Vivienne Claybrook knew that she didn’t belong on the Cupertino, and the past few hours had made that abundantly clear. As the only non-Starfleet person on the ship, she wasn’t exactly disliked, but a lot of times she had the impression of being regarded as some kind of pet, or a child. Someone to be indulged and encouraged to voice ideas and opinions, but not being taken entirely seriously. It was a very painful callback to how her family – all of them Starfleet Officers – regarded her career choices, and little failures that had eventually led her here. 

She had helped out in the triage centre that had once been the ship’s unique recreational area, but had quickly discovered that her first-aid-course and the umpteenth play-through of every medical holo-drama ever created didn’t rival the medical training of … pretty much everyone else on the ship. 

But she had tried. She really had. 

For hours, Vivienne had applied analgesics and dermal regenerators, spoken to crewmen who were either scared, angry, or both, and had supported wherever it was required – until a well-meaning Doctor Trova had suggested her to take a break. 

She had said that Vivienne had done a good job, and that she was not only allowed but required to look after herself and make sure she herself was doing alright. But what the young Betazoid-Human hybrid had heard was that she wasn’t needed, or at least not useful enough to let her stay. 

And now she was here. 

The crew lounge was empty at this hour. Vivienne’s footfalls sounded harsh and unnatural in an area that was usually bathed in the sound of people chatting, glasses being picked up and set down, and cutlery clinking against plates. As she approached one of the tables, she barely dared to move the chair enough to take a seat. Despite her efforts the sound of metal scraping against the floor was so loud it had her flinch. The room might be empty, but she didn’t feel alone – in the worst sense of the expression. Instead, she felt watched. Observed. 

She placed her palms on the table. The material felt like wood, but was cool to the touch. Likely some sort of metal she didn’t know the name of, considering that wood in a spaceship was something reserved for the bookshelves in which Captain’s kept their trophies and artefacts. But it felt nice, and it grounded her. 

Vivienne turned her gaze toward the large window front which she believed it must be another custom thing that was unique to the Cupertino. She didn’t know much about what exactly each and every class of vessel was equipped with, but-… no wait, that wasn’t right. She frowned and shook her head. She did know. 

She sighed and got up, and this time the scraping of the chair didn’t even bother her any more. Neither did the sound of her footsteps as she approached the window. She knew exactly what a California-class vessel was equipped with, just like she knew – or had a suspicion – as to what it was they were facing right now. But two failed attempts at Starfleet Academy’s entry exam had made her doubt herself, and were the reason she now felt that Captain Nassar’s invitation for anyone with an idea as to where they were could approach her was directed at everyone aside her. 

Staring at the foreboding blackness outside, Vivienne exhaled, slowly starting to appreciate the darkness and the silence, and with it the reduction of sensory input that had become overwhelming in the past few hours. Which however didn’t mean that she felt any more at ease. The sensation of being watched remained, as if there was something in the void that observed her and waited. A chill ran down her spine as her mind recalled the horrors other ships had encountered in the depths of space. Enemies that sought to kill them, unknown and all-powerful entities that played cruel tricks on their minds, and dangerous natural phenomena that threatened to tear the ship apart. Space was scary. Sometimes Vivienne wondered why she was drawn to it. 

“I’m not afraid of you.”, she told the void, and stared it down as much as that was possible. She was secretly glad that the void didn’t respond. 

And then she noticed something. A small source of light in the vastness of space, glowing in a rose-tinted light. She was sure that it hadn’t been there before, which wasn’t a surprise. It just meant that they were moving, even if slowly. A star, perhaps, or a far-away sun that illuminated a blackness that suddenly didn’t seem all too complete any more. 

“Computer, can you turn off the lights, please?”, she asked and waited for a moment in which she imagined the computer considering her request. Then, the lights dimmed, gradually lowering in intensity until darkness swallowed the empty chairs and empty tables around Vivienne. She narrowed her eyes, adjusting them to the blackness, and once more turned to the window. The rose-tinted light had disappeared, and for a moment she felt disappointed. She had, perhaps, hoped that they were headed towards it. 

But her disappointment didn’t last. While the sun had disappeared, the adjusted lighting allowed her to spot emerging specks of colour within the backdrop of gloom. 

