“Ultimately, at the end of the day, it all comes down to choosing the right eggs.”

Samantha Hyland frowned at this, her nose crinkling prettily across its bridge as she sipped the (admittedly rather excellent) St Emillion from her wine – glass, savoring the sensation as her taste buds responded to the enticing aromas that were beginning to pervade the room. She swallowed and set the tall – fluted glass on the occasional table in front of her – a wry smile suggesting itself across her smooth features and she nodded.

“Okay, I’ll bite…” Sam settled back into the comfortable cushions and absently adjusted the hem of her skirt as she drew her long legs and bare feet up beneath her and she tilted her head quizzically.

Robert Carrington grinned as he took the perfect, speckled – brown ovoid in one hand and deftly cracked the egg on the rim of the bowl, his smile was generous and the silver – haired Captain of the USS Albion began to whisk vigorously with his other hand, as he discarded the shell and performed that magical trick again – another deep yellow yolk disappearing into the whirlpool being agitated – as he combined a handful of chives into the bowl and nodded sagely.

The CO of the USS Albion was dressed casually in a cream cashmere sweater & slacks and looked just as confident standing astride the small kitchen in his quarters, as he did in uniform sat in the Captain’s – chair, steering the fate of all aboard the Inquiry – class Exploratory Cruiser as it transcribed its passage through Federation Space.

Robert smiled and replied.

“Well, I certainly hope so Sam,” Roberts warm smile complimented his playful grey eyes as he took up a long knife and began to slice first mushrooms and then red – peppers, his hands flowing hypnotically as he neatly sliced one and julienned the other and then deposited these ingredients into a hot pan and cracked black pepper over them as they came alive with a sizzle. “I could just replicate all this of course, but somehow, I feel there is a lack of industry, a lack of …. connection, I suppose?”

Samantha smiled, for the short time that she had been serving under Captain Robert Carrington, she had come to appreciate his collegiate – style of command and had come to realize that, when the “Old – Man” spoke, there was a degree of rhetoric and analogy that inhabited his storytelling and that he was setting a challenge – seeing if his recipient had the wherewithal to glean his duplex meaning. It was one of the things that she was warming to as his new Executive Officer.

She tilted her glass to the Captain, who left his preparations and confidently crossed the floor to the couch and deftly refilled her glass, before she had to ask.

“Consider it my meagre way of apologizing for not hosting you for dinner before now Number One.”

Robert carefully filled her tilted glass, taking time to pour – his hand steady.

“Normally I would have invited you before now – I usually like to enjoy this social ritual with my XO at least once a week.” Carington apologized as he turned back to his preparation in the kitchen, pouring himself a small top – up of the rich straw – yellow vintage before turning to flip the contents of the pan – the sizzling vegetables performing a neat – hoopla and landing back in the pan, before continuing.

“But with one thing or another, especially the delivery of the consignment of Humanitarian – aid to Mestos – #5, well… time just seems to have gotten away from me this time.” Robert took a sip of wine and then smoothed his hands on the apron fastened around his waist. “The inevitable travesty of age I suppose?”

He smiled wryly and then frowned. “What was I talking about again?”

“You were speaking as to the importance of eggs?” Samantha smiled as she took another sip and delighted to the warming sensation of the alcohol, the inviting smells from the kitchen, the diffusion of gentle Jazz – music filling the room and the ever – present thrill of the starfield streaming past the viewport.

“I was?” Robert frowned his snowy brows, his own lined forehead presenting a far more impressive wave of crenelations than that of his more youthful First Officer.

“H’mmm.” Sam smiled and prompted gently, “Eggs?”

This seemed to let Carrington rediscover his stride and he waved a spatula in the air in triumph.

“Oh yes! Eggs! “He grinned wolfishly. Sam did not buy the “Old – Man’s” ‘Old – Man’ schtick – routine for a moment, but the Captain was excellent company and an excellent chef to – boot, so she indulged him, and he continued in a jovial tone.

“You see Sam, a perfect Omelette all depends on the right eggs.” Carrington nodded sagely and deposited a small pinch of Italian – parsley into the bowl with the egg – mixture and added a deft throw of seasoning.

“For example, these are definitely the only New Hampshire Red, pasture – raised Hen’s eggs within subjective light – years of absolutely anywhere.” Robert held up one of the beautiful deep – brown eggs from the carton, turning it this way and that between his fingertips.

“I keep a small supply in Cryo – suspension in sickbay – drives Doctor Albany absolutely nuts; she says she is not running a ‘Bloody – Cludgie” (whatever that is) but being the Captain of a Starship has certain perks and keeping one’s priceless eggs in the basket of one’s choosing is one of them.” He winked as he set the egg carefully back down.

