Oh Look: A Blanket!

Posted on Thu Jul 3rd, 2025 @ 7:07pm by Commander Gil’an Tyris & Commodore Elias McEntyre & Lieutenant JG Elen Rell

2,987 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Commodore's Quarters
Timeline: 2387

Elen Rell walked briskly down the corridor, the bundle in her arms tucked securely against her chest like a tactical offering. The blanket: dark purple and lusciously soft, was frankly, enormous. Somewhere along the way, she’d lost track of how many rows she’d knitted, and now it was large enough to swaddle a grown Caitian. Which, given that the Commodore was a grown Caitian, was either serendipitous or vaguely alarming. Or both, never underestimate the power of both.

The alpaca wool was real, unreplicated, bartered for in exchange for three hours of crawling elbow-deep through an alpaca farmer's power maintenance shafts on Earth during her last shoreleave. Worth it, although she had just put the yarn away for the future...which was now the past, or the present. The material had a warmth, a weight to it that made her fingers ache just remembering how it moved through them, stitch by stitch. She knew the colour would suit him: a deep, regal purple that spoke to authority, yes, but also to trust, depth, and a strange kind of comfort she didn’t have words for. Or, rather, she had too many, and none of them felt right.

She wasn’t even sure why she’d knitted him a blanket. Well, she was, sort of. He’d made her Acting Chief Engineer. Trusted her. Gave her space to grow. And she hadn’t blown up the warp core yet, which felt worth celebrating in her own Elen Rell way. Some people wrote thank-you notes. She… crafted full-scale, luxury-grade textile diplomacy.

And now she was carrying it...this enormous, heartfelt, possibly over-intimate gift. to the Commodore’s quarters like it was perfectly normal to hand-knit a blanket for one’s commanding officer. She tried to suppress the low-grade panic crawling up her spine. Was it too personal? Too much? Caitians did like soft things, didn’t they? That wasn’t stereotyping: she’d read it in The Interstellar Companion to Feline Species, third edition.

No wrapping. She hadn’t wrapped it. Should she have? Maybe the unwrapped look gave it a sort of rustic charm. Like something thoughtful and utilitarian, not... weirdly emotional. She was going to say thank you, hand it over, and make a very calm and efficient exit before she did something ridiculous like start explaining the stitch pattern’s metaphorical symbolism.

She took a steadying breath as she reached the door to his quarters. Her thumb hovered over the chime.

Just a thank-you blanket, she reminded herself. Not a declaration of warp core-based affection. It’s fine. This is fine.

She pressed the chime.

Elias ears perk up, looking over at his husband with a confused look. Emery was sitting between the two off to one side. Elias tilts his head, putting his fork down. A dinner of salmon and various vegetables, very lean, low carb in front of all three of them.

"Were...were we expecting anyone?" Elias asked his husband with a curious tone, looking at the doors to their quarters.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” said Gil, reaching for the garbanzo beans. Unlike Elias and Emery, who were biologically bound to be carnivores, Gil was a vegetarian by choice.

Turning towards the door once more Elias calls out.

“Come in?”

The doors parted and Elen stepped in like she was sneaking onto the bridge during red alert...shoulders back, chin up, but with the wide-eyed expression of someone second-guessing every life choice that led her here. “Oh. Um. Hi.” She blinked once, registering not one, not two, but three people at dinner. Two adults, one adorable child. “Oh dust, you’re eating. Of course you’re eating. Why wouldn’t you be eating at dinnertime, in your quarters, like normal people do.”

She held the blanket bundle just a bit tighter, then added in a breathless rush, “I can come back. This can be a later thing. Or a not-at-all thing. Honestly, it might’ve just been a... hallucination brought on by prolonged exposure to warp core radiation and extremely soft yarn.” But she didn’t leave.

Instead, she stepped forward and carefully placed the blanket...this humongous, regal, ridiculously heartfelt blanket...on the nearest clear surface, smoothing it with one hand like it might fly off if untended. “I...uh... I made this. For you,” she nodded to Elias. “As a thank-you. For the trust. The chance to get a little bit of padding in my record. It’s not official Starfleet protocol, obviously. Unless that changed in an update I missed.”

She hesitated, then added, quieter, “It’s real alpaca. Took three hours and one mild electrocution to get the barter right. Worth it, though.” Then, abruptly self-aware again she continued, “Anyway. Blanket. That’s it. Carry on with your... very balanced, impressively composed dinner. I’ll just... retreat. With dignity. Or something resembling it...bye.”

Elias just stared at this woman, babbling and holding out a massive blanket in her hands, that she had made, for him, from real alpaca apparently.

"Lieutenant? Slow down, you're babbling." Elias finally got his composure back. "Why don't you come sit and then you can calmly explain what compelled you to make this blanket for me." He gestures to the empty chair at the table.

Elen paused, momentarily suspicious, like the chair might vanish if she moved too fast. Then she gave a small, self-deprecating smile. “Right. Sitting. That’s... a sensible thing to do.” She took the blanket back into her arms, holding it tightly.

