One Shot at a Time

Posted on Thu Jan 29th, 2026 @ 9:34am by Lieutenant Evelyn Stewart & Lieutenant Tollan Yara & Char & Lieutenant Commander Keishara Davaris & Lieutenant Dezarac Talvon & Lieutenant Dashku Zhevou & 1st Lieutenant Kes Th’relnal & Lieutenant JG Koaruh Avestro & Ensign Sophie Bishop & Senior Chief Petty Officer Rufio Dulay & Gunnery Sergeant Matewa Natana & Chloe de la Vega
Edited on on Thu Jan 29th, 2026 @ 9:44am

3,587 words; about a 18 minute read

Mission: Year One: The Point of No Return
Location: USS Moore - DMZ
Timeline: MD: 001 - 17:30hrs

Lieutenant Stewart followed the rest of the bridge crew into the DMZ after alpha shift and stopped immediately in her tracks when she saw the open space in the middle of the room. Her brow furrowed she looked towards the bar. "What the hell happened to the foosball table, Char?" She asked the barkeep, perplexed.

Char simply shook his head, his eyes on the drink he was mixing for Ensign Chapman. "Gone. Starfleet Security confiscated it. Something about searching it for listening devices left by the Syndicate." The Bolian explained with a gruff tone. The violation of bar still a fresh wound he wasn't over. He looked up at the pilot, as if to cut off the exasperated response he heard all day. "Don't worry, I already put in a requisition for a replacement."

Stewart breathed out her annoyance and turned her attention to Dashku. "Well Dash, I guess you don't get a chance to be the hot shot tonight. So how about some real ones?" She asked with a shrug and a grin.

"Char," Dash chided him with a hint of playfulness, she gave him a smile and leaned on the bar. "Next time you need something, come to be directly. I will make sure you get what you need far faster."

She turned to Stewart and smirked at her, before shrugging one of her shoulders, "As long as you can keep up with me. You're probably the only one who can."

Stewart just let her grin slowly morph into a laugh and smirk. "That's cute, Dash. Keep talking like that and I might have to keep score again."

Dash just smirked at her and shrugged one of her shoulders, there was no reason for the two of them to fight about it or to get into a drinking contest, other than pride and a way to pass time.

"As long as they don't close the bar." Kes said as he walked up and sat down on a stool. His side was tender, but that was just a sign he was too focused on the wrong things right now. "The usual Char."

The Andorian turned side on to the bar so he could take in the rest of the happenings as well. His antenna slowly oscillated around, taking in the atmosphere. He smirked a little at Stewarts displeasure at the foosball table being gone. "Perhaps you'll have to find a new hobby, one that you're actually good at."

Stewart simply rolled her eyes and shook her head at Kes before she downed her shot. "Lasting an entire bridge shift without throwing Greco out an airlock is my hobby. And judging by the fact he's still here, I'm pretty damn good at it - surprisingly."

Sophie came in beside Sam and slowed, eyes on the empty patch of floor.

“Well, that’s a shame,” she said. “Poor table never hurt nobody.”

She gave Char a small smile. “Hey, Char. Can I get a hot tea? Peppermint, if you’ve got it.”

Stewart’s gripe made her grin; Kes’s jab earned a faint shake of her head.

She leaned a little closer to Sam. “Let’s keep the Anjar talk quiet,” she murmured.

She nodded toward an open booth near the back. “Let’s grab that one.”

She slid into the booth, set her padd aside, and waited for the tea.

Sam slowed with Sophie, eyes doing their habitual sweep of exits before settling on the empty square where the table used to be.

“Moment of silence for the fallen,” he said, deadpan. “May its foosballs roll free.”

He lifted two fingers to Char. “Coffee, please. And—if Chloe’s got any—honey-garlic wings? I’m willing to be consoled.”

Kes’s jab drew a small half-smile. “Dangerous claim from a man whose break shot still hasn’t found the back of the table,” he murmured, tone light.

At Sophie’s whisper he dipped his head. “Yeah. Quiet,” he said, voice low enough to disappear under the room’s chatter.

He led the way to the back, taking the booth she’d picked and sliding in so his back sat to the bulkhead, sightlines clear across the room.

He offered Sophie the faintest, reassuring smile and tipped his head towards the room. “You want quiet for two, or are we inviting trouble to sit?”

Dez entered the room with a less-than-subtle energy, scanning the environment. If there was one place he felt like home, it was a bar. This particular place seemed a little more proper than what he was used. It was bright and colorful, looking clean enough to eat off of any surface. Not his usual haunt, but he'd give it a chance. Moving slowly to the middle of the room, he noticed it was quieter than he would have expected. He eyed the empty space in the middle on his way to the bar.

