Morning Tea (Part 3)

Posted on Thu Mar 12th, 2026 @ 6:52pm by Captain Violet Bluegarden & Lieutenant Commander Jo'ohn el'Ataa & Lieutenant Irril Sharvo
Edited on on Thu Mar 12th, 2026 @ 6:53pm

1,123 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: What's Past is Present
Location: Sharvo's Quarters
Timeline: After 'Morning Tea (Part 2)'

Previously, on Star Trek: The Sullivans:

Irril rose and walked toward the display, "Until then what would you like us to do, Captain?" The Bajoran was still a little unnerved about the whole incident, especially since the Deltan seemed rather nonplussed about the whole situation. He could only help but wonder what all had gone on in his quarters when Tugril had them. He was already debating requesting a new cabin assignment.

And now, the continuation:

"For now, I'd suggest giving the poor Deltan some space." Violet suggested. "I'll talk with Great Grand Mamaw, see if there are some quarters that are vacant in both our times if you absolutely need somewhere private, Lieutenant. Otherwise, We got plenty of public spaces. The holodecks... May not be accessible, though."

"I can return to the Bridge," the Bajoran hopefully proposed. "I'm sure that there's something that I can do at Ops, now especially." He looked over at the Deltan who now doing pushups for some odd reason, probably to unnerve him more.

At that moment, the chime to the quarters rang, indicating another visitor. Likely the one for the Deltan.

Both Lieutenants Sharvo and Tugril called out at the same time, "Come in." The only difference was in how they said it. For the Bajoran it was direct, matter of fact. For the Deltan it was somehow sensual and inviting. They couldn't help but look at each other with a critical look.

The door swooshed open, and in stepped Commander Drake, carrying in his hands a fresh towel as well as a neatly folded fresh uniform.

"Towel and a uniform for Lieutenant Tugril?" Drake asked. "Unfortunately, Captain Bluegarden told me this was an urgent matter, and I didn't have time to grab you some spare rank insignia as well."

Tugril stopped mid-pushup, his skin glistening under the cabin lights with a sheen that was, unfortunately for the modest Bajoran in the room, quite healthy. He sprang to his feet with a fluid, athletic grace that suggested he spent a significant amount of time maintaining his "temple." He ignored the towel for a moment, his dark eyes locking onto Commander Drake with a look that was half-amused and entirely appreciative.

"Commander Drake," Tugril purred, his voice dropping into a smooth, melodic register that seemed to vibrate in the air despite his lack of solid mass. "So you're the one everyone's talking about. I can see why. Urgent matters usually involve less clothing in my experience, but I suppose for you, I can make an exception and cover up." He reached out, his fingers brushing against the fabric of the uniform Drake held. This time, instead of shimmering through, his hand met the material with a satisfying tactile resistance. He took the uniform, though he made no immediate move to put it on, draping it over his arm like a fine silk cloak.

"No rank insignia?" Tugril pouted, a playful, exaggerated expression. "And here I thought you wanted me to be properly identified. Though, if I'm being honest, I think the 'Deltan in a towel' look was really starting to grow on the Lieutenant over there. He's been so... attentive," He shot a wink at Sharvo, then turned his gaze back to the screen where the two Captains waited. He stood with one hand on his hip, the towel precariously low, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he was the center of a temporal security crisis.

"Don't worry about the space, Captain Violet," he said, offering a charming tilt of his hairless head. "I’m very good at sharing. But if the Lieutenant is really that desperate to get back to his buttons and lights, I suppose I can manage to keep myself entertained in the meantime. Just don't expect me to stay 'incorporeal' if the food starts looking better than the company."

He turned back to Drake, leaning in just a bit closer than necessary for a man receiving a delivery. "Tell me, Commander... in 2373, is the Chief of Security always this stern, or do I just need to work a little harder on my charms? Because I have a feeling this century is going to be a lot of fun once I'm fully 'solid' again."

He finally took the fresh towel and began to dry off the phantom moisture from his shower, seemingly oblivious to the concept of modesty, "I'll get dressed. Eventually. But truly, Commander—thanks for the threads. They're definitely my color."

"Well, then." Drake folded his arms, not amused by the Deltan's attempts to seduce a married man. "I suppose that settles things for now?"

Sharvo felt his face heating up with a flush of Bajoran indignation that had nothing to do with the "Deltan charms" being liberally applied in his living room. He watched Tugril’s lithe movements with a mixture of clinical fascination and deep, personal exhaustion.

"Attentive isn't the word I’d use," Sharvo interjected, his voice tight as he pointedly looked at the ceiling rather than the glistening Deltan. "The word is 'intruded upon.' And for the record, I wasn't admiring the view; I was wondering if your 23rd Century gym routine included a lesson on personal boundaries."

He looked back at the viewscreen, catching the flicker of amusement on the faces of the two Captains. He straightened his tunic, trying to reclaim some shred of professional dignity in a room that currently smelled like damp towels and temporal displacement. "Captain," Irril said, addressing Violet while pointedly ignoring Tugril's wink. "If Commander Drake has the situation here under control, I’d like to authorize a remote lockout of my bathroom sensors from the Bridge. I think I’ve had quite enough 'fun' for one morning. I’ll be at my station if you need me to cross-reference the sensor ghosts with the historical manifest. Apparently, I have a sudden, vested interest in knowing exactly who else might be planning to materialize in my sonic shower."

He shot one last look at Tugril, who was still draped in the uniform like a runway model. "Enjoy the 'threads,' Lieutenant. Try to keep them on until we find you a room that isn't already occupied by someone trying to eat their breakfast in peace." With a sharp nod to Jo'ohn and Drake, Sharvo grabbed his cold cup of cela tea and made a hasty, dignified retreat toward the corridor.

A Mission Post by

Captain Violet Bluegarden
Commanding Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Captain Rebecca Bluegarden
Commanding Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

Lieutenant Commander Jo'ohn el'Ataa
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Commander Nathan Drake
Chief Security Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

Lieutenant Irril Sharvo
Chief Operations Officer
USS The Sullivans
2373

Lieutenant Tugril
Chief Personnel Officer
USS The Sullivans
2293

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