Welcome to the Wolfpack - Part 1/4

Posted on Fri Jul 4th, 2025 @ 1:01am by Civilian Verity Thorne & Commander Cornelius 'Kit' Hanlon & Lieutenant Rosaleen O'Donnell & Lieutenant JG Riaothren (Ren) ch'Shaorhs & Crewman Mateo Gardel & Petty Officer 2nd Class Khlynt Medan & Vice Admiral Hiroshi Takahaya

1,707 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: To Boldly Go
Location: Messhall, Deck 4, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 13 - 2000

ON:

Arranging a launch party had proven to be a bit more interesting than Kit had anticipated. It had been coordination of the station vendors for food and drink, the decoration of the Mess Hall which could house more people than the Valhalla, the ship-wide free invite, the music selection. It had felt like arranging some sort of banquet for feuding Klingon houses, not that Kit had experience with that. No. It had been hard work. But it was worth it. The Mess Hall had some Starfleet banners adding a sense of history to it all. There were cupcakes with the Fenrir on it, because Kit had panicked last minute and thought something sweet would do. There was food being served and drinks, plenty of seating for those who wanted it, yet space enough for people to stand or dance. He had encouraged on the invites to come as you are most comfortable. That could mean your uniform or civilian clothes.

Because the true goal for Kit had been a final ice breaker, a chance for people to see each other as...well, people. Under the same goal, serving on the USS Fenrir. Yes, it was a lot of work, yes it being an open invitation was dangerous...it could mean many wouldn't come. Which would then mean it was all for nothing.

"I am such an idiot," Kit muttered to himself, in his uniform, because truthfully it was what he was most comfortable in. He reached for a glass and downed it, frowning as he heard a chuckle behind him.

"Starting early, are we?" Vice Admiral Hiroshi Takahaya gave the Commander a small smile, watching him. He wore a dark blue yukata and grey, a traditional Japanese outfit, having forsaken his rank for this party. He had been surprised to see the invite come across his desk, but had decided to take them up on it.

"Admiral..." Kit swallowed the drink and looked at the glass. "Just nerves, is all..." he admitted before he smiled. "Thank you for coming."

"Thank you for inviting me," Hiroshi said and gave him a small nod, watching him. "It's good you are a little nervous. It is healthy for a First Officer on the night before the launch." He smiled and moved to his side, holding his eyes. "I'll be at a table by the view...don't want to scare the people away." He chuckled at himself and walked past Kit to take a seat, his back turned to the door.

Kit exhaled and placed the glass down, noticing people venturing in. The music had started too, so something mellow to start, just to get things rolling.

Ren had been in too many similar meetings to be nervous. Nor was he cocky. He was just Ren. He strode into the room with a quiet confidence, his antennae flicking back and forth. His eyes did get a little larger when he saw the admiral, but he did his best not to allow any change to his facial features.

Mateo lingered just outside the threshold of the Mess Hall, back to the corridor bulkhead, breath caught somewhere between inhale and exhale. He could already feel the pressure of the space bleeding into the hallway—light, music, motion, all too fluid and unpredictable. His fingers flexed once before retreating into his pockets, one thumb tracing the inside seam in a loop he wouldn't break until he was sure he could move without flinching. He hated this. The noise. The expectation. The ache behind his left eye where the lights didn’t match color temperature. But Kit had made it clear: show up. So he did.

He stepped into the room like crossing into open terrain. The party was alive in the way unstructured spaces often were—chaotic, loud, pulsing with conversation that blurred together into a din. The lighting was dim but inconsistent, and the music vibrated against his chest in a way that made it hard to filter voices. He clocked escape routes instantly—three, not counting the service corridor. His gaze scanned the space with surgical precision: Admiral Takahaya seated near the viewport, Ren moving easily through a group near the buffet, Aria laughing in a cluster that radiated heat and energy. Mateo kept his distance. If he let any of them catch his eye, they’d do something. Smile, maybe. Call him over. He wasn’t ready for that.

His outfit didn’t help—not that he wanted it to. The high-waisted slate trousers swayed just enough when he walked, soft fabric brushing his skin in a way that grounded him. Above that, a silky black camisole shimmered beneath the sheer plum mesh of his sleeves and chest, subtly revealing ink beneath—glyphs, fragments, the swoop of something that might’ve been wings. Each ring on his fingers sat with careful symmetry, matched in texture and weight. His nails, alternating shades of violet and graphite, reflected low light in smooth arcs. He wore no scent. No cologne. Just the clean trace of soap and metal—familiar anchors. The silver chain around his neck sat perfectly centered, checked three times before he’d left his quarters. Control in the details. It helped.

