The USS Sentinel’s mess hall was quieter than usual by the time Lieutenant Selene Kross arrived for dinner. The normal rhythm of the evening meal was still present—conversation drifting between tables, the muted clatter of utensils against plates, and the occasional announcement from the replicator stations—but there was none of the hurried energy that accompanied a shift change. Selene stepped inside wearing her science-blue uniform, her black hair with its distinctive white streaks pulled neatly back, and paused for a moment as she considered her options.

After a brief moment, she approached the replicator.

“One proper steak dinner.”

The replicator acknowledged the request with a soft chime.

Selene continued, apparently unwilling to accept the usual simplified version of a replicated meal.

“Thick-cut ribeye. One and a half inches. Medium-rare. Pan-seared in cast iron with garlic, rosemary, and butter. Mashed russet potatoes. Sautéed mushrooms. Steamed asparagus. Nothing else.”

The machine processed the specifications before producing the meal. A moment later, the plate materialized on the counter.

Selene inspected it with the same attention she might have given a planetary survey.

The steak had a dark, properly developed crust across its surface, the interior a warm pink when she cut into it. Butter and rosemary scented the air around the plate, accompanied by the earthy aroma of mushrooms and garlic. The mashed potatoes were smooth without being excessively whipped, while the asparagus retained enough firmness to avoid becoming limp.

She carried the plate to a table near one of the large observation windows and sat down.

For once, there was no padd in front of her.

No sensor reports.

No atmospheric models.

No geological projections.

No anomalous readings demanding an explanation.

Just dinner.

Selene cut a small piece of steak, paired it with a little mashed potato, and tasted it.

She paused.

A very slight nod followed.

“Acceptable.”

It was, by Selene Kross standards, practically an enthusiastic endorsement.

She settled back in her chair and continued eating, allowing herself the rare luxury of simply being off duty. The Sentinel continued its steady journey through the darkness beyond the windows, stars sliding silently past as the ship carried its crew toward whatever waited next.

For the moment, however, Lieutenant Doctor Selene Kross had no interest in what waited next.

She had steak.

Selene Kross, Ph.D., M.D.
Chief Science Officer
Lieutenant, Sciences Division // USS Sentinel
Advanced Cryogenic & Environmental Systems