The soft chime of the food dispenser sounded as Captain Thaddus Charles Francis O’Neil stepped into his quarters, the door sliding shut behind him. For the first time since coming aboard the Chernov, the ship seemed almost peaceful. There were no tactical reports waiting on the desk, no incoming communiqués demanding his attention, and no senior officers standing by for a decision.

Just the quiet, steady vibration of the Constitution-class vessel moving through the darkness of space.

O’Neil removed his uniform jacket and hung it neatly over the back of a chair before making his way toward the small dining area. He had never been particularly fond of eating while working. A meal, in his opinion, was one of the few remaining opportunities aboard a starship where a person could simply sit down and be a person for a few minutes.

He entered his selection into the dispenser.

“Medium-rare steak. Grilled asparagus, prepared with butter. Roasted golden potatoes. Iced tea.”

The dispenser acknowledged the request with a soft electronic tone.

Moments later, the meal materialized on the serving surface. The steak was thick and properly seared, its exterior carrying the unmistakable aroma of caramelized seasoning while the center remained a rich medium rare. Beside it rested a generous portion of asparagus, lightly charred from the grill and finished with melted butter. Golden potatoes, roasted until their edges were crisp while the centers remained tender, completed the plate.

O’Neil poured himself a glass of iced tea and carried everything to the table.

He lowered himself into the chair and looked over the meal for a moment.

“Not bad,” he muttered.

The first cut into the steak revealed exactly what he had ordered. O’Neil gave a small nod of approval before taking his first bite.

For several minutes, there was nothing else.

No orders.

No reports.

No diplomacy.

No tactical considerations.

Just dinner.

Outside the viewport, the stars stretched endlessly across the blackness of space. The Chernov continued on her course, carrying hundreds of people toward whatever waited beyond the next system.

O’Neil took a sip of iced tea and leaned back slightly in his chair.

Command had a way of making even simple things complicated. Every decision carried consequences. Every conversation could affect morale. Every order could potentially place someone in danger.

But tonight, at least for the duration of dinner, Captain Thaddus O’Neil allowed himself to put all of that aside.

He cut another piece of steak, reached for an asparagus spear, and quietly enjoyed the meal.

Tomorrow could take care of itself.

Tonight, the captain was having dinner.

THADDUS CHARLES FRANCIS O’NEIL
Captain, Starfleet
Commanding Officer, USS Chernov NCC-1790