’re getting there.”
Zedd leaned forward slightly, voice lower. “Yeah. We are.”
A comfortable pause settled between them, the kind that didn’t need filling.
Outside the viewport, New Ferenginar continued its slow turn.
Inside the officers’ mess, two people who’d spent years guarding their own currents were starting to let them flow a little closer.
The stew was finished, the tea was cooling, and neither of them seemed in a hurry to leave.
Lindsy spoke first, soft and teasing. “You know, for a pirate captain, you clean up nice.”
Zedd laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “And for a navigator who can plot through a nebula blindfolded, you make one hell of a stew.”
She smiled, eyes bright. “Flattery will get you seconds. If there are any left.”
He held up his empty bowl. “I’m not above begging.”
They both laughed then—quiet, easy, the sound filling the small room like it belonged there.
Lindsy shook her head, still smiling as she reached for the replicator controls. “Fine. One more serving. But only because the captain looks pitiful.”
Zedd leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “Pitiful is my best look. Works every time.”
She rolled her eyes but there was no heat in it, just amusement. The replicator chimed softly and another bowl of stew materialized. She slid it across the table to him, then settled back with her tea, cradling the mug in both hands.
“You know,” she said after a moment, “I wasn’t sure what this would be like. Coming aboard. I’ve done short contracts, quick runs, always moving on. Never stayed long enough for… this.”
Zedd took a spoonful of stew, chewing slowly before answering. “Dinner in the officers’ mess with the captain?”
She laughed again, softer this time. “Dinner. Conversation. The feeling like I’m not just passing through.”
He set the spoon down, expression turning thoughtful. “I get it. I’ve spent years bouncing between crews, factions, jobs. Always one eye on the exit. This ship… it’s different. I own it outright. No debts, no orders from above. First time in a long time I’m not running from something.”
Lindsy studied him over the rim of her mug. “You’re not running anymore?”
“Not from the past,” he said quietly. “Not from the people who think they still own a piece of me. But the future? That’s wide open. And I’m starting to like the view.”
She lowered her mug, eyes warm. “Good. Because I’m tired of running too. Tired of contracts that end the second the cargo’s delivered. I want something that lasts. A crew. A ship. A place where people remember your name.”
Zedd met her gaze, the usual roguish glint softened by something steadier. “Then stay. Help me make it last.”
Lindsy’s smile was slow and sure. “I already said yes to the job, Zedd. But tonight… tonight I’m saying yes to more than that.”
He raised his mug in a small toast. “To more than jobs.”
She clinked hers against it. “To more than jobs.”
They drank, the tea warm and spiced between them.
The viewport showed New Ferenginar turning beneath them, lights glittering across the marshy surface like scattered latinum. The officers’ mess felt smaller now, more intimate, the amber lighting wrapping around them like a shared secret.
Zedd broke the quiet again, voice lighter. “You know, for someone who spends her days staring at star charts, you’re pretty good company on solid ground.”
Lindsy tilted her head, teasing. “And for someone who spends his days dodging bounty hunters, you’re surprisingly good at sitting still for dinner.”
He laughed. “Give me time. I’ll ruin it.”
“Don’t you dare,” she said, eyes sparkling. “I’m enjoying the view.”
Zedd’s grin turned softer. “Same.”
They let the moment stretch, no hurry to fill it. The stew was gone, the tea was cooling, but neither moved to leave.
Outside, the planet kept turning. Inside, something quiet and real was starting to take root.
The Dutchman orbited on, patient and steady.
And for the first time in years, two people who’d always kept one eye on the exit were starting to look forward instead.
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