In the distance, a sprawling nebula wove its tendrils through the void, their shapes constantly shifting and evolving, and shimmering with shades of violet, azure, and crimson. Vivienne imagined the clouds of gas and dust illuminated by the young stars within, and if she closed her eyes for just a few moments, she could almost see the mesmerisng display of light and shadow.

Beyond the nebula, a cluster of stars glimmered with a cold, steady brilliance, like diamonds scattered across a velvet blanket, and further afield, there was a faint, elongated smudge that might be a galaxy, or perhaps another nebula. 

All these things were aspects she hadn’t noticed when she had concentrated on the blackness and compared it to the space they had left behind when they were pulled into the aperture. It was like a painting, like a perfectly woven tapestry of different phenomena that seemed so different from each other, but still belonged. 

It reminded her a little of the crew of the Cupertino, where people of different backgrounds and with different experiences and goals in life found a way to work together, and where no one felt out of place for long. 

She sighed. What about her? And because she didn’t come up with an answer, the posed the question to the universe instead. 

“What about me?”, she asked, her voice barely a whisper. 

She didn’t expect a response. She honestly hoped there wouldn’t be a response, but it came regardless and in form of a solitary comet, its nucleus a bright pinpoint trailing a tail of ice and dust. Its ethereal glow contrasted with the more static celestial bodies around it.
 t was different. But in a way that made it appear interesting and unique rather than out of place. As it traveled through space, Vivienne wondered where else it had been, and where else it would travel. 

She took another deep breath, reflecting on feeling both infinitesimal small and incredibly privileged, like she had been privy to not just one universal truth, but several. That there was always a spark of light within blackness once you adjust your perception. And that different didn’t mean one couldn’t belong.

And there was another truth she was learning – that peace and quiet of a space ship during an emergency situation wasn’t really a thing. She realised that as the door slid open, and the light from the adjacent corridor brightened the room and blackened the display in front of her. 

Vivienne turned, quickly determining the shadowy figure in the doorway to be Doctor Trova.

“Why are the lights off?”, asked Trova, the usual irritation in her voice not fully gone, but offset by confusion. 

“I’m sorry.”, Vivienne said, quickly asking the computer to turn the lights back on. The Doctor looked like she, too, could use a break, and for a moment Viv considered that was why she had come here. Then she remembered that Doctor Trova didn’t believe in breaks, and probably not in sleep either. 

“No need to be sorry. It was just a question.”, the Doctor said, approaching her. “Are you feeling better?”

Vivienne blinked. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it wasn’t this questions. She hadn’t been injured, and she hadn’t worked nearly as much as Trova had. Apparently, the confusion showed on her face, and the Doctor clarified. 

“I have worked with Betazoids before, and when the whole ship is in turmoil, it’s only natural you pick up on it. Only very experienced empaths can build a barrier to that overload of emotion, I don’t blame you for getting overwhelmed.”, she said, and ended her statement with a light shrug. 

Vivienne’s heart skipped a beat or two, and her breath caught in her throat. She shook her head. “I don’t have any telepathy, or empathy. It just kind of… skipped me.”

And it was the reason there was such an unbridgeable distance between her and her family. All of them, and through a quirk of nature even her human father, were either telepathically, or empathically gifted, or both. She was the defective one. 

Doctor Trova raised an eyebrow. “Miss Claybrook.”, she said, her tone very much that of any school teacher Vivienne had ever had. “You said you failed your entry exams because you get distracted, and people like to come and talk to you rather than with our actual Counsellor because apparently you understand exactly how they feel. Whatever it is that makes you that way, be it a Betazoid trait or not, I am pretty sure it exists and I would appreciate you not telling me otherwise.” 

Vivienne lowered her gaze like a scolded child, as her heart once more skipped a beat, but this time around did so in a happy way. As happy as faulty cardiac impulse transmission could possibly be. 

“I am fine now. Can I help some more?” 

“Sure.”, said Trova. “But not in the triage centre. I am setting you up in my office and I want you to … talk. To whoever needs it. And when things get too much, I expect you to tell me and to take a break.” She jutted her chin towards the window. “Spend some time looking at the comet, or something.” 

“You can see it?”, asked Vivienne, evidently surprised. With the lighting conditions as they were not, all she had seen was a black void lurking outside the window. 

“Sure I can.”, nodded Trova. “It’s pretty. Let’s go.”