Introductions all round

Posted on Monday 23 February 2026 @ 23:14 by Captain Melody Jones & Civilian Sansa Draxx-Jones & Lieutenant John Mitchum & Ensign Tridi

Mission: Intermission
Location: The Round Table
Timeline: MD 1 2030
2360 words - 4.7 OF Standard Post Measure

ON:

Armed with her PADD and Belle, Sansa entered the Round Table and paused to look around. It was fairly busy for an evening. The Starbase could be seen out of the forward windows.

A waiter approached them. "Good evening Sansa and..." He paused.

"This is Belle," Sansa replied. The small pup let out a tiny woof of greeting.

"Good evening to you too. Can I get you anything this evening?"


"A BLT on brown please, with a bowl of French fries and a cup of tea." She replied as she made her way to a stool at the bar.

"Excellent choice." He replied, "And will you be singing for us this evening?" He motioned over to where the piano was being played by one of the entertainment staff. She and her mother sometimes entertained the crew with Melody playing the piano while Sansa sang. The staff always enjoyed this.

"Not sure about tonight but...." She added when she could see the disappointment in his face, "We'll see what happened. You never know, I might be persuaded to sing one or two numbers.

His smile returned as she sat at the bar. "I'll go and get your order." He said and headed off.

Sansa placed Belle at the foot of the stool, giving her a toy. She curled up at her feet and started chewing on it happily while Sansa turned her attention back to the PADD she had brought with her.

Tridi sat in the corner booth of the Round Table, his green-furred hands moving with rhythmic, practised precision as he aligned his PADD, his napkin, and his glass of water into a perfectly symmetrical grid. To anyone else, the lounge was a place for social spontaneity; to Tridi, it was a chaotic environment that required a strict personal process to navigate. He smoothed the darker green fur on his forearm, ensuring every strand laid flat against his skin, before checking his chronometer. He was exactly four minutes and twelve seconds into his scheduled thirty-minute meal break.

He caught sight of Sansa entering with her canine companion. Tridi’s snub nose twitched. He liked Sansa well enough and she was efficient in her duties, but the presence of the animal in a dining area struck him as a blatant violation of sanitary logic. He adjusted his posture, his pot-belly pressing against the edge of the table, and forced his attention back to the flight telemetry data on his screen. The Merlin’s docking maneuvers earlier that morning had been point-zero-three degrees off the optimal glide path. It rankled him. He had already drafted a three-page memo on thruster synchronization to ensure the next arrival was flawless.

The waiter’s conversation with Sansa drifted over to his booth. Tridi frowned when the man suggested she sing. Music was acceptable, but it was unpredictable. It lacked the structured reliability of a warp manifold. When the waiter finally passed by Tridi's table, the Ensign looked up, his cat-like face set in a stern expression.

"You are late with the water refresh for sector four," Tridi said flatly. He didn't mean to be rude, but facts were facts, and the waiter's deviation from the service rotation was an affront to the order Tridi craved. "The condensation on this glass is exceeding standard tolerances because it has sat for six minutes. Please rectify this."

The waiter blinked, stammered an apology, and hurried away. Tridi didn't feel bad; he felt successful. Success, in his mind, was the byproduct of enforced standards. He thought of his mother, Bipi. She had died so he could fly a ship that actually worked, and he would be damned if he let her sacrifice result in a mediocre flight controller or a messy workstation.

He glanced back at Sansa at the bar. She looked relaxed. Tridi found relaxation suspicious as it usually led to a lapse in protocol. He opened a new file on his PADD and began re-calibrating the Merlin's impulse deck response times for the fifth time that day. He had a process. The process worked. And as long as the process worked, he was safe, even if he was the last of his kind in a galaxy that felt far too large and far too disorganized.

Without looking up from her PADD Sansa remarked, "Something bothering you Ensign? You really gave that waiter a roasting over a glass of water..."

Tridi’s gaze remained fixed on his PADD, though his ears—pointed and tufted with green fur—swiveled toward the bar as Sansa addressed him. He did not care for the term "roasting." It implied an emotional heat that had no place in a professional observation of service deficiencies.

