Star Trek, page 18
“They can’t stand on the deck?” As if punctuating her point, Landry thumped her own boot on the floor. “Interesting.”
“It would account for the sensor readings Mister Rhys and I saw, which seemed to move too quickly from deck to deck. Even the canisters I attempted to touch in the lab seemed disconnected from the ship’s structure.” Airiam reached out toward them, and just as before, her hand went through. “Like ghosts.”
“Not a fan of ghost stories. You?”
Airiam hesitated, a bit surprised at such an unexpected question from the security officer. “Not really. But I like any story, if well told.”
As they patrolled, Landry remarked, “You say there are advantages to your augmentations. I’m guessing there are disadvantages, too.”
Airiam stopped and looked Landry in the eye. “Yes, there are.”
“I’m blunt, I know that. I’d like to say it’s a chief-of-security thing, but I think it’s really an Ellen Landry thing.”
“I don’t mind blunt.” Resuming their patrol, she leaned toward Landry as if confiding a secret. “You’d be surprised how refreshing it is when people are direct. It’s one of the things I admire about Captain Burnham. She’s very frank.”
“Vulcan schools will do that.” Off a blip from her tricorder, Landry pointed with her phaser. “Over here, in this alcove.”
“Checking.” Her own phaser holstered, Airiam surveyed the recess, which provided access to a Jefferies tube into the inner bulkhead. She hesitated, watching two wispy forms curled around each other. “I think they’re … I could be reading into this.”
“What?” Landry tensed, her weapon in hand. “Tell me what you see.”
Like looking through a fog, Airiam could only make out the most obvious of motions. “Kissing, perhaps?” She glanced over at the commander, eyes wide. It could have been more than that, of course. Or something completely different. She had no way to be certain.
Landry peered down at her phaser. “I’ve never shot anyone for that.”
“Good to know. I’ll pass the word along to the crew.”
“Send the section coordinates to the bridge to continue to monitor this”—Landry motioned toward the alcove—“whatever this is.”
Airiam tapped the location into her padd and sent the report. “What do you expect to do with the phaser?” she asked as they continued their patrol. “You can’t hit them. They’re on a different quantum wavelength.”
“Security blanket. Pun intended,” Landry said. “So, you said there were disadvantages?” When Airiam glanced quickly at her, she added, “Blunt, remember?”
It was an old story, but since she hadn’t told it to the security chief, and her personnel file had only the relevant information included, Airiam was willing to be accommodating. “In my accident, my brain suffered significant trauma to its memory centers. While my neural augmentations do not store most of my old memories, more recent engrams are facilitated and stored cybernetically.” The deck patrol complete, they stopped at the turbolift and when the doors opened, Airiam boarded and turned to face her crewmate. “We met nine months and four days ago. A Thursday. Eleven hundred thirty-six hours. That memory is stored artificially.” Looking toward the lift indicator, Airiam told the computer to move to the next location on their route.
“Forever?” Landry asked.
“If I don’t delete it.”
“Why would you?”
“Storage is not unlimited.” Airiam wasn’t sure what she saw in the security officer’s face. Not pity—she’d received that from many but rarely from her Starfleet comrades. She’d seen it from her in-laws, soon after the accident, for example. But in time, she had demonstrated that pity was unnecessary. “Some content is deleted on a regular basis.”
“You say that like you’re cleaning out a closet.”
“An apt analogy.” Airiam shrugged, but knew the up-and-down motion of her shoulders was not as refined as it used to be and probably appeared … robotic.
When the lift doors opened, they resumed their task.
“How do you decide what to delete?” Landry asked after a short time.
“With great care,” she said as evocatively as possible, then added, “I keep that which is meaningful.”
Gesturing toward the way they’d turn, Landry asked: “You don’t keep the good and delete the bad?”
“Our memories, positive and negative, are what make us,” Airiam said. “I remove that which won’t inform my future actions.”
“Yeah.”
“Would you delete your bad memories if you could?” Airiam didn’t just appreciate frank discussions from one side; she was capable of engaging in them herself. Landry could be a bit of a mystery as well, and she was curious to know her better. Now seemed like an appropriate time.
The silence churned between them as the security officer contemplated an answer. “I don’t know. I probably would. And then regret it later.”
“What bad memories would you consider deleting, Ellen?” Airiam felt calling her by rank would be awkward considering the very personal question.
“My mother was emotionally abusive.” Landry paused and her eyes darted away a moment. “And … my father let it happen.”
It was a more direct answer than Airiam had expected, and even though she eschewed pity, she felt a pang of it for Landry. “Would you delete them from your life?”
“They’re both dead now, but no. I loved them.” Landry twisted away as if looking for something up the corridor, but perhaps it was just to hide her face. “They were my parents. And … realizing they were human only came after I lost them. I knew my mother was damaged beyond fixing from about the age of five. I endowed my father with sainthood until he died.”
“What changed that?” Airiam asked quietly.
“Things that told me he wasn’t as selfless as I thought.” Landry’s voice didn’t falter but there was a vein of emotion through it. “I’d always run to him for protection, and it wasn’t until after his death that I realized he wasn’t protecting me, as much as he was preserving the status quo of their relationship.”
