Chapter 1: The Starfleet Gala

By: Cartooooonz

Beckett Mariner never liked fancy events. The stuffy formality, the polished uniforms, the way everyone pretended to be more important than they actually were—it was all so... Starfleet. And while she loved Starfleet, in her own irreverent, chaotic way, it was nights like these that tested her patience. Tonight was one of those nights.

The grand ballroom on Starbase 101 was packed with officers, diplomats, and engineers from across the quadrant, all gathered for the annual Starfleet Gala. The place was dripping with regalia: shimmering chandeliers floated overhead, casting their soft light on a sea of well-tailored uniforms. Starfleet's finest were in attendance, raising glasses of synthehol and toasting to successful missions, new discoveries, and another year of "peace" in a galaxy that rarely stayed peaceful for long.

Mariner leaned against one of the oversized support pillars near the back of the room, arms crossed, already bored out of her mind. She watched the crowd with a casual, amused detachment, occasionally glancing at her glass of whatever-alcohol-they'd-managed-to-sneak-in, swirling it absentmindedly. It wasn't that she couldn't behave at these events—she just didn't see the point. And besides, behaving wasn't her thing.

A few feet away, her eyes caught sight of some stuffy admirals she'd had the displeasure of meeting once or twice. They were deep in conversation, likely congratulating themselves on policies that barely scratched the surface of the real issues. Mariner scoffed. Let them have their moment, she thought. This is their night to pretend they're the heroes of the galaxy.

But then, in the middle of her internal mockery, she saw her.

Amina Ramsey, standing near the center of the room, surrounded by fellow officers, all of them hanging on her every word. Ramsey had become everything Mariner claimed to dislike. Polished. Professional. Kind, but with that unshakable leadership quality that drew people to her like moths to a flame. Yet somehow, against all logic, Mariner was drawn to her.

Ramsey caught her eye for just a second—barely enough time for the spark of recognition to flicker across her features—but it was enough. Mariner felt her heart skip in that familiar way it always did around Amina. It wasn't just attraction, though that was certainly part of it. It was the history. The connection. They'd shared so many moments, so many close calls, back when they'd served together. Back when things were simpler... or at least less complicated.

"Beckett, my girl!" A loud voice cut through Mariner's thoughts. She turned just in time to see Brad Boimler weaving through the crowd toward her, waving with his usual enthusiasm. His uniform was perfectly pressed, his face lit up like a kid who'd been let loose in a candy store.

Mariner raised an eyebrow as he approached. "Boimler, you look like someone who actually wants to be here. What gives?"

He beamed. "Well, I mean, it's a great networking opportunity! Plus, we're at Starbase 101—one of the most historically significant locations in all of Starfleet. Did you know the treaty with the Tzenkethi was negotiated right here?"

"Riveting stuff, Boims," Mariner deadpanned, taking a sip from her glass. "I can see why you're hyped."

Boimler didn't even notice the sarcasm, already babbling on about the various dignitaries he planned to talk to, the missions he was hoping to get assigned to, and how this gala was a career-boosting goldmine. Mariner listened with half an ear, her gaze occasionally drifting back to Ramsey, who was now laughing at something one of her companions had said. The sight of her smile sent a familiar twinge through Mariner's chest.

It had been too long since they'd really talked—since they'd been something. They had both changed since their time serving together. Amina had risen through the ranks, and Mariner... well, she hadn't. Not for lack of ability, but by choice. She didn't want the brass, the accolades, or the responsibilities that came with a command. She was happier in the trenches, getting her hands dirty, protecting the people who needed it most. That's where she belonged. That's where she thrived.

But Amina? She thrived in the spotlight. And that, more than anything, was what had driven them apart.

"So, what's your plan for the night?" Boimler asked, snapping Mariner back to the present. "You're not just going to stand around and complain the whole time, right?"

Mariner smirked, pushing off from the pillar. "Boims, you know me. I live to cause trouble."

Boimler's eyes widened. "No, no, no. Beckett, please. Not here. Not tonight. Captain Freeman is right over there," he whispered, pointing frantically to Mariner's mother, who stood at the other end of the room, deep in conversation with another officer.

Mariner waved him off. "Relax, Boims. I'm not planning to embarrass her... yet."

She gave him a wink before slipping through the crowd, heading straight for the refreshment table. As she moved, she could feel the familiar buzz of excitement building in her chest. These events might be boring, but they were also full of opportunities—opportunities to stir the pot, make things interesting, maybe even have a little fun.

And tonight? Tonight, she had her sights set on something—or rather, someone—very specific.

The second she reached the refreshment table, her fingers brushed against another hand. She looked up, expecting to exchange some sarcastic quip with a random ensign, but instead found herself face to face with Amina Ramsey.

"Beckett," Ramsey said, her voice soft yet commanding, like it always was. "I didn't expect to see you here. You usually skip these kinds of events."

Mariner chuckled, her signature smirk spreading across her lips. "What can I say? I'm full of surprises."

They stood there for a moment, both holding a glass, neither saying much, but the tension between them was palpable. Mariner could feel the weight of their shared past hanging in the air—missions that had nearly killed them, nights spent talking in the quiet of a Starfleet vessel, the closeness that had once felt inevitable but never quite solidified.

"I see you're still finding ways to stay out of trouble," Amina said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Mariner shrugged. "Well, I try. But trouble usually finds me."

Amina smiled, and for a second, the years between them seemed to dissolve. It felt like old times, back when everything had been easy. Simple. Before duty and rank had complicated things.

"So, are you going to stand here all night, or are you actually going to talk to me?" Mariner teased, taking a step closer. Her voice was playful, but there was something else behind it—a challenge, maybe. A dare.

