The Chosen Path

Posted on Thu Aug 13th, 2026 @ 2:36pm by Ensign Ozai Y'zyr & Ensign Emilynn Dove

3,156 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Flashbacks and Side Quests
Location: USS Firebird Mess Hall
Timeline: Interlude 2 - A Quiet Moment Enroute to the Romulans

[ON]

The mess hall was quiet at this hour. Ensign Emilynn Dove sat at a corner table by the viewport. There were only a handful of people in the room. Soft whispers could be heard, though no words could be distinguished.

A half-full cup of tea sat on the table in front of her. Beside it lay her PADD, which she had not touched. She wasn’t sure why she had brought it. Perhaps it was just habit. For once, there were no outstanding reports to write or review. No crisis demanding that she figure out what had gone wrong. She was simply off duty.

Her gaze drifted toward the stars beyond the viewport.

For the first time in a long while, she could look at them without feeling that strange pull she had once been unable to explain. There was an emptiness to her consciousness now, though maybe it existed only in her mind. So many of the choices she had believed were hers—her fascination with the stars, her desire to join Starfleet, the path that had eventually led her here. She couldn’t say for sure how much of it had been influenced by the Dukari, or by her family. Perhaps it was both. There was no way of knowing for sure.

But in this moment, she simply sat in quiet reflection, wondering about her life.

She had decided that she liked being a Starfleet officer. It gave her purpose, and she was proud of it. But what she wasn’t sure about was whether she would have chosen the operations department on her own. Had that choice been made for her?

She knew she was good at her job. But would she have excelled in another position? Would she have found something else that she was just as passionate about?

She let herself daydream as the stars slowly passed by the window.

Meanwhile, Ozai had made a visit to the mess replicator, getting a hearty portion of spiced ghost pepper curry with rice. The bright red color advertised the Scoville scale. Likely more than he needed, but after a long day he was starving, figuratively speaking. He had gotten a bit more casual about the mess hall. Typically, prior to the Firebird, he would eat alone. Masked otherwise.

Certain orders had forced him to confront this more realistically. He *could* have remained masked, but had made the choice to just... try.

So far, it was... okay. He'd gone from short visits and quick meals in a corner out of the way, to... not. The progression had been gradual, but consistent. Each time he made the journey, and each time he was un-accosted by by anyone he'd prefer not to be accosted by, and remained healthy the next morning, he grew a little bolder and nonchalant about the entire process.

Smelling the spice of his curry on the scent as he turned toward the room, he noted it was quiet. That certainly didn't hurt things.

But he noted a certain someone, small in stature, green eyes, Human. Ensign Dove. Without thinking much on it he made his way toward her table. She was staring out at the drifting stars, her tea half full, a data pad near her hand.

"You're lost in thought." The heavily modified Trill gave her a half smile, prepared to be dismissed if she preferred.

Emilynn looked up at the sound of Ozai’s voice. It took her a second to process what he had said.

“Was I?”

She glanced toward the stars again, then back to him and the bowl in his hand.

“I didn’t realize. Would you like to sit?”

Stepping closer and slipping into the seat across from her, Ozai set his tray down and eyed her for a quiet moment without expectation, not wanting to break the ambiance of the peaceful room.

She lifted her tea cup, only to realize it had gone cold. She made a small face and set it back down untouched.
Her eyes drifted toward the contents of the bowl. The spices reached her nose, and almost immediately her eyes began to water.

“I find it fascinating what other people choose to eat.” She blinked a few times, trying to clear her eyes. “I think if I ate whatever that is, I might be making a visit to Dr. Ford before the night was out.”

A faint smile crossed her face.

“You should have seen what Lieutenant Woodhouse ate the first day I met him. What was it…”

She tilted her chin upward, her index finger tapping thoughtfully against her lip as though that might help her remember.

“Um… Tralithian something…”

She thought for another moment.

“Oh, yeah. Tralithian moss stew. That’s what it was called.”

She shook her head at the memory.

“Honestly, I don’t even know how he kept it down. The smell was awful. Much worse than whatever you’ve got there.” She gestured toward his bowl. “I guess I’ve never been very adventurous when it comes to food. Half the time I forget to eat all together.”

She gave him a polite smile, then hesitated.

“I hope I didn't just insult your dinner.”

He only smiled, not yet having taken a bite of his curry. "Not at all. I can be a little adventurous with my food. Every time I order it, I knock it up a skosh. Gotta find my max tolerance. Though, I might have to try that... triathlian moss? Next time."

Quietly he scooped up a medium sized bite, biomechanical fingers steady on the hefty handle of the spoon, the peppers and rice coalescing into one as he guided the bite carefully into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully for a moment, the spice hit his nostrils and instantly cleared them, the heat rushing through him in a painful, sweet, and satisfying way.

