A Not So Chance Meeting
Posted on Mon Dec 8, 2025 @ 10:23am by Commander Tayanita 'Tay' Lio'ven & Lieutenant Commander Curtis Thibideaux
2,162 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Chicken Run
Location: Near Medical, DS5
Timeline: Days prior to the Marine Ball
Curtis had run the numbers. Debated with himself and finally settled on a course of action. As busy as he was, he knew he couldn’t put something like this off. His feet scuffed on the blood red runner that led him toward medical. His HUD had acquired the doctor and station tracking had her on her way toward medical to begin her shift.
He was aware that he was borderline stalking the doctor, but with a station this big and with that many personnel, sometimes creativity was needed. Curtis double checked his uniform as he walked, his intercept course plotted he could feel the anxiety building in his stomach and he chided himself. He was much to old to be worried about asking a girl on a date.
Weaving through the mass of people, he caught up to the El Aurian paced along side her for a few strides and said, Dr. Lio’ven. We haven’t met, I’m Curtis Thibideaux with Strategic Operations. I hope I’m not inconveniencing you.”
Tayanita slowed at the sound of her name, a soft turn of the head bringing her hazel gaze to the tall human pacing alongside her. Recognition flickered as soon as he introduced himself.
“Lieutenant Commander Thibideaux,” she greeted, her tone carrying a quiet warmth. “Head of Strategic Operations—hard not to know the name when half the command deck swears by your efficiency.” There was a soft, teasing lilt in her voice, but no edge to it.
Shifting the PADD tucked under one arm, she motioned lightly for him to walk with her. “You’re not inconveniencing me. I was only on my way to Sickbay—nothing that can’t wait a few more steps.”
A hint of humour flickered in her eyes as she added, “Strategic Operations sounds like one of those departments that lives somewhere between diplomacy and controlled chaos. Should I be bracing for either… or is this more of a social reconnaissance?”
Her smile deepened a little, warm and knowing. “You don’t strike me as the sort of man who ‘happens’ to fall into step with someone by accident.”
It was said with gentle amusement, not accusation—just an open door, offering him the space to admit that this meeting wasn’t quite as coincidental as it seemed.
Matching strides, then rematching as the doctor slowed her pace Curtis chuckled and said, "I'll work my way backwards. No, this wasn't coincidence. You caught me. It's out of the blue, as they say, but I was wondering if you would like to join me in attending the marine ball that's coming up."
He kept his shoulder close enough to hers to dissuade anyone from attempting to cut between them as they walked. "As to the my posting, it's not nearly as chaotic as it could be. At least on the surface. Strat Ops should be dealing with what's going on beyond the station and what might affect it closer in. It's when the role of Second Officer got snuck onto my plate that things kinda started taking on a balloon shape."
Tayanita’s steps slowed just a fraction—not stopping, just easing—as though she were making space in the moment itself. The soft surprise that touched her face wasn’t sharp or flustered… more like a quiet warmth settling in.
“The Marine Ball,” she repeated, a small, genuine smile curving her lips. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”
There was no mockery in it—only an honest, pleasant note of being caught off guard in the best way.
She tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, thoughtful. “It’s bold to ask someone to a formal before you’ve even made it to their name on a duty roster.” A light tease, soft as a breeze. “But… bold isn’t always bad.”
As he spoke of Strat Ops and the ballooning demands of a Second Officer, she let out a soft huff of sympathetic laughter.
“That explains the tired look I’ve seen on the command deck,” she said. “You’ve been holding up half the ceiling with your shoulders and pretending it’s light as air.”
Her eyes flicked up to him, warm and steady. “And still you found time to chase down a doctor in a corridor.”
She let the moment breathe—not avoiding his question, not rushing toward an answer—simply letting him see that she was taking it seriously.
“I’m flattered you asked,” she said at last, voice quieter, sincere. “And I’d like to know more—about the event… and about the man brave enough to intercept me before my first cup of tea.”
A gentle smile.
“Walk with me a little longer, Curtis. Let’s see where this conversation goes.”
Chuckling, Curtis acquiesced with the nod of his head, fitting his pace to match hers as they slightly wove through and with the crowd. "Very rude of me not knowing or anticipating your tea schedule," Curtis said. "But we likely can fix that, though I won't have a guess as to your preferences there. As far as the ball goes, the FMC celebrates their date of inception and the roots that they trace by hosting a birthday ball each year. It's pretty much like any formal wear affair you've attended, probably on the rowdier side," Curtis informed. "The oldest and the youngest marine present represent. If it's like other's I've attended, there will be a table to lost comrades, usually near the entrance."
"After that, it's what other times would call a rubber chicken dinner with social event and dancing." Curtis kept his pace even, but let her edge slightly ahead. He was on her time right now and the doctor could dictate where they would stop or not. "As to me, I'm not sure why you'd term me brave?" With a grin he said, "The worst you could do was tell me no, then where I should take my invitation and what I likely should do with it when I got there."
Tay let out a soft breath—something between a laugh and a sigh—as she matched his pace again, her expression softening with an easy, amused warmth.
“Tea schedules are sacred, Commander,” she teased gently, “but I suppose I can make an exception for an invitation to a Ball.”
As he described the event, her smile grew, genuine and touched with nostalgia.
