Paint the Ship Redd

Posted on Monday June 9, 2025 @ 3:54pm by Commander Lucas Redd & Captain Luna Janeway

3,245 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: The first Steps to the Unknown
Location: Various
Timeline: Current

Commander Lucas Redd stepped back onto the USS Intrepid, the familiar hum of the ship wrapping around him like a comforting embrace. The shuttle bay’s sterile air faded, replaced by the Intrepid’s scent—polished metal, recycled oxygen, and the quiet pull of her. Luna. Her name stirred a warmth that cut through months of separation. With a soft tap on his combadge, he called out, =/= “Redd to Janeway.” =/=
A warm smile broke across Lucas’s face as he walked through the ship’s corridors, each step toward the turbolift carrying him closer to their shared quarters. The hum of the Intrepid softened, his thoughts filled with her—her scent of starship steel and Klingon warmth, her strength that grounded him.
In their quarters, Captain Luna Janeway stood ready, the stars beyond the viewport casting a silver glow across her Klingon-human form. Her combadge chimed, and Lucas’s voice—soft, eager—warmed her, her ridges tingling with anticipation. She’d prepared for this a quiet choice to cherish this moment, their future family a dream for another day. She tapped her combadge, her voice steady but laced with a smile Klingon spark. =/= “Janeway to Redd. I’ll be waiting.” =/=
She lit candles, their soft glow transforming the room into a haven, each flame a defiance of Starfleet’s stark order. Slipping out of her uniform, she stood bare, her athletic frame blending Klingon strength and human softness, ready to be just Luna for him.
Within minutes, Lucas reached their quarters, the door hissing open to a world of candlelight. The warm glow spilled across the room, and his breath caught as he sensed her presence. He shed his jacket, his boots, each step toward the bedroom deliberate, a Riker-like care that deepened the moment. At the foot of the bed, he found her—reclining, her skin aglow, her Klingon ridges a subtle contrast to her welcoming smile. Her gaze, bright with Jadzia’s playfulness, invited him closer.

He crawled onto the bed, pausing to meet her eyes, the air alive with quiet connection. “It feels like years since we’ve been together, my love,” he murmured, his voice soft as he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a tender kiss. The touch was a gentle flame, reigniting their bond, a promise of shared dreams.
Luna leaned into him, her hands resting lightly on his chest, her Klingon strength yielding to human tenderness. “I’ve missed you too,” she replied, her voice a warm whisper, her fingers brushing his cheek, lingering on the stubble of his return. Her ridges caught the candlelight, her eyes—dark, unguarded—holding a love brighter than the stars. Her preparation ensured this moment was theirs, a vow of trust and future possibilities, perhaps one day with children.
She eased back slightly, her breath steady, her captain’s duty a quiet undercurrent. “The Intrepid needs me—my crew, my ship,” she said softly, her voice tinged with Worf’s honor, her hand finding his. “But you… you’re my home. Soon, we’ll be one, and maybe more.” Her smile deepened, a rare softness in her Klingon pride, as she squeezed his hand, their wedding day and future family a quiet promise in the candlelight.
“Yes, we will,” Lucas whispered, his voice rich with Troi’s devotion. He kissed her again, his lips brushing her forehead, her cheek, each touch a gentle claim. They drew closer, their hands intertwined, their breaths mingling in a shared rhythm, the world narrowing to their warmth. “Luna Janeway,” he murmured, his voice a tender vow, “I love you.”
Their embrace deepened, each touch a spark, each glance a promise, a Riker-Troi intimacy laced with Paris-Torres warmth. The candlelight flickered, casting soft shadows, the Intrepid’s hum a distant echo against their own. Their closeness was a reclaiming of lost time, their future bright with shared dreams.
But duty intruded, sharp and unyielding. Lucas’s combadge chirped, a jarring note that broke their quiet haven. He paused, his hand still in hers, a wry, Troi-like smile tugging at his lips. “I have to answer that,” he said, his voice low, tinged with regret. He tapped the combadge, his eyes never leaving hers. “Redd here.”
“Commander,” came the voice of Ensign Taryn Wells from the Intel office, urgent but measured. “We have a situation. Are you with the Captain?”

“Yes, I am, Ensign,” Lucas replied, his tone even, his gaze holding Luna’s warmth.
“We need both of you in Intel now,” the ensign said, her voice carrying a hint of apology.