“You felt betrayed.”
Landry turned back, her lips a flat line of forced stoicism. “In the greater scheme of things, it didn’t matter. It was what it was. I’m here all the same.”
Airiam reached out, sympathetically putting her hand on Landry’s shoulder. “I embrace my painful memories for the same reason: because they’re mine.”
Not meeting her eyes, the security officer buried her nose in her tricorder. “This section is clear.” Her voice was strong and didn’t betray the rawness it might cover.
Purposely sounding more upbeat, Airiam let the connection they’d shared rest. “Then on to the next.”
* * *
Tilly finished bringing the data up on the secondary lab console. She didn’t think she’d forgotten anything: all the equations, a list of the tools needed and where they were stored, and a list of tools that probably weren’t needed, and where they were stored—and a shorter list of tools Bryce would never need but, just in case, where they, too, were stored.
Lists helped to control her anxiety. They didn’t have to be necessary.
“Okay, I have to work with Commander Saru now. Do you have this?” Tilly asked.
“I do,” Bryce assured her. “It’s a transmitter, Tilly—stop being a mother hen.” He smiled and his neatly trimmed beard made it seem like a wider grin. Did he have to trim it every day to look like that? Or did he apply something to suppress hair growth in specific areas? How did that work for beards?
“Yeah, no. You’re good.” She moved toward the reaction cube.
“If I have a question, you’re right here,” he reminded her.
She pointed to where Saru had opened an access panel to belowdecks. “Underneath the deck, but yeah.”
“Ah, Ensign. I’ve already removed the main plate,” the first officer told her from his kneeling position. “The multistage safety processor should be here.”
Tilly grabbed the nearby toolkit and lowered herself to her stomach near the open panel. “Ready to get your hands dirty, Commander?”
Eyes wide, Saru put up a finger. “Should either of us get our hands dirty, I believe we will have made incalculable errors.”
Tilly blinked at him, uncertain if he was kidding. “Oh, that’s just a figure of speech, sir.” Shouldn’t he have known that?
“Ensign, I have learned over ninety languages. Among my lexicon is the colloquialism about getting one’s hands dirty, along with, dare I say, thousands more you’ve never heard.”
“Of course, sorry, sir.”
He reached for the toolkit and pulled it closer in one fluid move. “Also, I do have a sense of humor.”
“Oh, agreed, sir.” She leaned over and whispered, hoping she didn’t sound patronizing. “You’re very amusing.”
“No need to be condescending, Ensign.” He sounded at least mildly exasperated, perhaps more.
“No, sir, of course not, sir.” Opening the housing above the power conduit that led to the processor, Tilly pointed to the spool of ODN cable Saru had opened. “Sir?”
He pulled a section off the spool and pushed it toward her. “Do you believe this will work?”
She stopped heaving the line in midpull. “You’re asking me ?” This was his idea—his plan. Was he testing her?
“You spend the bulk of your time in this lab. You know this equipment second only to Mister Stamets.”
True, and it was nice to be recognized, though she often felt self-conscious about the kudos. Tilly could track that back to her mother, but knowing the source of one’s anxiety didn’t necessarily help alleviate it. One of the things she was working on was accepting compliments without reticence. “Thank you, sir. I think it will work. I just wish we had a chance to test it.”
“So does the captain,” Saru said. “As do I and Mister Stamets.”
Connecting the ODN cable to the safety housing, Tilly reached out for the harmonic sealer that was just out of her reach.
Saru placed it in her hand. Mister Stamets might have only pushed it toward her.
“How is he, to you?”
“I beg your pardon?” The Kelpien looked over to her. “Whom?”
“Mister Stamets. I mean, how does he seem to you, sir?” Running the sealer around the circumference of the cable, Tilly waited the standard three seconds, then made a second pass. “He’s been different today, you know? Look how he is with Doctor Culber.”
Reaching out for her to pass the sealer back, Saru said, “I’m not sure this is an appropriate discussion to have about your superior officer.”
She handed him the implement. “Sorry, sir.”
Mirroring Tilly, Saru sealed his end of the cable. After a silence that Tilly could only endure for so long, she considered a number of things she might say to nevertheless draw him back into that topic. Anything’s better than an eternity of taciturnity, she thought, and inwardly giggled at the rhyme.
Finally, he was first to speak again. “On a strictly personal level, I share your concern for the lieutenant.” He reached for another processor. “But, I also trust his sensibilities.”
The ensign pointed to a different area. “Oh, no, not there. We need to modify this one.” Correcting a superior officer’s mistake or miscalculation—or anyone’s for that matter—was never comfortable. Not because she feared some retribution, but because there was an inherent dread her mind was moving too quickly and that he wasn’t wrong because she was two steps ahead.
“Yes, thank you.” Saru’s kindness at being corrected, or just in general, was comforting.
Tilly recognized that on the path to being a captain she’d someday be a first officer, and Saru was the finest she knew. Her sample size was small, but still …
“Why’re you doing this, sir?” She gestured to indicate their work.