“I’ve attended a few Marine Balls over the years,” she admitted. “They’re always a little louder, a little prouder, and a little more heartfelt than most formal affairs. The table for fallen comrades… that part never changes.”
There was a flicker of quiet respect in her eyes before her tone lightened again.
When Curtis questioned her earlier use of the word brave, she shifted her gaze to him, the corners of her mouth lifting.
“Brave,” she repeated softly. “Because you stopped a woman you’d never met, intercepted her mid-stride, and asked her to a formal event without knowing if she was going to smile… or give you a very polite Vulcan eyebrow and keep walking.”
Her eyes brightened with gentle humour. “Most men talk themselves out of trying. You didn’t.”
She let that sit for a heartbeat, her pace slowing just a touch—an unconscious sign that she wasn’t trying to flee this conversation.
“And for the record,” she added, her voice warm, “if I’d said no, I wouldn’t have told you where to take your invitation or what to do with it.”
A softer smile. “Not unless you’d deserved it.”
Then, still walking, she tilted her head slightly toward him.
“You should know…” A small pause, deliberate but not heavy. “…I haven’t said no.”
Her tone carried a subtle invitation, curious and open.
“Tell me—why me?”
Curtis saw her rejoin his pacing and decided he might have the edge over tea. "Having that on the record is good to know," he bantered. "But I had no way of knowing before the asking. Since we don't know one another and I don't know what kind of day, week, month or other extended time period it's been...I've learned to hedge possible disappointments by thinking through scenarios before approaching." A wry smile pulled at his face, "And that helps with the nervousness. When I was learning to helm a freighter, my dad would tell me time spent in planning for when things went pear shaped was better spent than watching trideo programs."
"As to why you," he paused, giving himself a few beats to marshal his thoughts. "Again, possible overthinking on my part but I've seen you around in passing. I'm not so wrapped up in being the new kid that a beautiful woman won't catch my eye and when the ball was scheduled I decided to take the chance you might still be free." They walked a few more steps and he added, "We're roughly of equal rank and position so there isn't the awkwardness, at least on my part, of approaching someone junior and worrying they might feel pressured by the rank while dazzled by my stunning good looks."
His lips quirked into a grin, "When I first checked you out, my HUD updated me on your bio. You're not just beautiful but have the potential to be fascinating to talk to, so that prompted the bravery." He'd tapped his right cheek lightly, indicating the lightly glowing hazel contact he wore.
Tayanita’s laugh came quiet and warm, the kind that lived more in her eyes than her voice.
“Planning for pear-shaped moments…” she said, amused. “Your father sounds like a man who understood the universe well. Most of life is pear-shaped if you look at it from the wrong angle.”
She shifted her PADD under her arm again, glancing at him sidelong with a smile that held a hint of fond teasing.
“And for what it’s worth, you hide your nervousness better than most.”
His explanation—earnest, thoughtful, carefully paced—softened her expression further. When he finished, she slowed just a fraction, giving the moment a little more space to breathe.
“Well,” she said gently, “that was very kind… and refreshingly straightforward.”
Her gaze flicked briefly to the faint glow at his iris where he’d tapped.
“And I’m glad your HUD didn’t tell you anything too outlandish,” she added with a light laugh. “Those things have a mind of their own.”
Then her tone softened into something sincere, warm, and touched by a quiet depth.
“Curtis… in nine and a half centuries, I’ve heard plenty of invitations. Some too grand, some too confident, some weighed down with expectation.” She tilted her head slightly, studying him with thoughtful ease. “Yours was none of those. It was simply honest.”
A beat passed—calm, measured, unhurried.
“And you noticing me in passing… that wasn’t lost on me either.”
She faced forward again as they walked, her voice gentler.
“As for not wanting to pressure someone junior—believe me, that awareness speaks well of you. But rank or no rank…” she gave a small shrug, “…a sincere invitation is still a sincere invitation.”
Another few steps of companionable silence before she added, lightly:
“And your stunning good looks, well—” a playful note warmed her words “—I suppose they don’t hurt.”
Finally, she looked back up at him, smile soft but unmistakably warm.
“So yes, Curtis. I’ll go to the Ball with you.”
A gentle nod sealed it.
“And I think the conversation will indeed be fascinating.”
"Excellent," Curtis beamed. "If it's half as fascinating as you, well it should be a memorable time." A flashing in his HUD reminded him he was near to being late with somebody someplace. "And now, good Doctor, I'll have to leave you. Shall I collect you before the ball or would you rather meet at the venue?"
Tay’s smile deepened—warmer now, touched with something more personal, more present.
“Then come collect me,” she said softly. “If we’re doing this, we’ll arrive together. Properly.”
A beat. “Habitat Ring C, Section Twelve.”
She stepped a little closer—not enough to invade, just enough that it felt intentional—and lifted a hand to his arm. A light touch, brief but certain. As she leaned in, she pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, warm and feather-light.
“For asking the way you did,” she murmured, her voice low enough to belong only to the two of them. “It was… unexpectedly lovely.”
She eased back, her expression soft but sure. “Until then, Curtis.”
With one last small, honest smile, she turned toward Sickbay—her steps unhurried, the moment lingering like a quiet promise in the air.
END
A joint post by:
Lieutenant Commander Curtis Thibideaux
Strategic Operations Officer
DS5
Commander Tayanita Lio'ven
Chief Medical Officer
Deep Space 5
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