Lieutenant Saxon Kreeger stepped out of the security offices and into the corridor of the USS Manhattan.

The duty shift had been uneventful by Starfleet standards.

No security breaches.

No diplomatic incidents.

No holodeck malfunctions involving ancient Klingon warriors.

For once, the day had consisted mostly of reports, personnel evaluations, and routine patrol logs.

Kreeger welcomed the change.

At 6‘4” and 250 pounds, the Chief of Security cut an imposing figure as he made his way through Deck 8. His uniform was immaculate despite the long shift, and his broad shoulders seemed to fill the corridor as crew members stepped respectfully aside.

Several officers nodded as they passed.

“Good evening, Lieutenant.”

“Sir.”

Kreeger returned each greeting with a polite nod.

The aroma of dinner drifted from the nearby mess hall.

His stomach immediately reminded him that he’d skipped lunch while dealing with a mountain of security paperwork.

“About time,” he muttered to himself.

The doors parted with a soft hiss.

Manhattan’s mess hall was alive with conversation.

Engineers occupied one corner discussing warp field diagnostics.

A group of junior officers laughed over a game of cards.

Medical personnel were gathered around a table near the viewport, watching stars streak past at warp.

For a moment Kreeger stood there.

This.

This was what Starfleet was supposed to be.

Not battles.

Not emergencies.

People.

Living their lives among the stars.

He stepped to the food service station.

The Bolian steward behind the counter smiled.

“Evening, Lieutenant. The usual?”

Kreeger considered the options.

“Steak. Medium rare.”

“Excellent choice.”

“Baked potato.”

The steward nodded.

“Asparagus.”

Another nod.

The Bolian grinned knowingly.

“And for dessert?”

Kreeger’s blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“You already know.”

“Apple pie.”

“Apple pie.”

“Whipped cream?”

“A generous amount.”

The steward laughed.

“One security chief special coming right up.”

A few moments later the tray was complete.

A perfectly cooked medium-rare steak occupied the center of the plate.

Beside it sat a steaming baked potato split open and topped with butter.

Fresh asparagus completed the meal.

At the edge of the tray rested a large slice of apple pie crowned with whipped cream.

Kreeger looked down at the meal approvingly.

“Outstanding.”

The steward gave a small bow.

“I aim to please.”

Tray in hand, Kreeger moved toward a table near the viewport.

The stars beyond stretched into brilliant lines of white light as the Manhattan continued her mission.

He settled into his chair and immediately cut into the steak.

Perfect.

Juicy.

Tender.

Exactly medium rare.

A rare smile appeared on the security chief’s face.

For several minutes he simply enjoyed the meal while watching the endless river of stars outside.

No reports.

No alerts.

No duty roster.

Just dinner.

The baked potato was next.

Then the asparagus.

Finally, he turned his attention to the apple pie.

The first bite brought another satisfied nod.

The pie was warm.

The whipped cream cool.

A simple dessert.

A perfect ending to a long day.

As he sat there looking out across the stars, Lieutenant Saxon Kreeger found himself appreciating something often overlooked in Starfleet.

Not the grand adventures.

Not the historic missions.

But the quiet moments in between.

The moments that reminded every officer why they had chosen this life among the stars in the first place.

For now, the USS Manhattan was peaceful.

And Lieutenant Kreeger intended to enjoy every minute of it.

Lt. Saxon Kreeger
Chief of Security
USS MANHATTAN