Luna’s eyes flickered, a soft Klingon hum in her throat as she sat up, her skin still warmed by their closeness. “Their timing’s awful,” she murmured, her voice a Jadzia-like blend of wit and spark, her ridges catching the candlelight. She squeezed his hand, her grip steady but gentle, a warrior’s promise softened by affection. “We’ll finish this,” she said, her lips curving into a warm smile, her eyes glowing with a Troi-like vow that stirred his heart.

They rose, their connection still alive as they dressed. Luna slipped into her uniform, the Starfleet black fitting her frame with quiet authority, her fingers grazing Lucas’s arm as she passed, a subtle, Riker-Troi gesture that warmed him. Lucas pulled on his jacket, his eyes following her, the air soft with Paris-Torres anticipation. As she secured her combadge, Luna glanced at him, her smile teasing but kind. “Keep up, Lucas,” she murmured, her voice a Kirk-like promise, laced with warmth.
He stepped closer, his hand brushing her shoulder, a Troi-like vow in his touch. “Always, Luna,” he replied, his voice low, their bond a flame duty could only pause. They moved toward the door, their steps in sync, the Intrepid’s call drawing them to command, but their shared glance swore they’d return to this moment.

Intelligence Department - USS Intrepid

The doors parted, revealing the Intelligence Department’s sleek expanse, its consoles aglow with streams of data and the faint hum of encrypted signals. Ensign Taryn Wells stood at the central station, her posture alert, her eyes darting between a glowing display and the arriving officers. The room pulsed with quiet urgency, the weight of an unseen challenge pressing against its orderly calm.

"Whats the situation Ensign?" asked Lucas as he walked towards her. "Captain Janeway is here and can be brought up to speed on what is going on."

"Yes sir," said Wells, "Seems we have a temporal situation happening just 7 lightyears away. A temporal rift is opening like a tear in....."

"Space," said Lucas, "Ensign where did you get this information?"


"The Romulins have been watching this for the past three hours. The space time continuum could be shredded."

Lucas looked at Janeway. "Looks like another screw up we have to fix my love," he said.

Luna’s eyes narrowed as she absorbed the gravity of Ensign Wells’s report, her polished combat boots gleaming under the Intelligence Department’s harsh lights—a silent testament to the discipline that had carried her through years of loss. She stepped forward, her red command undershirt a bold stripe against the black of her uniform, her Klingon ridges catching the glow of the consoles. Her voice, steady with a Worf-like edge yet softened by Troi’s empathy, cut through the tension.

“A temporal rift tearing the continuum… the Romulans watching, no doubt plotting their advantage,” she said, her gaze flicking to Lucas with a flicker of their shared past—years of thinking him gone, now reclaimed. A faint, Jadzia-like smile tugged at her lips as she added, “Another mess to clean up, my love—but at least we’ll face it together this time.”
She turned to Wells, her tone shifting to a captain’s command, laced with Paris-Torres determination. “Ensign, pull every sensor log and Romulan transmission you can find. I want a full analysis of that rift’s energy signature—now. Lucas, coordinate with engineering; we’ll need a plan to stabilize it before it shreds us all.” Her hand brushed his briefly, a subtle Riker-Troi gesture, her fingers lingering as if to anchor their bond amidst the chaos. “We’ll finish what we started later,” she murmured, her voice a low growl of promise, her eyes holding his with a warmth that defied the urgency around them.

Lucas started to bring up the computer network in the intel offices. "Captain we can do all that from here." he said, "The way I had this entire department laid out, I could run the entire ship from here if we needed to. Ensign Wells," he said, "go get the sensor readouts from Engineering as I scour the ship's mainframe fore anything pertaining to the Romulans and the rift. No Luna, it isn't the Nexus that Picard and Kirk fell into. It is something different. Something that won't so to speak kill us, but could rewrite our history or even our existence."

"Commander," said Wells, "I got the sensor reports from engineering and I am sending them to you and Captain Janeway." Wells sent the reports and Lucas patched them over to Janeway's trusty padd. "Captain," said Lucas, that rift or ribbon is gonna hit this ship in less than two hours. It is like the makers of the universe want to rewrite our origins, our current lives and our futures."