"The water was at an suboptimal temperature, Sansa," Tridi replied, his voice a flat, nasal drone. "Observation of error is the first step toward correction. If I ignored the waiter's timing, I would be complicit in his eventual total failure."

A different waiter came over and delivered Sansa's sandwich and, fries and cup of tea. "Come now, it's a beautiful evening...." A stray piece of bacon fell from her sandwich which was gobbeled up by a tiny mouth before it had a chance to hit the floor.

He watched with a twitch of his snub nose as a piece of bacon fell from her sandwich. When the canine consumed it before it even registered a gravitational impact with the floor, Tridi’s eyes narrowed. He made a mental note: Canine reflex speed: 0.4 seconds. Sanitation risk: High. He adjusted his posture, his pot-belly pressing against the table edge as he forced himself to return to his thruster synchronization data.

John entered the lounge and looked around. He still hasn't interacted with any of the civilians on the ship yet, he thought this might be a chance to do so. He moved to the bar and sat in an empty stool. He looked around and saw a young, attractive woman sitting with a dog staying near her feet. She was with one of the alien crewmembers from the ship. The bartender came. "What can I get you, sir?" John thought about what he might want. "How's the chili here?" he asked. "Some say it's the best in the quadrant." John nodded, "A bowl of chili, shredded cheese on the side, and crackers. And an ale." The waiter nodded. "Be right back." While he waited, he looked the place over, and that attractive woman.

The small dog at Sansa's feet stirred. It got up and approached John. After sniffing his boot a moment, she rolled onto her back, presenting her belly for rubs as she had done for Sansa back in her quarters.

Sansa looked at her puppy, slightly embarrassed, "Belle, I thought I was the only one who got to rub that belly." She looked at John, "I'm sorry, she normally is very well behaved when I bring her here. She's just saying hello. She won't bite." She paused and frowned slightly. "I don't believe I've seen you here before. Are you new?"

John reached down and scratched the puppy's belly. It seemed to enjoy it. "No need to apologize. It's not like she attacked me or something." He grinned at Sansa. "I'm John, been on the ship for a couple of weeks. You?"

"I'm Sansa." She replied, extending her hand. "Nice to meet you John. And I've been here..... a bit longer. I moved here when my Mom transferd back from the USS Sarek. The little fluff ball down there is Belle."

At the sound of her name this time, the pup decided to return to her original position at Sansa's feet.

Sansa studied his gold uniform for a moment. "Tell me, are you an engineer or a security officer? I'm a marine specialist."

One of the waiters who was passing chipped in, "She can also carry a tune."

Sansa blushed slightly. "They let me sing here sometimes. My Mom can play the piano too. So, was it engineering or security?"

"Security. Actually, I'm the security chief." He nodded. "Your mom plays the piano?"

Sansa smiled. "She does. She's pretty good too. You'll have to come and listen sometime." She reached down and gave Belle a quick pat on the head. As Sansa finished off her sandwich, she turned to John "So, Mr. Security Chief, what brings you to the Round Table this evening? Just looking for a bite to eat, or are you working? Investigating something? Or Someone? Are you a regular Sherlock Holmes?"

John smiled. "One of my informers told me that a beautiful woman was here. So, I came to investigate and found you." He smiled and retrieved his meal. "Actually, I came here to eat. But I did find a beautiful woman here."

Sansa raised an eyebrow at that and then laughed, a light, tinkling sound as she took a sip of her tea. "I'd be careful with the line, it's an antique."

Just then, the doors opened and Melody walked in, off duty and wearing a casual dress. She came over to the bar. "Good evening gentlemen. Good evening Sweetie." placing a paternal kiss on Sansa's forehead.

"Hi Mom." Sansa replied as she waved over the waiter. " I was just chatting with our new chief of security."

The waiter who had served Sansa previously came over "Ah, good evening, Captain. Aldeberan whiskey?"

Melody nodded, "And Melody will be fine, I'm off duty. Who's on the piano this evening?"

