Chapter Text
When Kaveh joined Starfleet Academy, he’d gone with hope.
It was where the brightest minds and most adventurous hearts went, all of them reaching for the stars and the infinite possibilities they offered.
At the time of his enrollment Kaveh had hoped this would make his mother proud. She hadn’t smiled since his father’s death, but surely if he excelled here that would change? Surely, if he graduated at the top of his class, his mother would finally look at him with something other than pain? It was a pipe dream in every way. Starfleet was home to geniuses, and no matter how his teachers praised his work, Kaveh saw reality. He was young, he wasn’t a genius, he was just one human teenager in a sea of hopefuls, and his only real talent was clinging on where most of his class burned out and dropped their courses.
He did not graduate at the top.
His mother did not come to his graduation.
He called her afterward, diploma clutched in one hand, communicator in the other, and wore a plastic smile as she told him she was moving to a whole other planet to marry a man he had never met.
“I wish you all the luck in the galaxy,” he said with false enthusiasm. “Don’t worry about me at all. I have everything under control. You just have a wonderful time at your wedding.”
The wedding he had not been invited to.
When the call ended he trudged back into the near-empty Academy, went to the bridge simulator where countless students had failed the Kobayashi Maru exercise, sat in the operations officer’s seat, and turned on the screen. It lit up with a view of deep space—complete darkness struck with stars—and Kaveh watched it as if looking through a window.
At least out there, I can’t be any lonelier than I am now, he thought to himself.
It was a depressing thought but it almost made him feel better. He might’ve stayed moping before the display for most of the night if his horrible Vulcan ex-roommate hadn’t come barging in to call him “illogical” before dragging him back outside. Bastard.
Alhaitham had been a constant cerebral thorn in his side from day one.
When first year Kaveh found out he was going to have an alien roommate he’d been thrilled. And a Vulcan on top of that? He’d heard so many stories about how carelessly badass Vulcans were, and their scientific breakthroughs. He felt like he was going to be living with a celebrity. What he’d gotten was a recalcitrant bookworm who was only interested in Starfleet because he hoped it would eventually land him a cushy well-paying desk job. Kaveh couldn’t really blame him for that, and tried his best to get along with him. They were inseparable for three of their years at the academy, but then they had a dreadful falling out.
Vulcans, you see, prided themselves on logic. Emotions clouded logic, so were deemed useless and not just ignored but scorned. Vulcans did not lie, they were atrociously blunt, and these were all things that compounded into why humans respected Vulcans but on a personal level tended to hate their guts.
Kaveh had brushed all of this off as some of Alhaitham’s charms, but halfway through their fourth year these things were turned on him. Things Alhaitham had harped on before became more intense, like Kaveh’s tendency to help underclassmen study (“They’re bringing you down by stealing time you need to study for your own exams. Tell them to go to the professor, she has office hours for a reason.”), or helping out people by lending them pens or money to cover a bar tab (“You don’t have anything to give away. Think about your position in life for once.”) and his fawning over his mother (“Why bother with someone who clearly doesn’t care about you?”). Alhaitham was especially annoyed by that last one. Kaveh had once tried to defend himself by saying, Humans are pack animals, it’s our nature to support each other, and Alhaitham had shot back, Are you blaming your species for your own bad choices? Which stung, but Kaveh did his best to grapple with it as he’d grappled with all of the brusqueness of the years before.
The point of no return was a disagreement over a fellow student’s love life: there had been arguments, lies, cheating, breakups, and getting back together. Kaveh had gossiped about it because the whole Academy was gossiping about it, and Alhaitham showed no sympathy for the woman who’d been cheated on. He argued that the boyfriend had lied and cheated repeatedly and she kept forgiving him and taking him back, so she knew what she was getting into and deserved any suffering she got out of it, and the boyfriend didn't love her at all.
Kaveh, who’d quietly been carrying a torch for the man who criticized him and hurt his feelings over and over, had taken that personally.
So.
They fought.
It culminated in Kaveh calling him an unfeeling jerk and filing for a change of rooms. From then on if they crossed paths they only spoke in sharp jabs. There were way more of those than Kaveh wanted, because Alhaitham wouldn’t stop showing up. Wasn’t he the bookworm? Shouldn’t he have found peace in his stupid comfy chair and his stupidly intellectual books and left Kaveh alone? Why was he everywhere?