"Geeze. Who sucked the air outta this place?" he asked rhetorically, approaching the bar. His hands slapped down as he made eye contact with the Bolian. "You the barkeep 'round here?" he asked, a sly grin forming.

Char worked quickly and efficiently getting group their various drinks. Since getting underway there had been an uptick in officers relaxing in his bar and he had to keep sharp to stay ahead.

He gave the newest officer a quick, warm smile - friendly but overwhelmed. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant. The barkeep and proprietor of the DMZ, the name's Char." He offered his hand to the engineer and gestured over his shoulder at Chloe as she worked her grill. "Don't mind the assistant over in the corner. She's quite harmless, even with that prattle she keeps doing in that language of hers. What can I get ya?"

Chloe didn’t look up from the grill.

“Assistant?” A beat, then a small, razor-neat smile. “That’s adorable.”

She slid a plate of honey-garlic wings and dropped a peppermint tea onto a tray that a server would take to Sam and Sophie, and nudged a short glass—the Andorian’s usual—towards Kes without missing a beat.

Only then did she glance Char’s way. “It’s Chloe. Please. And that ‘prattle’ is Spanish. The universal handles it; so can you.”

Back to the newcomer with an easy warmth. “Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. Kitchen corner’s open—bar bites only while Char and I are… improvising the act of sharing a space. If you’re hungry, I’ll sort you. Vale (okay)?”

Dez grinned back at the bartender. Leaning against the bar, he looked at the collection of bottles behind the Bolian, most of which seemed somewhat exotic and unidentifiable.

"Alright, level with me. What ya got that's real—nothing synthesized, meddled with or watered down?" Dez asked, catching the bartender's eyes. He held his gaze, a seriousness about his question that needed no words.

Char simply grinned, a twinkle in his eye as he heard the seriousness in Dez's voice. If nothing else, he was sure he had a new favorite customer. He tapped his fingertips on the bar in excitement before pointing at the man. "I got just the thing, Lieutenant." he said as he rushed to the other side of the bar and reached for the bottom shelf. He pulled out a small glass canter filled with florescent orange liquid. "Risan fire bourbon." Char explained as he reached for a glass tumbler. "Very rare, only one distillery still operation. It's aged in casks of old Romulan ale for twenty years." The Bolian explained as he poured two fingers for the El Aurian with a knowing smirk.

Dez looked down at the freshly poured glass. The fluorescent color of the liquid was unreal, making him question what it was made from. He almost hesitated to palm the glass and bring it to his lips. Almost. Taking a generous amount of the drink into his mouth, he swallowed quickly. There was no doubt about—this was the real thing. He coughed subtly as the burn hit his throat. It was a good burn. Just what he was looking for.

"Yep. That's the stuff right there," he said, setting the glass back down on the bar. "Too bad it's so rare. That mean ya got limited stock onboard?" he asked.

Char simply nodded somberly. “I went to get some more before we left the shipyards. But I got a bit distracted once I landed on Risa.” The Bolian admitted before turning a deeper shade of blue. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep you rolling in the good stuff, Lieutenant. Welcome aboard.”

Yara walked in with Koaruh at his side, still murmuring about how he could have used the Betazoid in helping him land a cute Efrosian at Copernicus last night before they left. "I'm telling you, Koaruh, she was this gorgeous creature with snow white hair that wanted to give me a private tour of the shipyards."

As they approached the bar, he called for their usual. "I would have had the night of my life...if only I had my wingman to keep her friend occupied." He said with a sad, but playfully exaggerated, drop in his tone.

Evelyn took her Traskian ale from the bar and leaned over, giving Koaruh a quick peck in greeting before looking up at Yara. "I know you aren't suggesting doing something stupid like going and picking up women just so you don't have to rely on the holodeck for company." She teased Tollan.

Yara just grinned and shook his head. "I'm a doctor, Stewart. My first duty is to do no harm. That includes keeping poor Koaruh out of your blast radius."

Stewart just gave a dry chuckle and knowing look before moving to join the others in their usual spot.

Koaruh snorted. “I was your wingman—tragically detained in a monogamous relationship with a dabo table named Betsy. She took my dignity and three strips of latinum.”

Evelyn’s quick peck drew a warmer smile; he bumped his shoulder to hers in hello and eyed her ale. “Upgrading the evening, I see.”