Luna’s gaze hardened as the sensor reports flickered across her padd, the polished gleam of her combat boots catching the console’s light—a quiet reminder of the discipline that had sustained her through years of loss and duty. She stood tall, her red command undershirt a bold declaration of her authority, her Klingon ridges casting sharp shadows as she processed the threat. Her voice, a Worf-like growl tempered by Troi’s warmth, rang with command. “A rift that could unravel our very existence… the Romulans may watch, but we’ll strike first,” she declared, her eyes locking with Lucas’s, a flicker of their shared past—his return from the dead—fueling her resolve. A faint, Jadzia-like smirk curved her lips as she added, “Another battle to win, my love—together, as always.”
She turned to the console, her fingers flying over the controls with Paris-Torres precision, pulling up the engineering data. “Ensign Wells, good work—cross-reference those sensor logs with any temporal anomaly records from the Enterprise or Voyager archives. We need patterns, weaknesses.” Her hand brushed Lucas’s arm briefly, a Riker-Troi gesture of trust, her touch lingering as she murmured, “This rift won’t steal our future—not after I fought to reclaim you.” Her voice dropped, a low growl of promise, her eyes holding his with a warmth that defied the ticking clock.

Stepping back to the central display, she analyzed the data, her polished boots shifting with a warrior’s stance. “Lucas, patch me into engineering—direct link to Assistant Chief Engineer Kade’s team. We’ll need a containment field or a temporal shield, something to hold that rift at bay. If it hits in two hours, we have no margin for error.” Her gaze softened as she glanced at him, her human heart breaking through her Klingon facade. “Our history, our lives… I won’t let it be rewritten—not when we’ve just found each other again. Let’s make this right.” Her hand squeezed his, a silent vow, as she prepared to lead them through the storm.

Lucas looked at Luna and pulled away abruptly. "I will figure this out my love," he said, "I just need twenty minutes." Lucas went and sat at a computer in the Intell office. He started to crunch the numbers. "Luna this thing is rewriting the galaxy as we know it."

Luna felt a pang as Lucas turned to the computer, the distance stirring memories of their lost years. Her polished combat boots gleamed under the Intelligence Department’s lights, a sign of her discipline, paired with her red command undershirt and black Starfleet pants. Her pocket watch ticked softly against her chest. She stepped back, nodding to let him lead, her voice steady. “The galaxy’s at stake, Lucas—guide us through this,” she said, her light brown eyes showing trust with a hint of concern.

"Look Luna," said Lucas, "This thing is gonna rewrite everything in three hours."


Lucas walked over to Luna and kissed her. Ensign Welles left the Intell department and headed to Engineering.

Everything has been going on now Luna’s like suddenly Luna all at once in her brain “oh my gosh I just really remember feeling that way about how to happen now I think it’s time now I thinkd we a doom to reality the ones that we were supposed to meet years ago before you went on that mission and left me one night and never came back and you crushed me and then you left for me dead and I were about to go rise up our 2 twin daughters along with having the same responsibility as captain of the ship.” Luna clings on Lucas, holding him for dear life.

Just then the ribbon or tear hit the ship. Lucas looked at Luna and then collapsed. The ship was hit with this very bright white light. Within seconds it was gone.

The temporal rift’s energy pulsed through the Intelligence Department, a subtle tremor rippling across the consoles as Lucas staggered, his knees buckling before he sank to the deck with a soft grunt. Luna’s heart skipped, her Klingon ridges tightening, but her light brown eyes caught his steady breathing—relief quelled her worry. He wasn’t badly hurt, just dazed. Memories of their past—years of believing him dead, raising their twin daughters alone—flickered briefly, but her love for him burned stronger, grounding her.
“Lucas!” Her voice, a mix of Worf’s grit and Troi’s warmth, carried a captain’s authority softened by affection. She knelt beside him, her red command undershirt bold against her black Starfleet uniform, her pocket watch ticking softly against her chest. Her hand found his, her fingers brushing his wrist, feeling his steady pulse. “You’re all right,” she said, a Jadzia-like spark in her tone, “but you’re not ducking out of this fight, my love.” A faint smile tugged at her lips as she tapped her combadge with Paris-Torres precision. =/= “Janeway to Sickbay—send a medic to Intel. Commander Redd’s a bit shaken but conscious. Make it quick.” =/=

Rising, Luna’s polished combat boots planted firmly as her gaze swept the room. The consoles hummed, data streams flickering as the rift’s effects lingered. Her voice, sharp with Kirk-like resolve, cut through the tension. “Ensign, stabilize those sensor feeds—give me a status on that rift. Is it still active, or are we in the clear?” Her eyes flicked to Lucas, who stirred, propping himself up with a wry grin. Her heart eased, but duty held her focus. She wouldn’t let this rift unravel their reality—not her ship, not her crew, not their family.