The waiter replied, "I believe it's Benjamin this evening, but I'm sure he'll be willing to share."

Melody smiled, "We'll see. So she turned her attention back to John as the waiter placed a glass of green liquid in front of her. "Getting to know my daughter, are we?"

John hesitated, afraid to say anything that may get him into trouble; after all, one never dates the daughter of the captain. "We were chatting before you came in, captain. And trying to get to know her puppy, ma'am."

Melody chuckled, taking a sip of her drink. "Well, John, I appreciate you keeping my daughter company. She spends far too much time working." She glanced at Sansa. "Speaking of which, have you finished going over those notes Doctor Blessed sent you?"

Sansa nodded. "I have indeed. Looks like phase 2 is a go, and we're just waiting on some suitable candidates to be selected. It's not easy you know, picking 100 seals to form their first off-world colony. It's a strict selection process."

Melod smiled. "I'm sure it is. Will Fay be accompanying them?"

Sansa nodded, "Yes, and there even might be time to fit in that fishing trip you promised Dad."

Melody's lips thinned slightly, and she drained her drink. "Another Aldeberan whiskey here, please." She called to the waiter, holding her glass up and then back to Sansa "We'll see Sweetie."

The tiny pup at Sansa's feet let out a cute woof, apparently under the impression it was being ignored. Melody bent down and picked her up. "Is that you wanting attention?"

She petted the small dog, then noticed the pianist had finished for the evening. Looking to Sansa "One song?"

Sansa smiled. "Go on then. How about Shenandoah?"

Melody paced the pup next to her as she sat at the piano and smiled, "Nice choice," as she started the opening bars of the simple yet haunting tune.

Then, Sansa started to sing.


Oh Shenandoah, I long to hear you
Far away, you rolling river
Oh Shenandoah, I long to hear you
Away, I'm bound to go
Across the wide Missouri

Oh Shenandoah, I love your daughter
Far away, you rolling river
Oh Shenandoah, I'll come to claim her
Away, I'm bound to go
Across the wide Missouri

'Tis seven years since last I saw her
Far away, you rolling river
Oh, 'Tis seven years since last I saw her
Away, I'm bound to go
Across the wide Missouri

Oh Shenandoah, she's bound to leave you
Far away, you rolling river
Oh Shenandoah, I'll not deceive you
Away, I'm bound to go
Across the wide Missouri

Across the wide Missouri

The noise in the lounge had dropped when Sansa started, and now most people applauded.

Melody held up her hands "Thank you, just the one this evening."

John looked at Sansa. "That was very beautiful, you seem to have a natural talent." He smiled at her.

As Melody struck the keys, Tridi’s fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping on his PADD. He found himself dissecting the acoustics. The Round Table was not designed for optimal resonance, yet Sansa’s voice possessed a structural integrity that surprised him. It was a haunting, disciplined melody. For a moment, the chaos of the room seemed to align into a single, coherent frequency.

When the song ended and the applause broke the spell, Tridi felt the need to re-establish the perimeter of his reality. He stood up, smoothing his uniform over his belly, and gathered his perfectly aligned belongings. He walked toward the bar, stopping at a distance that satisfied Starfleet’s personal space protocols to the millimetre.

"Captain," he said, nodding to Melody with stiff formality. "The vocal performance was within acceptable parameters of pitch and tempo. It was... orderly."

He turned his cat-like gaze toward the new Security Chief. "And you. Chief of Security. I am Ensign Tridi, Chief Flight Control Officer. I suggest you update your 'investigation' to include the fact that the canine has ingested 4.2 grams of salt-cured pork. If it suffers a gastrointestinal malfunction on the Bridge, I will expect your department to provide the primary sanitation detail, as you have encouraged its presence in a food-service zone."

He checked his chronometer. He was now thirty-two seconds behind his scheduled departure for the Bridge. "I have a pre-watch calibration to perform," he announced to no one in particular. "Good evening."



OFF:

●●●● Captain Melody Jones
Commanding Officer
USS Merlin


●● Lieutenant John Mitchum
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Merlin


● Ensign Tridi
Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Merlin