She lowered herself into the chair, a bit stiff, like she wasn’t sure if this was a meeting or a trap, and her hands stayed gripping the blanket if they might otherwise get up to something unfortunate. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest,” she said, looking briefly at the blanket, then back at Elias, with a glance at the child and Gil. “You didn’t micromanage, Sir. You trusted me to just... get on with it. That sort of thing sticks with you. And I’m not brilliant with thank-yous that sound like proper ones, so sometimes it ends up like this.”

She gestured to the blanket, a sheepish quirk to her mouth. “Hyper-functional woollen gratitude. Apparently that’s where I’ve landed.” Then, after a beat, she added more lightly, “Anyway, figured if you’re going to hold this whole starship together, might as well be warm while you’re at it.”

Elias nods in attention.

“I…I see…” Elias says, noticing the looks she gave to Gil and to Emery. The one she gave to Emery more confusion than anything else.

“It looks like a beautiful blanket.” He says before he speaks again.

“I don’t think you’ve met my son yet. This is Emery. Emery, will you say hello to Ms. Rell?”

The young Caitian beams at the engineer with an innocent smile, and that kitten charm.

“Hi!” He quips excitedly.

Elen’s eyes softened briefly at the sight of Emery, and she gave a small, genuine smile. “Hello, Emery,” she said, her voice lighter now...there was a natural ease there, born from years of wrangling her little sister whenever she was back on Mars. “That’s a very bright hello.”

Her fingers twitched around the edge of the blanket as she shifted it in her arms. She was painfully aware she was still clutching the thing, still interrupting their dinner, and probably making the moment more awkward than it needed to be. Why was she still holding it? She could’ve put it down ages ago. But then her brain sprinted through every possible thing she might say next, and before she knew it, she was still standing there, stuck in that same spot.

Her gaze flicked between Gil and Elias, trying to gauge their patience, and her thoughts raced...Did I come on too strong? Is this a bad time? Should I just leave it and run? No, wait, that’d be rude…

“I’m really sorry to interrupt dinner,” she said quickly, words tumbling out as if they might vanish if she didn’t catch them. “But I wanted to bring this over properly.” She bit her lip, nerves tightening slightly, “Thank you, for the trust, for the chance to prove myself. It means more than I probably make it sound.”

Her fingers twitched again, and finally, with a little exhale, she set the blanket carefully on the table between them, avoiding plates and glasses, smoothing the top as if that would settle the swirling thoughts in her head.

“I hope it’s... useful. Or at least warm.” She hesitated, nearly launching into an explanation of the stitch pattern’s meaning before shaking her head internally. Maybe best to save that for another time.

Elias simply nods and stands from the table walking into the kitchen of their quarters. A real honest to god kitchen, getting another plate and set of utensils before coming back to the table.

“Trade me” Elias said putting the plate down in front of the engineer and then holding out the hand for the blanket.

“I bet you haven’t eaten in hours, so, you’re going to join us for dinner.”

She handed the blanket over, eyes drifting to the food. It smelled wonderful. Her stomach answered with a loud, unmistakable growl...he hadn’t been wrong. She glanced from the plate to the blanket, then up to Elias’ eyes.

“Thank you,” she said - quiet, but genuine. For the dinner, for not making it weird, for just knowing and saying so.

Her gaze returned to the table, then lifted again with a smile. “It looks brilliant. Is that salmon? I’ve been trying to teach myself to cook on the holodeck. Did you know you can actually blow an oven door off if you apply enough heat and bicarbonate of soda?” She paused, then added cheerfully, “Well, not explode explode. More like... the dough sort of expanded with aggressive intent and the door gave up. Everything caught fire. Love holodeck safeties.”

“It’s Salmon with mixed vegetables. Gil, is vegetarian however but I’m trying to get Emery to eat more than chicken nuggets and Macaroni and cheese.” Elias commented looking at his husband and son as he said it before turning back to the Lieutenant.

“Lots of lean protein, very low carbs. Takes a lot with someone my size.” Elias continues as he takes a bite of his food.

Elen let out a quick breath like she was trying to slow down a racing engine and settled back, still clutching the edge of the chair a moment before letting go. “Salmon, huh? Fancy. I mean, I haven’t met a carb I didn’t love yet—so vegetables are probably going to have to work really hard to convince me otherwise.” She grinned, a little too fast, then blinked, forcing herself to slow down.

She glanced quickly at Emery, then back at Elias and Gil, words tumbling out like a stream. “Thanks for, uh, letting me crash your dinner like this. I know I kinda barged in...okay, totally barged in...but it means a lot. Like, trust-wise.” She bit her lip, fiddling with the fork before focusing hard on Elias. “It’s not every day someone just hands you the keys to the warp core and says, ‘Go for it.’ And, well, I didn’t blow it up, so that’s... something.”

She gave a nervous little shrug, cheeks pinking. “I swear I won’t bring any more gifts that involve mild alpaca-related heroics. At least, not for a while.” She reached used the fork to get some salmon on it, trying it.