He turned back to Yara, deadpan. “Also, I refuse to be complicit in you traumatising an innocent Efrosian woman.”

Only then did he clock the empty square where the foosball table used to live. He winced theatrically and took a beat. “Char, please tell me Security didn’t confiscate your sense of humour with the table.”

He leaned an elbow to the bar, half-facing the room, content in the buzz. “Right—rounds on me if anyone says ‘Syndicate’ more than twice tonight. We are officially off-duty. Yara, if your ethics permit, toast to ‘do no harm’ by not challenging Kes to arm-wrestling. Stewart, save me a seat before your fan club arrives.”

He tipped a finger to Chloe in thanks for whatever “usual” would appear, then snagged his drink and nodded toward their spot. “Come on—before someone decides the empty space needs interpretive dance. I did mine on the holodeck and the ship has suffered enough.”

Stewart looked to make a comment to Koaruh about what exactly they were doing that night, something between a correction and a reprimand before she better of it and simply walked away to join the others.

Tollan lingered back by the bar, noticing the new lieutenant. Picking up his own ale from the bar, he offered the man his hand. “Tollan Yara, acting chief medical officer.” He said with a warm smile. He gestured to the group of senior officers. “Come join us.”

"Dez Talvon, Chief Engineer," he said absently. He looked at the group his new acquaintance was indicating. A wave of reluctance washed over him as he noted the rank pips. So much for a low profile, he thought to himself. "So, just acting?" he asked, keeping the conversation light.

The Trill simply nodded with a shy smile. "We our chief medical officer was just reassigned. Not something I want, too much responsibility." he added with a casual shrug, "I'm just filling in until a new one is assigned." Yara explained , leading Dez towards the group. "

Kes just observed, it seemed that the loss of their table wouldn't be a sticking point for long. His antenna moved around slowly and deliberately as he took another sip of his drink before standing up from the bar and walking over to the couch area nearby. "Maybe we can requisition some fun to replace the foosball table. What about air hockey, or Rej'kursh?"

Stewart pointed at the Andorian with her glass as she sat on the edge of the couch. "Air hockey - that's an idea! They had one of those at the Golden Gater in San Francisco. It was a lot of fun." She commented before reflecting. "I don't exactly remember much from when we'd go there but it was fun." She added about the cadet haunt.

"Would anyone be interested in the Orion murder bug table? I've always found it to be a quite thrilling game," Dash commented.

"I'm up for anything." Kes said as he took a drink. "Except Dom-jot." His antenna seemed to circle around in distain at his own words.

He leaned forward and swirled the drink in his glass. "I'd suggest darts, but I don't think it'd be safe for Greco to come here if we did." Kes paused and his antenna lifted as a half a grin came across his lips. "How about darts?"

Stewart slid into Koaruh’s lap easily once he sat down and made herself comfortable. She laughed as she pointed her ale at the Andorian. “Careful, Kes. Another threat like that and our resident wet blanket will probably go tattle on you.” Her eyes locked with Keishara’s for a half a breath before she sipped her ale before putting it down to fix her hair from her braid to a ponytail, relaxed with a sigh. “I’m just glad to be underway again.”

"Greco isn't so bad, you just have to understand he's a boy scout. Tell him what he wants to hear," Dashku smirked and shrugged one of her shoulders. She noted Stewart and Koaruh, she didn't know Koaruh well, but she'd missed that they were together, however they were defining it. It's was a data point, but she didn't care so much. "I don't know Char, what if I dressed in my Syndicate uniform? I feel like you'd change your mind..."

Keishara stepped into the DMZ just in time to catch Stewart’s jab. She paused long enough to take in the tableau — Evelyn draped over Koaruh like it was the most natural thing in the world, Koaruh trying (and failing) not to look pleased with himself, Kes winding up trouble, Dashku flirting with danger for sport.

Her gaze flicked to Stewart as that pointed “wet blanket” landed.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t stiffen. Just let out a quiet breath through her nose — amusement, not anger.

“Stewart,” she said, tone calm enough to make the words land sharper, “if you think I’d go running to Greco of all people, you’ve been listening to the wrong gossip.”

She picked up the drink Chloe had left waiting for her, rolling the glass lightly between her fingers.

“And for the record,” she added, eyes meeting Evelyn’s for a heartbeat, “if I ever chose someone to run to, it wouldn’t be a rumour. You’d know.”

Not a confession.
Not an admission.
Just the kind of line that closed the door firmly without slamming it.

“As for darts,” Kei continued, turning to Kes, “play whatever you want. I trust grown officers not to put projectiles into each other unless they’re aiming for the board.”