"I've read there were some very effective early Human medications made with mold." Finding that mentally similar to moss stew. "You definitely helped take care of that little fiasco on Gamma shift." Stirring the veggies and meat into the rice in the bowl, glancing down at the food with eyes as red as the sauce. "A little too much adventure for Gamma shift. Thankfully no one got axed for it. Daw's program seemed to be the root of it." His second bite of curry sent a flare of heat through his core.

“Hey I think we all did exactly what we were trained to do. And honestly Ozai I think you did a terrific job. I mean you stayed so calm the entire time. I can’t imagine the pressure you must have felt. I hope the senior staff noticed."

There was a flush of heat not related to his extra-spicy curry, but he coughed lightly as if it was to cover for it.

"I'm sure there were some certain upturned eyebrows in my direction. Perhaps not in praise, with my luck. I endeavor to stay out of the... what is the Human phrase? The dog house." There was a pause as he got hold of his internal thoughts bid himself to politely ignore her, in-his-opinion, unearned compliment, and promptly he deflected. "Working on something?"



“What?” She looked down…”Oh. No. I’m not even sure why I brought it.”

She smiled, shifted uncomfortably in her seat before asking a question she wasn’t sure she should.

“Can I ask you something?”

Stuffing another sizeable bite of flaming hot deliciousness into his mouth, he nodded absentmindedly.

“Was tactical always what you wanted to do, or did you find your way into it at the Academy? I guess I’m wondering if you ever thought about something different.”

"Hmm..." He thought on the question as he chewed and swallowed the bite, unhurried. "I started in security. Seemed the place for a rough & tumble like myself. But... an instructor, my first year. She insisted I train for tactical instead. I didn't believe her, but she was absolutely certain it's where I belonged." He grinned softly, as if remembering a long-past conversation. "Guess I'm pretty impressionable. Been in tactical since that very week."

Collecting another spoonful but holding it aloft, he didn't bite it down yet. "I've heard some interesting rumors coming from your way. Imagine most of them were inflated somewhat." Then he stuffed the bite home where he chewed, not really thinking on if he should have said that. Decorum wasn't always his strong suit... but he said it with a hint of respectful curiosity, not digging in any malicious way, giving her another half grin, his red eyes sat unbothered on her green orbs. He only knew a little about the events, and honestly? He wasn't in any position to judge. "If even half of them are true, maybe we're a little alike. We troublemakers should stick together. We can play dabo when we're cell mates."

Or perhaps that would create a nuclear explosion of trouble the Firebird had never seen, nor would see again. But he was just trying to be a little humorous in the moment.

Emilynn felt the blood drain from her face. His comment caught her off guard, and for a moment she simply stared at him, not meanly, just stunned.

So he'd heard.

Of course he had. On a ship this small, there wasn't exactly anywhere for a story like that to disappear. He had just been the first one to bring it up.

She looked down at her tea, thankful that it was still there. If it were possible for her nervous energy to warm the cold liquid, she imagined it would be piping hot by now. She finally spoke.

“I suppose some of the rumors are true,” she finally said.

Her index finger now played inside the tiny loop of the cup.

“I didn't really feel like I had much of a choice in the matter when it was happening,” she added quietly, so quietly that she wondered if he had even heard her.

She didn't repeat herself. Her eyes drifted toward the stars again before finally meeting his.

She tried to look for the positive in the whole thing. There was something oddly reassuring about the fact that he had simply asked her about it. No judgment. No whispered conversation she had to pretend not to notice. He'd heard something, wondered about it, and brought it to her face. She appreciated that more than she expected.

Despite her embarrassment, his comment about cellmates finally registered, and it brought a tiny smile to her face.

“I would have enjoyed having company for those fourteen days I spent in the brig. It was much harder than I expected it would be.”

They were both silent for several moments.

“It did give me a lot of time to think about how I got here.”

Ozai paused for that moment, wondering if he'd said something wrong. If she'd been pensive before, she was more so now. Thankfully she didn't seem angry though, and he glance down into his curry, unsure how to continue at first.

"Seemed like you did what you thought you should. That counts for something. I'd bet the higher-up's have made much bigger mistakes in their time."

He smiled a contained little smile.

"I, uhh... ended up in a cell on Earth, for a few hours, not long ago. Don't know if that hit the rumor mill. Guess Humans take trespassing a little more seriously than Trill."

His black and red eyes flicked up to her, his grin solidly in place. Not that he'd repeat the offense, but maybe it put them on slightly closer levels. Granted, she'd been in for a little more than trespassing. She was still here though, so it couldn't have been that bad. If it was BAD bad, she'd have been shipped back to Earth in shackles.

“Yes, Humans can be a little territorial.” She gave him an amused smirk. “But no, I haven’t heard anything about it.”

"If you wanted to vent about it, I'm game. Or I can finish my curry and leave you be."

Emilynn studied him for a moment, her expression softening.

“I’m not sure venting is something I’m particularly good at,” she admitted. “I tend to overthink things quietly and then convince myself I’ve already dealt with them. I think it’s probably a familly trait that needs professional help to overcome.”

