Pancakes and Other Intelligence
Posted on Fri Oct 16th, 2026 @ 1:13am by Lieutenant Junior Grade Stefan Zamfir & Maren Malbrooke
Edited on on Fri Oct 16th, 2026 @ 9:02am
3,194 words; about a 16 minute read
Mission:
Episode 18 - The Edge of Darkness
Location: After 11 - Deck 11 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD003 0800 hrs
By the time Maren left Engineering, she had acquired two things she had not possessed when she woke up: the satisfaction of returning the regulator in considerably better condition than she had received it, and an appetite large enough to make breakfast the next immediate problem.
After 11 seemed the obvious solution.
She had eaten pancakes aboard the Herodotus, but a timeship had never struck Maren as a reliable benchmark for anything resembling normal life. If she was going to judge the Pioneer properly, its breakfast deserved independent testing.
The lounge was beginning to fill with the loose mixture of early-shift personnel and people escaping the end of the night watch. Maren collected a plate of pancakes, added more syrup than was probably necessary, then turned towards the seating area while taking an experimental first bite.
Better.
That was encouraging.
Her attention moved across the room almost automatically, taking stock of faces, uniforms and available tables, until it settled on one officer in particular.
Lieutenant Stefan Zamfir.
She knew the name before she had ever heard anyone say it aloud.
Six feet, athletic, black hair swept back from his forehead, green eyes and the sort of square jaw that made Maren briefly reconsider whether breakfast really required quite so much concentration. Intelligence grey marked his uniform, though she already knew the department, the posting and rather more besides.
His personnel file had been interesting.
Not officially interesting, obviously.
Maren took another bite of pancake while considering him.
At seventeen she was perfectly capable of noticing that an older man was attractive. More importantly, she had learned a long time ago that people frequently underestimated how useful charm could be when applied at the right moment. A smile here, a little harmless flirtation there, and adults sometimes volunteered things they would never surrender to a direct question.
Zamfir was Intelligence.
Intelligence knew things.
And Maren wanted to know things.
She carried her plate across the lounge and stopped beside his table, expression open and pleasantly casual, as though she had selected the seat entirely by chance.
“Morning.” Her smile warmed just enough to be deliberate. “Mind if I sit?”
He had tracked her progress towards his table, Stefan having chosen a table to where he could watch what was happening in After 11.
He had his usual seat, to where no one could approach him from behind. Stefan took a bite of the sausage patty he had just finished cutting before he gave a nod.
"Hello, Maren, Please have a seat." he stated after chewing the morsel of pork and washing it down with some orange juice.
Stefan wasn't certain as to why she decided to come sit at his table. Then again, there was the possibility of a desire of meeting those on the ship.
He knew her last name was Malbrooke, now whether that meant she was related to the Commodore, was adopted he didn't know.
Maren paused with one hand on the back of the chair, eyebrows lifting when he used her name before she had offered it.
“Oooh, spooky.”
The words came with a grin rather than any genuine concern, and she slid into the seat opposite him, setting her plate down before arranging her cutlery with considerably more care than she had shown most things that morning. “Although, honestly, I’d have been a little disappointed if Intelligence didn’t know who I was. That would’ve been embarrassing for both of us.”
She cut into the pancakes and took another bite, watching him across the table with open curiosity that was only partly an act. Knowing he had already identified her made things easier. It saved the tedious part where people tried to decide whether to ask about the surname, and Stefan did not seem inclined to make a spectacle of it.
Her gaze dropped to his plate instead.
Sausage patty. Orange juice.
Maren stared for a second, then looked back up at him with faint disbelief. “That’s your breakfast?”
She gestured towards it with her fork before indicating her own considerably more impressive stack. “You live on a starship with replicators that can make practically anything, and you went with sausage and orange juice. That feels like a failure of imagination.”
There was something endearingly judgemental in the way she said it, more teasing than criticism, and she immediately took another forkful of pancake as though providing evidence for the superiority of her argument.