A dry hint of humour touched her mouth.

She claimed the empty chair at the edge of the group — present, but not inserting herself into their tangle of friendships and flirtations.

Kes stiffled a chuckle. "I'm sure they would be aiming for the most stiff and flat thing in the bar at the time." He took another sip of his drink as his antenna undulated with the warmth from the drink.

Stewart caught Kei's eyes for a moment just so the El Aurian knew she was paying attention before turning her attention back to the group before shifting slightly. "It's still not going to be enough of a distraction from what we are being expected to do." She said grimly about their assignment regarding Commodore Anjar. "How can Starfleet expect us to turn on one of our own like this?" She asked rhetorically before shaking her head in disgust and taking a long sip of her ale.

Tollan glanced at the others before giving Stewart his full attention. "We aren't supposed to be talking about it." He simply said, his tone cautious but understanding of her sentiments. "Leave it alone, Stewart." He said as a quiet warning when she turned to him, clearly ready to argue but instead falling silent when she saw the Trill's eyes drift to the junior officers sitting nearby.

Evelyn clenched her jaw in frustration, her lips twitching with the clear desire to speak her mind instead she focused her gaze on the contents of her glass as she reined in her feelings. "Right." she said as acknowledgment before taking another large sip before she could undermine herself.

Easily sensing the tension grow in the room with the last comment, Kes grinned and leaned back. "If not darts... there's always axe throwing." He raised his glass and smiled broadly. "To playing with sharp objects and no losing an antenna!"

"Although I believe you losing an antenna would be comical," Dashku arched one of her brows with a slight smirk. It might have only been funny to her, but she was fine with it. "And just because we're not suppose to talk about something, doesn't mean we won't. Better to get things out on the table than to let it fester."

Yara smirked at the comment about Kes losing an antenna, the thought of having to reattach it being amusing as he glanced at the stoic Andorian before focusing on the rest of what the Orion said. "Orders are orders, Lieutenant. We don't need gossip amongst the junior officers leaking out from the ship." he offered calmly as a defense.

Stewart downed the rest of her ale, flinching at the twinge of pain from forcing it down all at once to be done with it. "And sometimes orders are wrong." She said sharply, her gaze challenging Tollan directly when she realized she wasn't completely misreading the situation. "If Command is so worried about the truth and optics of the situation with Anjar getting out then there is bigger issues than a couple of officers discussing insubordination." she added, disgusted with the politics of it all.

"Right or wrong, if it's a lawful order we don't really have a choice. That's part of joining Starfleet," Dashku looked over at Stewart. "But we can still dislike it. I think the only comfort I take is that she will be represented and will have a trial, we can only hope it's one the seeks justice and not just to punish someone."

Sophie shifted slightly in the booth, fingers tightening around her mug before she spoke. When she did, her voice was soft but certain.

“Starfleet doesn’t get this wrong,” she said. Not heated. Not defensive. Just… stated, like a fact she’d been taught to trust.

“There are safeguards. Reviews. People whose whole job is making sure no one gets railroaded.” She glanced down at her tea, then back up. “If Command’s moving on Anjar, it’s because they have to. They wouldn’t do it otherwise.”

A small shrug, earnest and unguarded. “That’s what we’re trained for, right? To trust the process. To believe the uniform actually means something.”

She took a sip, quieter now. “If we stop believing that, then… I don’t know how any of this works.”

Matewa had been content to listen up to that point, nursing his drink and letting the room find its own balance again. At Sophie’s words, though, he shifted slightly, forearms resting on his knees, posture relaxed but attentive. He didn’t contradict her outright. Didn’t need to.

“That belief’s not wrong,” he said calmly, voice even and unforced. “You need it. Especially early on. Keeps the noise from getting too loud in your head.”

A brief pause, eyes flicking to the table, then back up. Not unkind. Just honest.

“Just know the uniform doesn’t stop people being people. Processes are built by hands. Most of the time they work. Sometimes…” He shrugged, small and contained. “They need watching. That’s why trials exist. Why representation matters.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile.

“Trust the system,” he added gently, “but keep your eyes open. Both things can be true.”

Stewart simply shook her head in agitation at the rhetoric while staring down at the end of her empty glass. Letting out a heavy breath through her nose, she placed the glass on the table. "I need to get out of here," she commented before turning to Koaruh, leaning back into him. "See you tonight? 2000 hours?" she asked without waiting for a reply, simply giving him a small peck before getting up and leaving before she made a scene.

 

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