She gave a small, awkward laugh. The comment was true enough, but she had meant it to lighten the mood rather than open the door to everything she had been thinking about.

Her smile faded as she looked at him.

“But you did make me curious about something.”

She paused to consider how to word her question.

“You said an instructor convinced you that tactical was where you belonged. What did she see in you? Did she tell you?”

Her head tilted slightly.

“Because you said you didn’t believe her.”

The Trill looked at her unblinking, his spoonful of curry hovering stable in the air as if he'd forgotten about it. As if she were speaking ancient Trill and he was attempting to decipher the familiar-yet-foreign words. Then, slowly, he lowered the spoon back to the bowl. He hadn't believed his instructor. Had he simply taken on another goal handed to him from someone else? He'd been well programmed at doing that from childhood. Starfleet had been the biggest decision he had ever made without outside influence. Perhaps even a little to buck said outside influence and assert himself as an individual. When his instructor had guided him to tactical, had he simply followed like a duckling? Or had it simply seemed a natural fit? When he thought on it his illusion of independence cracked slightly.

"I... I'm not sure."

Honesty that left an iron taste on the back of his tongue.

There was a pregnant pause before he formulated more words. "I mean, she explained it, sure. Something about combat readiness, or decisiveness. She came from an era where Starfleet looked more like a military, to be fair."

That wasn't really an answer. It was, but it wasn't. For all the things he could do, that he excelled at, at his core there was a profound failure of self-confidence, and for a moment it seemed to leak out. Then he brightened a bit and lifted the curry, though he looked at the food rather than her inquisitive green eyes. "I didn't really think to question it. Guess I'm a proper little automaton."

An ironic choice of words coming from the modified man who hated being compared to a Borg.

Emilynn was quiet for a moment, studying him.

“I don't think you're an automaton.”

She gave him a thoughtful look.

“I think sometimes we get so used to doing what we're supposed to that we forget to ask ourselves what we really want. I've spent most of my life being very good at doing what's expected of me.”

She let her eyes follow the stars outside before continuing.

“So when you say you never thought to question it, I understand. I think for me, it’s just going to take some time to figure everything out.”

Glancing up from his curry, Ozai set eyes on his Human companion. Maybe they were more alike than he thought? Maybe that made him feel a little less alone, in a way. He wasn't the only one questioning himself every step of the way. Everyone always seemed to just know what they were doing, where they were going, what their purpose was. Maybe they all had questions they weren't letting on to.

"Same." Then, in a classic Ozai deflection from the seriousness of the topic, he lifted a spoon with a small amount of curry on it, and gave a humored grin. "You want to try a bite? Clears the sinuses."

Emilynn stared at the hovering spoon.

“Uhh, I think not.” She laughed finally grinning from ear to ear.

He chuckled, not seriously pushing for her to do it, and took the small bite himself instead. Swallowing it, he reoriented, not wanting to depress her any further. "So. When you were a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? I wanted to be a dragon. Maybe if I max out these Scovilles I'll turn into one, eh? Start breathing fire."

“Well, that does explain your food choices.”

Her laughter turned a little quieter as she settled back in her chair.

“When I was little, all I ever wanted was to travel the stars. I don't think I ever really wanted to be anything other than a Starfleet officer.”

She looked at him again, this time with a little more sparkle in her eyes.

“If I had to choose something now…” She pondered the question for a moment. “Maybe a photographer.”

A satisfied smile crossed her face.

“My great-grandfather gave me this old camera when I was little. It was from the twentieth century. I think he said 1940s.”

She glanced toward the stars beyond the viewport.

“The only problem is, it’s broken and I haven’t figured out how to fix it yet. Maybe I should.”

The Trill gave a short laugh, then covered his mouth for a short moment. "I'd recommend Fhiri if you need something fixed, though I'll warn you about her bed side manner." Shoveling the last bite of his flaming hot curry into his mouth and chewing, he let the spoon softly clatter into the mostly empty bowl and took hold of the sides of the tray with both hands. "Just don't tell her I said that. She'll make me suffer for it when I need a repair."

“That’s a great idea. I bet Fhiri could help me with it. I hadn’t thought to ask her. Thank you for the suggestion.”

Pushing up, he stood and gave Dove a friendly glance down his nose. "I'm going to close shop for the night. Gotta get my beauty sleep. Don't stare out the window too long, yeah?"

“I should go too. I have an early shift tomorrow. Goodnight Ozai.”

The Trill pushed casually away from the table and moved to recycle the bowl and tray before lumbering out of the mess hall, considering this a successful social moment, while still hoping he didn't regret it the next day. You never knew what people could be silently carrying.

Emilynn watched Ozai leave, her gaze lingering on him until he disappeared from the mess hall and the door closed behind him. She took one final look at the stars before returning her teacup to the recycler and heading towards her cabin.

[OFF]

Ensign Emilynn Dove
Operations Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298


Ensign Ozai Y'zyr
Tactical Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

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