“Hmm?” Saru asked. “To get my hands dirty, as you said.”
She smiled slyly, believing she knew the first officer’s real motives. “I think you’re here to see that Mister Stamets is okay too.”
Saru shook his head. “Focus on your work, Ensign.”
“Aye, sir.” One day she’d have to be just as measured in her responses to subordinates, though it seemed impossible from where she sat.
“We have it, Mister Saru,” Stamets called out.
Saru drew himself up to a standing position. It was an unusual movement for him, less graceful than Tilly was accustomed to seeing, almost like a baby doe standing from a prone position.
“We, Lieutenant?”
Stamets motioned to Culber. “Hugh was invaluable.”
The doctor self-consciously waved the notion away. “I’m not sure how true that is.”
“The harmonics we need to use are biology based. You’re a doctor.” Stamets’s exuberance was not only writ on his face but appeared to wash over Culber as well.
He seemed to bask within it. “You’re the astromycologist. I only—”
Saru lithely gestured toward the exit. “Gentlemen, while I appreciate the mutual admiration, I ask that you get these changes to Mister Rhys.”
“Aye, sir.” Stamets also motioned toward the doors, allowing Culber to precede him.
Tilly watched them leave and when they were safely into the corridor, she spun her head toward the first officer. “See! You saw that, right?”
His tight brow drawn down, Saru chastised her. “Ensign …”
“Sorry,” she said, remembering herself. “Can you hand me the microcoupler, sir?”
He stretched toward the toolbox, and in one fluid motion moved it from the case to her hand. “If I’m not mistaken, this is the last step.”
Tilly pushed the small coupler onto the two conduit ends and locked it in place. “It really should be tested …”
“We have very limited time, I’m afraid. I am returning to the bridge.” He smoothed out his uniform. “I will run an additional simulation and consult you on the results. Please attend to the cleanup and then continue to assist Mister Bryce.”
18
Looking over her tactical officer’s shoulder, Michael Burnham seemed to scan through the data as quickly as Stamets entered it. “This is good,” she told him as Culber watched them both. “This may buy us a few more hours.”
“It will mimic the yeel bark as well as some of Hugh’s own makeup,” Stamets said, giving the doctor’s arm a squeeze.
“I appreciate your contributions as well,” Burnham told Culber, and he sensed she was more accepting of him.
Still, he knew he’d done little. “Some scans and a few blood samples I didn’t mind giving up. Mostly I just kept him company.”
“He’s too modest.” Stamets was being defensive on Culber’s behalf, and while it was probably unnecessary, it did feel good to see.
“Paul’s the one who knew what to look for. And how to make the shields trick the JahSepp into sensing there’s a thick layer of yeel-bark dust covering the Discovery.”
“It was good work,” the captain said.
As familiar as it all was to Culber, the vibe on this Discovery’s bridge was far different from his own. Captain Lorca extracted a certain attitude and demanded a demeanor among his crew that created a militaristic aura. Granted, there was a war on in his own universe, and peacetime in general shaped a distinctive atmosphere, but he suspected that compared to Lorca, a Captain Burnham in his universe would have interacted quite inversely with her crew.
The doctor watched her easy manner as she issued orders across her bridge. She had a command style that pulled the crew in, and Culber could tell she was the kind of leader under whom he could proudly serve. Would he be allowed to? There already was a Doctor Hugh Culber in this Starfleet. Would they permit two?
He looked at Stamets as he discussed shield power levels with Rhys.
Yes, it wasn’t his Paul, but in so many ways he seemed to be the Stamets for him. If he could have a wish, would Culber put himself back in his universe, with his Paul Stamets, or would he wish to have been born into this one, so that his fitting into a life with this man wouldn’t be a problem?
“Some of these changes have to be made at the emitters,” Rhys said, pulling Culber’s attention back to the discussion at hand.
“Lifts are still achingly slow. Are transporters working?” Stamets asked.
“I wouldn’t trust transporters just yet,” Saru replied.
Burnham pulled a blue card from the tactical station and handed it to Stamets. “I’ll let engineering know you’re on your way.”
He snapped up the data card and motioned Culber to join him in the lift.
Once they were gone and the lift was on its way, the captain spun to Saru. “Landry and Airiam should be done with their sweep, correct?”
“I believe so.”
She pulled out her communicator and flipped up the antenna grid. The device chirped alive. “Burnham to Landry.”
“Landry here.”
The captain watched the frequency oscillations on the communicator’s display. The very nature of mycelial space disturbed the bulk of their technology. Even something as simple as the device in her hand. “Commander, I want you to meet Lieutenant Stamets and Doctor Culber in engineering.”
“Aye, Captain. Airiam and I were just finishing up.”
“Have Airiam report to the spore lab to assist there.”
“Acknowledged.”
“Bridge out.”
When the captain returned to her chair, the first officer followed. “You have concerns?” he asked, in a low enough voice that only she could have heard him.
“My concerns have concerns.” She motioned to a Discovery schematic on her chair readout. “Where have intruders been most localized?”
Without glancing toward the display, Saru instantly answered: “Sickbay, the spore lab, and its adjacent cultivation bay.”