“These are actually decent, by the way. I had pancakes on the Herodotus, but that ship is a terrible benchmark for anything remotely normal.” Maren gave the stack in front of her another considering look before cutting into it. “Half the time I wasn’t sure whether Captain Thorrin had somehow arranged for the replicator to show off just because he could.”
She tasted the next bite and nodded once, apparently satisfied with her continuing investigation. “So far, Pioneer wins.”
Maren let the conversation settle there rather than rushing towards what she actually wanted. Stefan Zamfir was Intelligence, which meant walking up and immediately asking interesting questions would probably be the quickest way to make him stop answering them.
Besides, Maren could be patient when she had a reason.
Sometimes.
Captain Thorrin and the Herodotus, sparked some interest in Stefan's eyes, the look then fading away.
"No, the sausage patty and orange juice isn't the only thing that I will be eating." An easy smile formed, as a plate with fresh waffles arrived, with blueberry topping and a small pot of lemon tea.
"This is my breakfast." Stefan having a twinkle in his eyes.
"Now as for the science ship, the USS Herodotus. They may have had some issues with their pancake replicator." Stefan added, picking up his fork to cut into his three stack of waffles.
Taking a bite he gave a closed mouth smile, while he chewed, enjoying the warm berry goodness.
Maren watched the waffles arrive and gave Stefan a long, thoughtful look.
“Okay, that makes more sense.” She pointed her fork at the remains of the sausage patty before indicating the much more respectable breakfast now in front of him. “Still weird that you started with a little meat pre-game, but I’ll allow it.”
Her smile lingered as she went back to her pancakes, a little brighter now that the conversation had settled into something easy. Stefan was attractive up close too, which was useful in ways Maren had learned not to overthink. People liked being noticed. They liked feeling interesting, liked being smiled at, liked having somebody lean into the conversation as though whatever they were saying mattered more than the rest of the room.
Maren knew she was pretty.
She also knew exactly how often that made people underestimate what she was doing.
So she let her attention stay on him a little longer than necessary, chin resting briefly against one hand while she took another bite. “You know, Intelligence is kind of disappointing so far.”
The comment came lightly, almost teasing, and she waited just long enough for it to sound like a joke before continuing. “I always figured there’d be more mysterious staring into the middle distance. Maybe somebody whispering about state secrets over coffee. Instead you’ve got waffles.”
Her mouth curved again as she cut another piece from the stack in front of her. “Although I suppose that’s probably the point. Nobody suspects the man with blueberries.”
The humour gave her somewhere comfortable to hide while she edged the conversation closer to what she actually wanted. She had no reason to throw the real question at him yet. Better to find out what sort of person he was first, whether he liked talking, whether he guarded every answer automatically or only the ones that mattered.
Maren tilted her head slightly, watching him with open curiosity.
“So how annoying are you lot about classified records?”
There was something deliberately innocent in the way she asked it, softened further by the small smile that followed.
“Like, if somebody wanted to know whether Starfleet had ever buried something interesting because it was too sensitive for the normal database... how much trouble would that somebody be in for asking?”
Stefan took another beat to take another bite of his waffle, before answering. His green eyes sharp as he regarded Maren.
An eyebrow raised, his thoughts concentrating on the flavor of those waffles, and the perfect combination of the tea as well.
Lowering his fork and dabbing his lips Stefan spoke quietly.
“A person could be in a lot of trouble. Of course, that could present an interesting difficulty if someone had already demonstrated a talent for getting into files they weren't supposed to.”
He took a sip of his tea.
Maren watched him for a moment, then gave a small, crooked smile as she cut into another piece of pancake. “You know you didn’t actually answer me, right?” There was no accusation in it, just the bright little edge she got when she thought she had found something interesting. “You basically said people get in trouble for poking around, which kind of sounds like there’s something worth poking around in.”