Amina tilted her head, her expression unreadable, but Mariner could tell she was thinking. Ramsey always did that—thought things through. She was the opposite of Mariner in that way. Careful, precise. But that didn't mean she couldn't be unpredictable when she wanted to be.

"I could ask you the same thing," Ramsey replied, her voice soft, almost intimate. The space between them was shrinking, the air thickening with the unsaid things that had always lingered between them.

Mariner's heart raced, but she played it cool, leaning in just a little, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of Amina's perfume.

"Maybe I'm waiting for the right moment," Mariner said, her voice dropping slightly, enough to make her intentions clear without saying too much. "What do you think, Captain?"

Amina's eyes flicked to Mariner's lips for just a second—so fast that if Mariner hadn't been looking, she might have missed it. But she did see it. And it made her pulse quicken.

"I think," Amina began, her voice steady but quieter now, "that you always know exactly what you're doing, Beckett."

Mariner grinned, but before she could say anything else, the sound of someone clearing their throat broke the moment. They both turned to see Captain Freeman standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, her expression less than amused.

Captain Freeman stood there, her eyes narrowing as she sized up the scene in front of her. Mariner instinctively straightened up, her playful grin faltering for just a second before she regained her composure. She wasn't about to let her mom ruin the moment.

"Captain Ramsey," Freeman said, her tone clipped but polite. "Beckett."

"Hey, Mom," Mariner said, flashing a lazy salute. "Great party. Really... formal."

Freeman's gaze flickered between Mariner and Ramsey, clearly suspicious of whatever was brewing between the two. "I hope you're both enjoying yourselves," she said, though her voice carried the weight of a warning.

Amina, always the professional, gave a respectful nod. "Yes, Captain. It's a lovely event. Thank you."

Freeman's eyes didn't leave Mariner. "Beckett, I trust you're staying out of trouble tonight?"

Mariner's smirk returned in full force. "Me? Trouble? Come on, I'm a model officer."

Her mother's expression remained skeptical. "We both know that's not true." She looked at Amina with a tight smile. "I'll leave you to it, Captain Ramsey. But do try to keep my daughter in line."

Amina nodded, though Mariner could see the slight tension in her shoulders. "Of course, Captain. Have a good evening."

Freeman turned on her heel and walked away, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. Mariner let out a low whistle once her mom was out of earshot. "Whew. Close one, huh?"

Amina didn't answer right away. Instead, she stared after Freeman, her brow furrowing slightly. "Beckett," she said finally, turning to face her again. "Does your mom... know about us?"

Mariner's grin faded a little, her usual bravado slipping. "I mean, she knows we served together. She probably suspects something happened, but I'm not exactly giving her the full play-by-play of my personal life."

Amina raised an eyebrow, the corner of her lips twitching into a half-smile. "And here I thought you were all about full transparency."

"Please," Mariner scoffed, but there was something softer in her tone now, more genuine. "We had fun back then, Ramsey. You know it, I know it. But we were never, you know... serious."

Amina nodded slowly, her eyes searching Mariner's face for a moment longer than was necessary. "No, we weren't. But that doesn't mean it didn't mean something."

There was a brief silence between them, the weight of the past settling like a fog over the conversation. They'd both changed since those days. Amina had risen through the ranks, all polish and decorum, while Mariner had stayed... Mariner—wild, unpredictable, and always one step away from getting into trouble.

And yet, here they were, standing on the edge of something familiar, something that felt like it had never really gone away.

Mariner shifted her stance, leaning casually against the pillar behind her. Her trademark smirk returned, but this time it was laced with something more daring, more playful. "Well, if my mom's orders were to keep me in line... you think you're up for the challenge, Captain?"

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavier than they seemed. It wasn't just a tease—it was an offer. Amina knew that. Mariner knew that. And the way Amina's eyes darkened, just slightly, told Mariner she hadn't misread the situation.

"Beckett," Amina started, her voice soft but carrying a hint of warning. She took a small step closer, her expression unreadable. "You're always looking for trouble."

Mariner shrugged, that familiar glint of mischief in her eyes. "Trouble's more fun with the right person." She tilted her head, her voice dropping a little. "And you know you liked keeping me in check back in the day."

Amina's lips parted, and for a split second, Mariner could see the tension in her posture, the slight hesitation in her gaze. It was that fine line between duty and temptation, and Mariner could feel the pull of it, too.

They hadn't seen each other in a long time. Time had changed them both, but it hadn't dulled the spark that had always been there. If anything, it had made it burn hotter, more dangerous.

Amina exhaled slowly, her eyes narrowing just a fraction as she studied Mariner. "Is this your idea of a challenge?"

Mariner took a step forward, closing the space between them. Her voice was low now, almost a whisper, but with that unmistakable edge of playfulness. "Only if you're up for it, Ramsey."

There was a long pause, Amina's eyes locked on hers, the unspoken tension between them thickening with every second that passed. Mariner could see the conflict in her—the careful, calculated officer warring with the woman who had once let herself get caught up in Mariner's reckless orbit.

Finally, Amina smiled, but it wasn't the warm, inviting smile from earlier. It was sharp, deliberate, and laced with something darker.

"I've handled worse than you, Mariner," she said, her voice smooth, controlled. "But you're not as easy to handle as you think."

Mariner's pulse quickened, but she kept her cool, her grin widening. "Yeah, well, I'm not looking for easy."

Amina shook her head slightly, but the look in her e yes told Mariner she wasn't brushing her off. Not this time. "You never are."

Without another word, Amina turned on her heel and started walking, leaving Mariner standing there for a moment, watching her. But before Amina could get too far, she paused, glancing over her shoulder.

"Well?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "You coming?"

Mariner's grin returned in full force. "Oh, I'm coming," she muttered under her breath, before falling into step behind Amina.

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