— USS Selene, Senior Officer’s Lounge Delphi —

There was a quiet that had defended on the ship. Not running at full speed and with the cadets and some junior officers on the planet’s southern continent, everything seemed more relaxed. Of course, science was still occurring, the Selene had dozens of science labs and hundreds of projects ongoing on top of the study of the planet’s indigenous people. Scans were also being done from orbit and flying by non-populated areas of the planet with runabouts for a closer look. It was a good test of the USS Selene’s scientific systems since her first mission which wasn’t a milk run had been a battle against pirates.

After several weeks of running at top warp the engineering team had taken the warp engines offline for realignment and to do some work on them. They had impulse power, but they’d not moved since entering orbit around the planet, ensuring that they were unseen by populated areas.

Captain Olivia Carrillo settled into a booth in the lounge with a large hot chocolate made from thick Spanish chocolate. A plate of churros were set down by the server, one of the few non-Starfleet crew aboard the ship. With little for a non-scientifically minded captain to do, she was taking some much-needed personal time to read a book on book on the life of Ambassador Spock the Vulcan who had died trying to prevent the Romulan sun from going supernova. It had failed and their people had been scattered to the wind, and government fractured. The violence that followed particularly with the Klingons was unfortunate.

She had just gotten to his first death, the one that had eventually lead to the Enterprise being stolen and the crew being demoted, when Carrillo noticed someone standing over her table. She looked up.

“What are you eating?” asked the Selene’s Chief Flight Control Officer Lieutenant Pr’Nor. As the ship was not moving for the most part the flight control department did not have a great deal to do aside from ensuring that the ship was not crashing or being spotted by the local inhabitants. Aside from minute adjustments, it was tedious work. Carrillo knew that her husband, Lieutenant Lambert, had spent all day in training simulators rather than on the bridge.

“It’s called churros and chocolate,” Carrillo said, “it is popular in the Spain region of Earth.”

It was clear that the Vulcan was not just inquiring about the snack that the captain was having, and that a further conversation would be required. While Vulcans were known for their sometimes blunt honesty, they could also have a hard time opening up to people particularly those that were relative strangers. It had been several months that the two women had worked together, but Carrillo knew that she was still the new woman on the ship, or at least with that crew many of which had been together through now three ships.

Pushing the plate out she said, “Sit, try one. Can we get another hot chocolate, same specs.”

The bartender who was also the lounge’s only server on  nodded and went about preparing one. Spanish hot chocolate was thicker and richer than the kind that North American’s were used to and thankfully on a ship the size of the Selene they were able to use real chocolate rather than replicating it.

Pr’Nor sat and was quiet, waiting for the small cup to arrive. When it did Captain Carrillo picked up a churro and dipped it in her own cup, demonstrating how she ate it.

“So what’s on your mind Pr’Nor?” She asked, “I know you didn’t come here to ask about churros. You sought me out, and picked the lounge so what’s up, my husband being a pain in the ass.”

The Vulcan shook her head. Because of their relationship, the management of Lieutenant Lambert fell entirely on Pr’Nor, who was his section lead. It likely would have been awkward, managing the captain’s husband, for any other officer but the Vulcan did not seem to find the situation at all uncomfortable.
“Your husband has not handled my ass in any way,” Pr’Nor reported.

“Well that’s not what I meant, but I’m also glad about that. Is he causing trouble?” Carrillo said, she doubted it but she could not imagine what else was so delicate that the Vulcan had not raised it at one of the senior staff briefings.

“It is about your husband and you, are you satisfied with your marriage?” the Vulcan asked.

Carrillo had not expected that, and had no idea where the conversation was now going. Dipping her churro again she nodded, “I am happy, why?”

“I am thinking of asking Lieutenant Tashai to marry me,” Pr’Nor said, “but she is difficult to figure. She is, as you know, very old.”

The captain nodded, Tashai was one of the oldest members of the crew being born in what was once called the 1970s back on Earth. Only Murf, the engineer, seemed to be older than that. Carrillo shrugged, “If you were dating a human would you worry about then being young?”

Several well-known Vulcans had dated humans, including Spock’s father Ambassador Sarek who was likely the most famous Vulcan even now throughout Starfleet.

“I would not,” Pr’Nor said, “In fact dating a human is something I have done. During my Academy days, I dated a woman who owned a bakery near campus.”

“Look I’m the captain, but I’m not an expert. I dated, largely badly, and I found a guy in  a ship from like two centuries ago and married him,” Carrillo said, “So I don’t think my experience translates. But you’ll have to get used to being the young one.”

The Vulcan nodded, “Thank you. I understand there is very little you can advise me on in this case.”

“Just talk to her,” Carrillo said, “be open with her, and tell her. She doesn’t strike me as someone who would dump you just over a desire to marry.”