She let that sit while she took a bite, then shrugged one shoulder. “I’ve heard bits about this Maleficus thing. Not loads. Just enough to know something really weird happened and everyone gets all vague when it comes up.” Her nose wrinkled slightly. “Which is usually a massive clue that somebody, somewhere, has a much less vague version locked behind six passwords.”
Maren leaned forward a little, lowering her voice without making a performance of it. “So I started wondering what else Starfleet keeps tucked away. Stuff that’s too weird, or dangerous, or embarrassing to leave where everyone can read it.” She glanced at him over the edge of her plate, expression innocent in a way that was probably a little too deliberate. “Like people turning up in the wrong universe, maybe.”
"Only six? Someone must be slipping." Stefan remarked blandly as he picked up a spoon to retrieve some of the blueberry topping.
“You are a very curious individual,” Stefan added, before he decided to eat the spoonful of blueberry topping instead of adding it to the waffle itself.
One thing Stefan noted to himself, the girl had talent. She was rather good in bringing up casual tidbits in order to draw information out of someone. Someone might have trained her. Which made him all the more cautious.
Maren caught the shift in him more through feeling than expression. Something had tightened beneath the easy conversation, a little more caution where there had been curiosity before, and she instinctively eased off rather than pressing harder.
She looked down at her pancakes for a moment, nudging a piece through the syrup. “I mean, I don’t actually know what Starfleet keeps hidden,” she admitted, her tone losing some of the playful edge. “I’ve been here, what, five minutes? Half the stuff people talk about like it’s completely normal still sounds insane to me.”
Her gaze lifted back to Stefan, curiosity still there but no longer dressed up as certainty. “I just know the public stuff doesn’t tell me much about how I ended up here, and I’m guessing there’s probably more somewhere. Maybe Intelligence, maybe Science, maybe buried in some database nobody remembers exists.” She gave a small shrug and picked up her fork again. “I figured asking someone who actually knows how this universe works was probably smarter than me guessing.”
“Have you spoken to the Commodore about your questions?” Stefan asked, cutting into his waffle once more with the edge of his fork.
“I don't know the circumstances of your arrival here, except for your comment about being brought here by Captain Thorrin.”
Stefan chewed on his waffle before continuing.
“From what you are saying, you are from another universe? Your arrival via the Herodotus, a science vessel, makes sense. That tracks.”
Maren’s expression shifted slightly at the mention of the Commodore, not quite a frown but enough to show the suggestion had landed somewhere awkward.
“No. Not really.” She looked down at her plate for a moment, moving her fork through what remained of the pancakes. “We’ve talked. I’m living on his ship, so that was kind of unavoidable. But...” She gave a small shrug. “I’m fine with some distance.”
She left it there. Stefan had already worked out the important part for himself, and Maren found herself watching him with a little more interest because of it. “But yeah. Different universe.” Her voice lowered slightly, more out of habit than secrecy. “And honestly, how I got here isn’t really the bit I need Intelligence for. There are people who know way more about temporal physics than I do. They can pull apart the shuttle data and argue about that.”
Her fork settled against the plate as she leaned in a little. “What I want to know is whether it’s happened before. Properly happened. Not whatever Starfleet decided was safe enough to leave sitting in the normal database.”
There was no accusation in the words, but there was very little innocence either. Maren had spent too much of her life around governments, soldiers and people who decided what everyone else was allowed to know to believe that a uniform automatically made secrecy noble.
She gave Stefan a small, knowing look. “Maybe your Starfleet’s different. I’m still figuring that bit out. But I don’t really buy that an organisation this old has been poking around the galaxy for centuries and somehow put every weird thing it’s ever found somewhere anybody can read it.”
Her expression softened slightly after that, the edge giving way to something more personal. “If somebody else got stuck somewhere they weren’t supposed to be and found a way back, I’d like to know how they did it. I’m not really interested in being told there’s nothing there just because somebody decided I don’t need to see it.”
