They were lucky so many of the new crew were able to cross-train in emergency medicine, otherwise missions like this would be nearly impossible. Taking a three-person triage team on a shuttle was an expected possibility for a starship’s medical department, but with a barely-crewed vessel on a last-minute mission, Dr. Sitara Bellwether was just happy that there would be a couple of warm bodies minding the store while she was not aboard.

In fact, she was even somewhat fond of the crewman who would be holding sickbay in the absence of her, her surgeon and their head nurse. Another nurse would stay behind but another doctor wouldn’t be aboard until Mount Shasta returned to base — whenever that would be. 

The pair of petty officers who would be manning sickbay during the Correolan away mission were rather charming, Sitara thought. A chummy couple of fresh-faced Humans from the security department, recommended personally by Lt. Brod. They were both handsome, young of course, and seemed to have a playful, brotherly repartee. Goofy might be the right word. Good to have around, at least. Decent bedside manner. And after all, when it comes to common illnesses, bruises, contusions and the like, the computer could more or less talk a child through the process.

If these boys work out, she thought, I’ll have to send Prek a gift. Maybe I can convince hydroponics to set aside some space for a few of those very fine Tellarite vegetables. Then: Do we even have anyone assigned to hydroponics?

The lights were low inside the little bay assigned to hydroponics. She made an involuntary noise when the doors pulled open, something between a gasp and the word “oh.”

A silhouetted figure stood hunched over a little palette of sad-looking orchids that seemed to make up the entire contents of the room. The shadow spun around as the ambient light from the corridor flooded in.

“Computer,” the figure said, “lights.”

The room illuminated and Sitara stepped through the doorway.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”

The man standing over the flowers was tall, slender, with dark eyes and a neatly trimmed mustache.

“No, no,” he protested. “No bother at all. I just– I was running some drills in the holodeck and just needed to—” he gestured vaguely around.

“Get some fresh air?” Sitara offered with some light behind her eyes.

The man chuckled. “Something like that.”

She took two steps forward and stuck out her hand. “Doctor Sitara—”

“Bellwether,” he said, taking her hand. 

Then, realizing he might need to explain how he knew a stranger’s name, he continued. “I read up on all the department heads.” His tone remained apologetic, which Sitara found entertaining. “And,” he continued, “you were in the briefing with Captain Ralin this morning.”

Oh, damn it, she thought. I didn’t even recognize him.

But he wasn’t telling the full truth. He knew her face well long before the briefing. He had a handful of leave days before his posting to the Mount Shasta, which he filled with painting portraits of the senior staff based on their dossier. He had recognized the doctor’s face so quickly because hers was the one he lavished the most attention on. Standing before her, he felt certain he’d never have the confidence to show the paintings to anyone on the crew.

“Good to meet you, Ensign…”

“Del,” he said. “Roosevelt. Uh. Del Roosevelt. Ensign Del Roosevelt.”

She smiled at his flustered nature. “Well,” she said, releasing his hand, “I came down the hall to see what our hydroponics bay looked like and…”

“It doesn’t look like much.”

“No it doesn’t.”

He put his hands on his hips in the stance of a farmer surveying a fallow field. “I know sciences will use it occasionally, but…”

“But there ought to be something … nice. Something for the crew to enjoy.”

He smiled. “Right. I’d ask the Captain about it, setting up a volunteer chore schedule or something, but.” He stopped, never intending to finish the sentence.

But he wasn’t going to get away that easy. “But what?”

“Well, we’re all new here. And, I don’t know.”

She widened her eyes, encouraging him to elaborate.

“And I’m not sure if that’s worth bringing up, I guess. I mean, the captain came fro the Merchant Marine. I’m not sure if she,” he searched for a word “likes all that Starfleet stuff.”

Sitara maintained her wide-eyed look.

“Enrichment stuff. It feels like they don’t do that in the Merchant fleet. You know, probably not a lot of string quartets on downtime. And I know it’s irrational, but I always get nervous around Betazoids.” He suddenly looked as if he’d heard himself say a slur. “I mean–”

Sitara broke her silence to laugh. “It’s alright, Ensign. I get what you mean.”

He relaxed.

‘But,” she said, “I don’t think you need to worry about the captain.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I bet she’d be extra-amenable to your idea if you offered to grow Antarian moon blossoms.”

A barely contained look of quiet horror spread over Del’s face. “You already know the captain.”

She laughed. “Shared a flat in London for two years.”

The horror was now metastasizing into simple embarrassment. “You were–”

“Roommates, Ensign.”

He could not contain his sigh. “Roommates,” he reiterated, mostly to himself. “Right. Roommates.”

“Roommates,’ she repeated, teasing him.

“I’m so sorry, Lieutenant, I—”

“Don’t worry about,” she said with a smile. “It’s fine. We’ve been good friends since her days in the Merchant Service, when I was finishing my medical degree.”

The sinking feeling of an awkward social encounter wasn’t foreign to Del. While those who only knew him partially tended to assume he was socially dexterous — he was, after all, handsome, caring, and both an ace pilot and an accomplished musician — but he was more often than not tongue-tied and flat-footed when talking to people. Especially new people, and especially ones with space-black hair and big eyes nearly as dark.

“Right,” he said again. “Well–” His communicator activated.

“Ganbold to Roosevelt.”

Oh, thank God, he thought.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Sorry to bother you, Ensign, but Commander Bush and Chief Skell need you down in Engineering when you can. They want to show you the new toy you’ll be hauling.”

He glanced at Sitara, already apologizing with his eyes.

“I’ll be right there, sir.”

Sitara smiled again. “Well, Ensign,” she said playfully, “you’d better see to that toy.”

He grinned. “ Right.” He paused. “Yes. commander, I mean.” He began walking to the corridor without looking away from Sitara. “Okay, then. Thank you, sir. I mean–”

“See you on the shuttle, Ensign Roosevelt.”

Just before the doors slid shut, as he awkwardly raised a hand to say goodbye, a look of realization flashed over his eyes. That’s right. The triage team.

Standing alone in the empty room, she allowed herself a long, hearty laugh before signaling the computer to resume the reduced lighting. She stood in the dark room for a few moments, thinking, before she went back to sickbay.