He drifted to the edge of the room, past tables and laughter and people who didn’t know him well enough to ask questions. He stopped near a support beam and folded his arms, one boot braced behind him, posture casual by design. From here, he could see everything—like a set piece placed deliberately just off-stage. He started cataloguing: plate colors, how many drinks people carried, who was grouping with who, the pacing of the music, whether the food trays were being rotated evenly. It gave his brain something to do. It drowned out the gnawing thought that he didn’t belong here. That he was an interloper in a celebration he wasn’t equipped to enjoy.

Still… he stayed. He didn’t bolt. Didn’t fake a call. Didn’t melt back into the corridor and disappear into the holodeck for a solo guitar session, like every instinct told him to. His eyes snagged on a small moment—someone brushing cupcake frosting off their sleeve and laughing like it didn’t matter. Mateo’s lips parted, a huff of breath escaping as something—not quite a smile, but something close—tugged at the corner of his mouth. Just for a second. Just enough to betray the smallest truth: Maybe this doesn’t have to be hell.


Laughing as he tried to brush the last of the frosting from his sleeve, Verity Thorne took the offered napkin from one of the people he was stood with, thanking them. The Chaplain still hadn't fully recovered from his long illness. While he was now free of the illness itself, he was still weaker and slighter than he had been. But he wouldn't have missed out on the chance to celebrate alongside the crew, not like this. So he was pacing himself...and covering himself in cupcake icing to boot. "No one would have believed I could possibly miss my mouth, not when it's so big.." he teased himself with a shake of his head.

"Maybe you underestimated the amount of icing," Counselor Medan said as he watched Verity with a small smile, holding a spare napkin ready should he need it. "There is a trick to them..." he reached out, taking a cupcake. He broke it apart and turned it so the icing became sandwiched between the sponge before he took a bite. "How to eat a cupcake without getting too messy."

Verity watched on, nodding as if utterly impressed before the motion changed to a firm shake of his head. "No, I'm pretty sure that would also end in disaster for me too," he had to admit, chuckling softly as he finished clearing the worst of it off. Well, nothing like showing himself up in front of a counselling colleague. But what else were work parties for? "Perhaps you just have a natural grace that I can't match..."

"I'm El-Aurian, I have years of cupcake experience behind me," Khlynt said with a small smile, raising an eyebrow. "Although this is the first time I have had the chance to be part of a Starfleet vessel's launch."

"Do you think it's natural to be slightly nervous?" Verity asked with a soft chuckle, his smile honest as he reached for a drink to temper the sweetness of the frosting. "Or is it just me?"

"It's natural," Khlynt said as he met his eyes, giving him a small nod. "Most find social gatherings like this a little...daunting. It's natural to be a bit nervous, especially the day before a launch." He considered it for a moment and reached for a drink, lifting the glass before he drained it. "I'm not immune to it either."

"You will learn to keep your guard up around El Aurians." Rosaleen had approached so silently that they had not even noticed her approach. "Especially if you ever play cards with one." Rosaleen wore a simple deep blue dress that, while form fitting, managed to retain quite a bit of modesty...not something that was even close to normal for her. She procured a glass from the tray of a passing waiter and took a small sip. The air warmed a bit as her smile grew. "Now that's more like it!" She quickly downed the rest of the drink, motioning the waiter to bring her another.

"I'll keep that in mind," Verity smiled warmly at the redheaded woman who joined them, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgement to the advice. "I hope I have nothing too salacious to hide though," he added for good measure, laughing softly.

TBC:


Commander Cornelius 'Kit' Hanlon
First Officer
USS Fenrir

Vice Admiral Hiroshi Takahaya
Sector Commander
Utopia Planitia Fleet Yards
(NPC - Hanlon)

Lieutenant JG Riaothren (Ren) ch'Shaorhs
Assistant Chief Operations Officer
USS Fenrir

Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir

Verity Thorne
Chaplain
USS Fenrir
(PNPC - Blake)

PO2 Khlynt Medan
Counsellor
USS Fenrir
(PNPC - Hanlon)

Lieutenant Rosaleen O'Donnell
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Fenrir

 

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