Stefan took another bite of his waffles as he contemplated Maren's question, regarding the young woman seated across from him.
"Have you asked the Commodore this question? Or even spoken to the Chief Scientist about it, Maren?" He paused for a moment. "The questions you're asking aren't necessarily simple ones. What answers can be given depends upon what information is available, and what information can be shared."
He regarded her thoughtfully.
"As for whether there is a precedent for someone finding themselves in the wrong universe and managing to get back..." Stefan shook his head slightly. "That I can't answer."
His eyes softened ever so slightly.
"I am deeply sorry that I've not been able to give you the answers you're looking for."
Maren watched him for a second, the apology doing very little to distract her from the part that had come immediately before it.
“Okay, but... can’t answer because you don’t know, or can’t answer because you’re not allowed to tell me?” There wasn’t much playfulness left in the question now. She sat back slightly, one hand settling beside her plate as she studied him. “Because those are kinda different answers.”
The mention of the Commodore earned another small pull at her expression. “And no, I haven’t asked him. He’ll tell me I should give this place a chance, try to settle in, maybe throw in something that sounds really wise because apparently being old enough to be somebody’s dad makes you a philosopher.” Maren’s nose wrinkled. “I’m good.” There was more bite to that than humour, though she let it go rather than explain it. “I was going to talk to your Science Chief. I still am. But I’m not asking you to explain the physics. I’m asking Intelligence whether Starfleet knows about other people this happened to. Stuff that maybe never made it into the normal records.”
She glanced down at her pancakes, then back to Stefan. “So if you genuinely don’t know, fine. Could you look?” The question came more quietly, without the earlier games around it. “And if you do know something but you can’t tell me...” Her mouth tightened a fraction. “Then just say that. I’d rather know where I actually stand than keep guessing.”
His interest in his waffles, which were almost gone, faded away. Stefan lowered his fork to his plate. Drawing in a deep breath, he released it slowly.
He heard the bitter bite behind her attempt to cover things with humor.
"I will ask what can be told to you. Honestly, though, what you're asking may have to come from the Commodore himself." His expression softened. "I also understand your desire to get back home."
Maren held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Okay. Ask.” It wasn’t exactly gratitude, but it wasn’t dismissal either. “If there’s something you can tell me, great. If there isn’t...” Her mouth pulled slightly to one side. “I’ll probably keep being annoying somewhere else.”
Her attention dropped to his plate and the remains of the waffles, and some of the tension finally loosened out of her shoulders. “You know, for Intelligence, you’re really bad at making breakfast last.” She glanced at her own mostly cleared plate and immediately ruined the point by noticing she wasn’t doing much better. “Actually, never mind. Apparently I’ve got no moral authority here.”
Maren took the last bite of pancake, set her fork down and leaned back slightly in the chair. “Thanks, though. For asking.” That came a little more plainly than most of what she’d said to him that morning. She didn’t dress it up afterwards.
A moment later she pushed her plate away and got to her feet, collecting the PADD she’d brought with her. “I should probably go bother Science before somebody decides I’ve spent the whole morning eating pancakes and interrogating people.”
The crooked smile returned as she looked down at Stefan. “Which, to be fair, would be a pretty good morning.”
With that, Maren slipped the PADD beneath one arm and headed off towards the exit, already mentally rearranging the next part of her day around a visit she hadn’t technically scheduled yet.
Stefan watched as Maren left After 11, then looked down at his plate of waffles which were now rather cooled down. He didn't care. He wasn't going to let the rest of it go to waste as he began finishing off the breakfast. Wiping his mouth Stefan rose from the table. He had something he needed to do. He left After 11, a destination, a meeting that needed to be had.
A Joint Post By
Maren Malbrooke
Civilian, USS Pioneer
Lieutenant Stefan Zamfir
Assistant Chief Intelligence Officer, USS Pioneer
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