Lucas started to regain consciousness before the medical team arrived. He looked at Luna as he was regaining consciousness. "Who are you?" he asked. Lucas looked around and things looked different to him. He had just been in the academy and now he was on a ship, one he had no memory of boarding.

Luna knelt beside Lucas in the Intelligence Department, the temporal rift’s aftershocks still humming through the USS Intrepid’s consoles. Her polished combat boots steadied her, her red command undershirt bold against her black uniform, her pocket watch ticking softly. The rift had scrambled her mind—fragments of loss, years apart, and a vivid flash of their twin baby girls, K’Ehleyr and Elara, flickered in her thoughts. Her light brown eyes locked onto Lucas, his own memory fractured, his gaze confused as he stared at her, a stranger in his eyes. Her heart pounded, love and resolve surging. He was the father of their daughters—real or not, the rift made them feel alive.
She leaned closer, her hand sliding to his, fingers intertwining with a Klingon’s strength and a human’s tenderness.

“Lucas,” she whispered, her voice a Worf-like growl laced with Troi’s warmth, “you’re my love, the father of our twin girls—K’Ehleyr and Elara. The rift’s playing tricks, but they’re ours.” Her lips brushed his cheek, a seductive, Paris-Torres heat in her touch, her athletic frame pressing gently against him to stir his memory. Her eyes burned, a Jadzia-like spark of hope, as she murmured, “You held me through the night, gave me our family. Feel that truth.”

Her fingers traced his chest, a Riker-Troi intimacy in her slow, deliberate caress, her breath warm against his ear. “Our daughters—our fierce little warrior, our bright star—they’re waiting for us to fight for them.” She kissed him softly, her lips lingering, a fiery promise to reclaim their bond. Pulling back, her gaze held his, a captain’s resolve blazing. “We’re a family, Lucas. The rift won’t steal that. Stay with me—we’ll bring you back.” Her hand squeezed his, a vow, as the hum of approaching medics echoed, her heart set on anchoring him to their twin girls and their shared life.

"A family?" said Lucas, "a family with you? A whore?" Lucas started to think what the hell was going on.

“Lucas,” Luna said, her voice cracking with Troi’s warmth, firm yet tender. “You’re on the USS Intrepid, our ship. I’m Luna Janeway, your fiancée, your captain.” Her hand gripped his, fingers entwined with Klingon strength and human care. She leaned in, her breath warm, a Paris-Torres intimacy in her tone. “This is the Intelligence Department—consoles, data, the hum you know. A temporal rift hit us, seven light-years out, scrambled your mind. But you’re mine, father of our twin girls, K’Ehleyr and Elara—your kids, our legacy.” Her lips grazed his cheek, a fiery, gentle kiss to spark memory.

She gestured to the room—sleek stations, glowing displays. “You designed this, Lucas, to command the ship. We’re engaged, building a life—your ring, our vows, our daughters.” Her eyes locked with his, a Jadzia-like hope burning. “Feel the Intrepid, my love. We’re here, together, fighting this. Stay with me.” Her hand squeezed his, a fiancée’s vow, fierce and loving, as medics neared, her heart set on reclaiming their bond.

Lucas looked around again "If you are my fiancé," he said, "then why don't we just fuck right here in my office?"
"Computer seal the doors to the Intel Offices," he said as he grabbed Luna and kissed her passionately on the mouth. He began to tear at her uniform.

Luna allowed him to continue to tearing up her uniform as she continued kissing him passionately as she hugged him tightly as she stood in front of his face.

Soon Luna stood there in only her combat boots. Lucas began making love to her. He started with her breasts, sucking on them like that was going out of style. His hands roamed over her now nude body. He began rubbing and fingering her clit. "Well if you weren't my lover before this," he said, "you will be after this."

TBC

 

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