One had to stop and adore the rustic charm Bajor had to offer, even if from behind rose-colored glasses. Maze loved the fresh air of the Bajoran countryside that was the Tozhat Province, but did it have to be so bright?! Years of acclamation to internal ship lighting (Or lack thereof) always made away missions a bit uncomfortable for him. Thankfully, he had a pair of smart glasses tucked away in his vest pocket, a godsend if nothing else for their shader option.

After checking in with his commanding officer and delivering his supplies to the farmhouse, Maze had some free time available to ‘enjoy the countryside’. Rather than wander into the abyss of the many fields that surround them, Maze opted to head towards civilization, a small village lay to the west of the farmland, where the local traders gathered. Perhaps there he could find more trinkets for his partner and his family back home.

His tailored three-piece waistcoat made him stand out among the more traditional attire of the locals. To put the passerby’s at ease, he put his commbadge on his vest to signify he was a Federation officer, and not some swanky outsider.  While perusing the stalls of various vendors, he found a braided straw hat that he purchased, not only for the novelty, but as added protection from the sun. The smell of local food vendors was slowly beckoning his attention further into the bazaar.

Charlotte MacColgan was not a people person under any circumstances. At the best of times, business kept her in line- attending to her duties gave her a backbone to stand with. But outside of the workplace? Without that support of being on official Starfleet duties, she crumbled like an old cookie. A childhood spent in isolation on a farm with subpar parents and nobody else to talk to but a bunch of animals did not lend one to social skills.

Especially not with her peers. Especially when she’s just barely made captain. Why did she agree to this again? Oh, right- that duty talking again.

So about as quickly as she’d come, Charlie was gone- one look at all these significantly more experienced and learned, probably better, senior officers and she chickened out like a fox meeting the local livestock guardian. The excuse of going into town to see what she could snag for the party just about worked… except now she had to actually get something.

Charlie grew up isolated on a farm. She didn’t know the first damn thing about parties.

And so, there she was, fingers tapping on the handle of her cane as she stared at the bin of fireworks before her, occasionally answering the gawking excitement of small children recognizing the Nebula-class emblazoned on the front of her baseball cap, and trying very, very hard to figure out- in her head, of course, because damn the world if a Starfleet ship commander asked a local for help with something so basic- if fireworks were, indeed, suitable for such an event.

Maybe she should’ve looked up some sort of Partying For Dummies book before she left.

Maze had been overlooking a textile shop with a very alluring set of black cloth with pink, purple, and blue hues that intertwined almost like a nebula, when he noticed chatter; there was ‘another one’ in the market from the sounds of it. Maze looked up and across the courtyard, spied someone by another set of stalls, dressed in a flannel shirt and blue jeans with a baseball cap on. With the shoe on the other foot, it was pretty obvious to him when an outsider was among the locals. Thanking the clothier for showing their wares, Maze excused himself and crossed over to introduce himself.

As he drew closer, he could see that the stall the other outsider was inspecting was a fireworks stand. ‘Brilliant!’ he thought, ‘That would make an excellent after-dinner entertainment choice.’ Approaching from Charlie’s 5 o’clock, Maze cleared his throat. “Stop me if you have heard this one, but a Butler and a Farmhand Walk into a Bajoran Market…” he began the ‘joke’ though he did not have a closing line for it. He hoped it was enough to elicit a response to properly introduce himself.

Charlie was still very, very deep in thought, came idly tapping on her shoulder as she perused the collection of… explosives. She didn’t understand fireworks- it was just explosives to her. Who blows up little tubes for fun? Then again, this acknowledgement also comes with the caveat that she’d never actually seen fireworks in action before. Animals do not do well with loud explosions and bright flashing lights.

And with all the violence of a firework going off, a voice ripped her from her confused haze. Charlie spun around, almost tripping over her metal feet as they didn’t quite move the way they needed to fast enough, and fixed the man approaching her with a wide-eyed, startled stare. It took her a moment to realize he was missing nasal ridges and dressed, if anything, like he’d just walked out of a Victorian England holoprogram… minus the aviators. A human. Probably a Starfleet officer. Probably another 47 staff member.

Her voice caught in her throat, just for a moment. “… I beg yer pardon?”

Maze withdrew a bit, seeing her startled response. “Oh, so sorry!” he exclaimed apologetically. “Just a bit of introductory banter. I’m Commander Heinz. Maze Heinz, USS Typhon.” He studied her for a moment, holding out his hand. The casual dress threw him off, but there was something about the hair and the logo-hat that was telling, “Captain MacColgan, I presume?” He had studied the dossiers of the Task Force Command Staff before their arrival, but she looked much different in her uniform.