— Planetside, Academy Camp —

Doctor Thomas Elordi gave the leg another scan then nodded at the cadet, it wasn’t broken through they had taken quite a spill. He put away the medical tricorder and gave the student another shot of painkiller via hypospray and patted the young woman’s shoulder, saying, “It’ll be okay, just keep weight off of it for a day, make your classmates get you lunch and that sort of thing.”

The fifty academy students were conducting studies of the area. Mostly science students it was a chance to be on a new world and get out in a real environment and not just  a holo-simulation. The trouble is falls happened, and the young woman had taken a tumble off a small cliff and landed on her leg awkwardly. A handful of mostly junior officers were there to supervise, along with the two senior Academy instructors. 

“You’re good with younger people,” observed Academy instructor Doctor Michelle Mueller once the woman had walked off with the help of two classmates who were supporting her weight. She said, “Bedside manner was never my specialty. I had a Vulcan doctor, well Doctor Va’Tok, who was much better than I was with people.”

Elordi nodded, “Well I read your paper on Andorran flu after you first came aboard. You’re a pretty good writer, it’s obvious you care about patients.”

“Now I get to play the harass to Doctor McCleod’s jovial everyman,” Mueller observed, not better but just matter of factly. It was nothing to be angry at, or ashamed of, it was simply the roles they’d fallen into after years of serving together. It didn’t mean that she did not care, or did not feel anything when she lost patients. She’d overseen dozens of disaster relief mission, and seen thousands of dead. Eventually she’d had enough, thus when her ship was decommissioned she found this job helping the next generation of students.

“Va’Tok was good, had a nice sense of humour, even if he denied it,” Elordi said. He gathered up the contents of the small medical kit that he’d unpacked and headed towards his tent. With no intelligent life on the continent there was little worry about being spotted. What animals there were were small mammals similar to Earth rabbits, and a kind of lizard that hunted them. 

Mueller walked with him back to his tent, “I’m sorry you had to find him like that, stabbed to death. Or nearly dead, I read your medical report there was nothing you could have done. You saved your captain, that in itself was a near miracle.”

The doctor nodded, despite the differing levels of experience and rank between the two of them they  both knew the pain of losing someone on the operating table. They both knew about putting aside your feelings for someone as you rushed to save their lives. Va’Tok had been her Assistant Chief and his Chief Medical Officer. He’d been Vulcan, and still despite being older than either of them he was finding out who he was after his transition to being a male.

The interior of Elordi’s tent was spartan, a cot with a few shelves of basic medical supplies. He filed the kit that he had used back on the shelf, filling in an empty space. 

“So what’s teacher life like?” Elordi wanted to change up the conversation and get them away from talking about their murdered friend. 

“I am enjoying it for now,” Mueller mused, “A nice change from the stress of being a doctor. But I do find I miss the stress, if not the sick patients.”

Elordi nodded, “An action junkie, at least in the operating room.”

“As you rank up you don’t get to operate much anymore,” Mueller said, “but yes.”

Across the small compound that the cadets had built using their tents Cadet Sol lowered fellow cadet Jura Ibile to the cot. The Vulcan student had taken on the other woman’s full weight and helped ferry her to a resting position. Sol shook her head disapprovingly, “You should not let your romantic interest in Cadet Gakor lead you to taking risks such as that.”

Ibile shook her head, “I have no interest in Gakor, we’re just friends.”

The Vulcan was not convinced, “Your skin tone grows more flushed when he is around, you speak eight percent faster and your judgement is questionable at best.”

“Just friends,” Ibile reiterated.

“Than your judgement is questionable at all times,” Sol said.

“How about you and Cadet Ravaonirina?” Ibile said, pointing her index finger at the Vulcan.

“Cadet Ravaonirina has not indicated that he is interested in a romantic relationship,” Sol said, “I have also not hobbled myself trying to show off for him.”

“I have not hobbled myself,” Ibile said.

“You fell down a perfectly normal hill thinking he was watching you,” Sol pointed out, “You are lucky this is just a training assignment. On a real deployment I would have likely had to leave you to die.”

They both knew that this was unlikely to be true, but the Vulcan was never going to admit to being illogical or telling a fib. 

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for space,” Ibile said.

“I have observed hills on Earth as well,” Sol pointed out, “And if I can live in a dormitory with humans and trills, you can live on a mostly human starship.”

“You won’t let me quit?” Ibile said to her friend.

The Vulcan nodded, “You are not going to quit, because then you wouldn’t be able to be my first officer.”

“That’s years away,” she protested.

“Vulcans plan for years away, now rest, or I will forward your personal logs to Cadet Gakor,” Sol threatened. They both knew it was an idle threat, but Ibile nodded and set her head on the pillow and tried to relax.