Sam couldn’t help but stifle a small laugh at the Captain’s, quite good, impersonation of the USS Albion’s irascible Scottish Chief Medical Officer.

“Sure – I could just replicate them.” Robert turned down the heat on a smaller pan and slid a knob of butter in – that slowly began to pool in the gentle heat. “But I am a big believer in authenticity and of progeny.” He nodded as he tilted the bowl and gently rolled the pan around as the egg – mixture evenly coated the surface and began to transform.

“And in that way, making an Omelette is quite like running a Starship, Sam.” Robert Carrington’s eyes twinkled knowingly, and Sam saw the implicit lesson starting to form and sat up on the couch – intent now.

“How so?” She smiled.

“Well, take yourself for example?” Robert nodded as he began to tease the edges of the Omelette gently away from the edges of the pan, lest they stuck.

“You’re comparing me to an Omelette?” Sam raised an eyebrow sardonically and put down her glass, folding her arms in mock admonishment.

Robert chuckled as he expertly flipped the Omelette into the air with one deft flick of his wrist, satisfied as it landed squarely back in the pan, and he set it to the heat once more.

“No – I’m likening you to an egg.” Carington smiled.

“I’m not sure if that is, in any way, a more flattering analogy – but pray continue?” The XO nodded.

“A finished Omelette is form made perfect.” Robert Carrington nodded knowingly as he slid the beautifully – browned disc onto a warmed – plate, quickly covered it with a clean – cloth and then began to repeat the ritual again – making a second Omelette.

“It is a finely balanced orchestration of the right ingredients, prepared in – advance with foresight and consideration of their effectiveness and harmony when brought together in combination. Leave one single ingredient out. The Omelette is disharmonious. Neglect to season it properly, the Omelette exists – but it is stridently out of balance. Leave the Omelette to cook, unsupervised, for too long – it is ruined.”

Samantha had to admit, as far as analogies went, this was a good one. Lessons also seldom smelt this enticing or were quite as palatable to digest – the genius in Carrington’s approach was hard to fault.

“I think I’m starting to appreciate your cooking style.” Sam smiled warmly and took another sip of her wine.

Captain Robert Carrington nodded again as he began to tend to the second batch.

“As the Captain of a Starship you have to face the fact that to get the Omelette made, in – doing so, eggs are going to have to get broken at some point or another.” Robert was speaking to the eggs now, his face intent on his task, his tone reflective.

“As both a member of a ship’s company & also the Captain of your own Starship, Sam, you have had to come to terms with the tragic loss of members of your crew. It’s a loss that no Captain takes lightly but it is an important lesson that will season a commander if they have the insight to learn the right lesson from those ‘broken eggs.’”

At this revelation, Sam’s mind instantly went unbidden to her former comrade, Jan De Vries and his selfless sacrifice to save his shipmates aboard the USS Sacramento – all the promise of his young life snuffed out in the brilliant detonation of a torpedo’s wake.

 She saw the face of Aldus Coe, the Special Services Crewman’s grey-blue face in repose as he lay on the Mortuary – slab of the USS Savannah – the unwitting victim, murdered as part of an elaborate ploy by the New Marquis to destroy the New Orleans – class Frigate when the Labyrinth had failed to do their dirty work for them.

She felt the unpleasant pang of sorrow and the leaden burden of responsibility – every time her thoughts drifted towards their deaths.

Her face must have betrayed her inner – conflict, as Captain Carington’s tone steered her away from dwelling on such moribund – reminisce and he began to combine the vegetables along with the freshly – prepared egg – pancakes, quickly enfolding them in the golden parcels and then grating a fine cheese over the finished plates.

“I pride myself in the selection of my eggs, Samantha.” Robert nodded as he took up both plates and nodded for her to join him at the quarter’s small table, which was set for dinner. Sam took up her glass and unfolded her legs, smoothing down her skirt as she rose from the couch.

“Taking your example as case – in – point Sam, my former XO aboard the ‘Ticonderoga’ was Trevenan Williams.” Robert crossed to the table and gently placed each plate down.

“You served with Captain Williams?” Sam asked as she was seated. “I didn’t know that.”

“Trevenan Williams is one of the finest judges of character that I know.” Captain Carrington turned to take the bottle of wine and pour again, but Sam nodded a polite negative and placed her slim hand over the glass to signal that she had an elegant – sufficiency. “I should know – I had a hand in forging that character.”

“When I was shopping around for a new Executive Officer, Trevenan suggested you.” Robert’s grey eyes considered Sam’s own blue – gaze for a moment, then he busied himself with the ritual of unfurling his napkin and settling the cloth in his lap.”