The junior captain simply stared at the man with a still slightly stunned expression. Typhon– that little cardboard box of a small craft carrier? She knew they’d been pulled from storage just before the Vaadwaur crisis, but she never expected to meet someone who actually served on one, much less in the same task force.

Still, she cleared her throat and slowly, hesitantly, took the outstretched hand, her own ice-cold to the touch despite the summer heat. “Aye, that’d be me,” she replied, tone smoothed out and flattened as if with a clothing iron. “Can I help ya, C’mander?”

He shook her hand politely, turning his attention once more to the firework stand. “Wonderful! And no, I just thought I’d introduce myself properly before formal introductions were made. Figured I’d avoid the ‘brass gathering’ at the farmhouse for now, let the captains rub shoulders with one another in the kitchen.” He stated with a hint of uneasiness. “Looking to start a light show this evening?” He questioned, looking to keep the topic away from the looming dinner.

It wasn’t that he was afraid of people; it was just the looming anxiety of making good first impressions…gods only know how many times. Gatherings like this could easily make or break an officer’s career, and despite the pretense of relaxation, one wrong slip could easily disrupt the harmony he had worked so hard to achieve aboard the Typhon.

Socializing. Right. Yes. This is what she was here for. Charlie simply replied with a curt nod, scooting aside to give Maze some room to peek at the fireworks. “I dunno. Ne’er… really been t’ somethin’ like this, but I hear word that sometimes y’ light off these at celebrations ‘n such. Nae bloody clue if this counts, but…”

A shrug. She was hopeless at this. Parties and farm life do not mix.

Maze nodded in agreement. “There are three constants of all life in the universe so far as I have seen in my career. We all feel love, we all feel loss, and we all have the urge to use high-powered explosives for recreational purposes.” He finished with a grin. “I’ll take Half the table! Standard detonation, but add in some Starfleet Deltas in the programming for some!” he asked the attendant, and laid down three strips, and seven slips of Gold-Pressed Latinum as payment.

Turning his attention to the captain, he fully took in the magnificence of her USS Melbourne hat. “I love that! How is the Melbourne doing these days?” he commented, feeling she might be more comfortable with semi-work-related talk.

… she wasn’t expecting Maze to be on board with this, actually. Charlie blinked in surprise, took a step back so he could place his order for… a frankly copious amount of fireworks. If she had this sort of ordnance over Narendra III, maybe Oakland could’ve taken down both the escorts straight up.

And so, despite everything, she found herself laughing. Not much of one- more like a skippy, wheezy little snicker- but it was definitely something.

“Ah… she’s shipshape now,” the new captain replied, taking a bundle of the fireworks in her arms once the order was done. “Few months in dock did wonders for ‘er. Runs smooth, comfy.” A pause, something unreadable crossing her face at the realization of how easily that’d come out. “What’s Typhon like? Ne’er been on a carrier.”

“You know how Pilots tend to be overly boisterous and full of bravado? Yeah, multiply that by an ego factor of 10 when they’re on a ship dedicated to themselves.” Maze joked as he collected the rest of the fireworks. Starting back towards the farmhouse, he thought about the question for a moment. “Being on a Typhon is like, if a Regula-class space station could go to warp, almost.” He extrapolated. “A vast change from my first posting aboard a Wallenberg, that’s for sure. Get your cardio in just by walking to an assignment some days.”

“Sounds noisy, at the least.” Charlie adjusted the fireworks under her arm, cane swinging off her shoulder in the other hand. “Well, if ye e’er need a quiet moment, I’ve found Melbourne has a few li’l nooks ‘n crannies ta stash away in. Quiet ship, fer how big she is.”

“Well, I’ll definitely keep that in mind!” Maze smiled, “But I think the next step for me is to either step up, or step away…” he mused as they walked down the pathway back to the farm. The horizon was truly magnificent, the physical scars of the Dominion War all but gone, even if the emotional and spiritual ones remained. As they reached the gate to the farmhouse, he quickly grabbed the gate for Charlotte, thanking her for helping him carry the load of fireworks back.

“I’m going to head around the back and try to get these set up before many people take notice. It was nice meeting you, Captain! And good luck in there!” he teased. With that, little more remained for the two companion introverts but to head into the thick of it and face the deep abyss, of casual socialization!