“It’s a beautiful blanket. I’m sure we’ll find a place for it.” Elias smiles. “But I’m going to sound like a dad and say eat your vegetables” Elias said with a big kitty smile.

Elen looked at him with wide eyes, at the words, before she looked at her plate with a small smile. She dutifully stabbed a vegetable with her fork, brought it to her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. “Mm…” she made the noise on purpose, then smiled over at Emery. “Yummy veggies…”

Gil smiled slightly at the overly-dramatic way that she was consuming the vegetables, putting on a small show for the youngling. In defense of Gil’s cooking though, they were undeniably tasty vegetables. The carrots had been glazed with butter, ginger and brown sugar. The corn had been fire-roasted, salted and sprinkled with lemon juice. And the garbanzo beans, the protein packed little goodies, had been slow cooked in a broth flavored with ginger and garlic. But if it took a little histrionics to get Emery to eat the vegetables, then so be it.

The small Caitian child smiles, eating his own vegetables. Elias was happy he was actually eating something that wasn’t fried or shaped like dinosaurs.

“Elen, I do want to say, you shouldn’t worry. You’ve been doing a fantastic job by all accounts and the ship been running smoothly.” Elias comments as he takes another bite of food.

She blinked at him, visibly startled, the words landing squarely in that soft, uncertain space between pride and self-doubt. Her cheeks flushed with the heat of it: praise always hit a bit sideways, especially when it caught her off-guard.

“Well... the ship makes it easy,” she said after a beat, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Guinevere's good at looking after herself. She lets me know when she’s going to throw a strop and has only singed my eyebrows a few times. Good ship makes my job easy.”

"I remember the Captain of the Helena telling me about their engineer, Arvin Rockney. He had the same attitude towards their ship. He named her Helen, and the Corps of Engineers swear that without him, the ship just wouldn't cooperate with them." Elias smiles as he comments, taking another bite of his food.

“Bonded to the warp core,” Elen said with a knowing nod, fork in hand. She started properly tucking into the food, the earlier awkwardness peeling away like burnt insulation tape. With each bite, the tension loosened...it no longer felt like dinner with the Commodore. It felt like sitting with friends. Or distant family you actually liked.

“Happens sometimes. Not to me yet, no! I love our warp core, but she’s more like a mate than a lover. Bit sparky. Besides, pretty sure the ship’s computer wouldn’t approve. I mean, can you imagine the ethics briefings?” She jabbed her fork gently at the table, grinning between bites (but never talking with her mouth full...she’d been raised better than that, Federation Ground Forces parents and all). Still, one elbow found its way onto the table, old habits.

“Have you ever wondered what would happen if the Guinevere went properly sentient?” she added, eyes gleaming now. “I reckon she’d have real attitude. Not malfunctioning rogue AI type....more like dry sarcasm, emergency sass and a running commentary on everyone’s life choices. But in the best way.”

“As I recall, that was quite the topic of cinematic speculation on Terra in the mid twenty-first century,” quipped Gil. “Except not on starships.”

Elen smiled at that, her eyes warming as she looked at Gil. "See, we’ve got a niche now. Dinner and speculative AI ethics.” She looked over at Emery and winked. “That’s Federation-forward thinking, that is.”

Her fingers curled touched the cutlery again as she glanced around the table...the good food, the quiet comfort, the kind of conversation that didn’t ask anything more than presence. And something in her chest eased, like a circuit settling into place. This reminded her of home. Not just Mars, but real Martian hospitality: space settler-rooted, scrappy, generous. Where you always set an extra cup down, not for company you expected, but for whoever needed it.

She looked back to Elias and Gil. “You’ve got the kind of table that makes space,” she said, soft but certain. “Thanks for letting me sit at it.”

“I think I speak for the three of us,” said Gil as he stabbed the last of the garbanzo beans on his plate. “When I say there will never be a time when you are not welcome at our table. My people are well known as welcoming the fellowship of everyone.”

Elen blinked once. Just once. But something in her expression shifted, a flicker of quiet that wasn’t uncertainty, or nerves, or even surprise. Just...absorption. That feeling when the ambient noise in your head dialled down, and a warm signal came through clear.

She didn’t say anything right away. Just smiled, small and steady, and looked at each of them in turn: Gil with his sharpness and ease, Elias with his weight and warmth, and Emery, bright-eyed and gloriously unfiltered. The kind of dinner you didn’t realise you needed until you were already halfway through your vegetables.

She lifted her fork, poked at a carrot, then looked up again.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “blankets are good. But this-” she gestured gently around the table, “this is the kind of thing that actually keeps people warm.”

And then, without ceremony, she tucked back into the food, tension unwinding from her spine like thread from a skein. For once, Elen Rell didn’t feel like she had to earn her place at the table.

She was already there.

------
Commodore Elias McEntyre
Commanding Officer
U.S.S. Guinevere

Commander Dr. Gil Tyris
Chief Science Officer
U.S.S. Guinevere

Emery Tyris-McEnytre
U.S.S. Guinevere

Lt. JG Elen Rell
Acting Chief Engineer
U.S.S Guinevere

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