“I’m grateful for his recommendation.” Sam murmured respectfully and did the same with her own napkin.

“As am I.” Carrington nodded.

“You had your own command, Sam; some officers wait a lifetime for that opportunity.”

He took a sip of wine, setting the glass back down before taking up his knife and fork. “But you had the foresight to give that opportunity up and the resolve to sign aboard my command when you made Commander. Instead of captaining a smaller command for the rest of your career, you chose to serve in the capacity of a First Officer of a larger vessel and avail yourself of the opportunity to further develop your skills as a leader. That shows character in my estimation.”

Samantha blushed slightly as that accolade and took up her own knife and fork to cover her discomfort at being lauded so.

“Thank you, Robert.” She nodded as she considered the Omelette, it truly did look and smell absolutely enticing, and Sam found that suddenly she was famished.

“A Red – Squad alumni that has advanced to the rank of Commander in just over 5 years is somewhat remarkable as far as career trajectories go. “Captain Carrington noted poignantly as he began to gently cut into his Omelette. “Like my selection of fresh ingredients, I pride myself on sourcing only the very best officers to crew my Starships, Samantha, and in return I expect the very best from them.”

Sam looked up at Carrington and began to frown, “I wouldn’t exactly class myself as exceptional in any….” she began to explain, but the CO cut her off.

“Your humility does you credit Sam.” He nodded in affirmation as he placed his fork in his mouth. When he had swallowed, he set his cutlery aside his plate and expounded.

“In the last year alone, you have been engaged in a First Contact interaction with a hitherto uncontacted Alien entity and in doing so – put the mission priorities ahead of your own personal interests – even when those interests amounted to the death of your father. That shows not only uncommon valor but also an implicit application of duty and honor Sam.” Captain Carrington’s voice carried a genuine tone of respect.

For her part, Sam shuddered inwardly – unable to banish the almost palpable sensation of terror as she rode into space on the surface of the Crystal Entity, choking out her last – breaths as she nearly froze to death riding the back of a ‘God’ into orbit. Of the strange visitations that proceeded that event, visitations and portents delivered by a phantom shade of the man who had raised her – delivered from behind the cold glowing blue crystal where his warm brown eyes used to be.

But Captain Carrington was not finished with his oratory.

“And more recently, as the Captain of your own command, you went to extraordinary lengths to safeguard the lives of your crew and bring your ship home. Captain Williams tells me that your rebuttal of the Board of Enquiry aboard Terminus Station was a sight to behold?” Robert chuckled, “I’ve known Commodore Jalian for some years now and if you can make a mark on her finely – attenuated sensors – you really are someone with sand.”

Samantha grimaced at that, the memory of her interrogation into the events aboard the USS Savannah during its exodus in Underspace was not as amusing when she recalled the proceeding herself. She took another sip of wine to distract herself from the memory.

“And finally, somehow, you managed to singlehandedly uncover a True Way plot to destabilize the Detapa Council and foil a coup to unbalance the political stability of the Cardassian Union.” Robert nodded in asset. “Not that stable is exactly how I would categorize the current state of affairs along the Former Demilitarized Zone at present, but from what I gather – the Federation has you to thank for that ‘Hail – Mary’ play?”

“The credit really does belong to the entire crew of the ‘Savannah’, Robert, I’m afraid.” Sam shook her head in disagreement, “All I did was try to keep everybody alive long enough to try make head or tail of what was going on from one minute to the next.”

Robert Carrington laughed in agreement at this honest self – assessment by his new XO.

“Spoken like a true Starship Captain Sam – that feeling never goes away – it just becomes easier to predict when the disasters are coming, with time.”

Sam smiled at this wisdom and shrugged.

“But these are the qualities that make for a good commander Samantha. Take it from a man who knows his “eggs”. You have the makings of a fine Starfleet Captain, Commander Hyland. With time and the right direction, I wholeheartedly believe that you have the potential to become one of the finest leaders of this current generation of officers and God-only-knows that we need capable leaders, more than ever, after the damage wrought by the events of Frontier Day.”

Samantha really didn’t know how to respond to this frank and (frankly) overwhelming show of faith and support in her abilities, so she opted to say nothing.

“Now eat your eggs Commander, they have come a long way to be here today, and they are getting cold – which is beyond a crying shame.” Robert nodded down to Sam’s plate, and she blushed again as she realized the Captain was right, she hadn’t touched her food – so enveloped she had been in this dinner – discourse. She took up her knife and fork.

The Omelette, of course, was excellent……