Even when Kaveh graduated and was assigned to a starship, he was barely out of spacedock before realizing Alhaitham had selected the same damned ship on the same damned five-year mission.
So here he was another three years later, with Alhaitham still mucking up his life.
“Engineer Kaveh will remain on board,” said Alhaitham now, face blank and voice deadpan.
“I’ll what,” Kaveh instinctively snapped, and immediately flushed with embarrassment. He snapped at Alhaitham a lot, but he’d never done it on the ship’s bridge before.
Thankfully the command crew didn’t seem to care all that much. Chief of Security Cyno stood at complete ease, Navigator Nilou and Helmsman Dehya may have smiled but they were more invested in guiding the U.S.S. Sumeru into dry dock, and their much-older-than-she-looked Captain Nahida looked only curious.
“Are you sure, Kaveh?” she asked. “This is almost two weeks of shore leave.”
Kaveh opened his mouth to reply but Alhaitham interrupted, “He was out during our last shore leave, whereas Lieutenant Faruzan hasn’t left the ship in years. There are several health benefits to vacations including improved mental and physical health, but she will not leave the Sumeru in what she deems incapable hands. I have determined that Engineer Kaveh is the only one deemed capable in her mind.”
“We all know that’s not true,” said Kaveh.
“She has given me a list,” said Alhaitham. “Yours is the only name on it.”
Madam Faruzan was notoriously picky so this was the highest of compliments, but Kaveh still felt torn. It wasn’t like he’d made any plans for shore leave, but the idea of Alhaitham volunteering him to stay rankled. But Madam Faruzan did deserve a break…
“I’ll talk to her about it,” he grumbled.
The spacedock was massive: a great technological orb with rings leading out to impressive biospheres. Even from here they could glimpse the snows and pines of one of them, with the U.S.S. Snezhnaya docked alongside it. The Sumeru made for the innermost ring, and as it did Nahida pressed a button on the arm of her chair. This let her voice echo from the overhead speakers all across the ship: “Hello everyone, this is your captain speaking. We are almost docked, which means that those crewmembers who have been approved for shore leave can begin their departures within the hour. Please bvisit the teleportation room in your assigned groups when they are called to ensure everyone disembarks quickly and safely. If you will be departing for shore leave, make sure that your rooms are tidy for inspections. For those who will be staying aboard, please assist the incoming maintenance team to the best of your ability.”
“I’ll start checking on the crew myself,” said Cyno. “To a-leave-iate any stress.”
Nilou forced a smile, Dehya groaned, and Communications Officer Wanderer outright scowled.
“Get it?” Cyno said flatly. “A-leave-iate? Shore leave?”
“Don’t worry everyone, I’ll escort him out,” said Kaveh, catching Cyno by the shoulders and steering him toward the turbolift. “Don’t mind us.”
“Thank you, both of you,” said Captain Nahida, a hand over her mouth to badly hide a smile. “With you on the job, I can leave my worries behind.”
This sparked even louder groans, and Wanderer snapped, “Don’t sink to his level—”
Thankfully the turbolift doors closed behind them at this moment.
“Medical bay,” Kaveh sighed.
The turbolift pinged and opened its doors again to the hallway in front of the medical bay. Chief Medical Officer Tighnari and Nurse Collei were the only ones inside, finishing up some readouts for the maintenance team.
“You look rather down. Did something happen to your leave request?” said Tighnari, looking up from the data racing across the displays.
“Alhaitham has sabotaged me again,” said Kaveh.
“Sure he did,” said Tighnari, and looked at Cyno instead. “What really happened?”
“I suppose it applies this time. Alhaitham suggested that Kaveh staying aboard might convince Madam Faruzan to take her first break in ten years,” said Cyno.
“What do you mean, applies this time? It applies every time! Alhaitham hates me,” said Kaveh. “I mean, remember when—”
“—When you got into a drinking contest with a Klingon and Alhaitham had to rescue you before you drunkenly offended them?” Tighnari said dryly.
“Hey, the Klingons respect me now and the bloodwine wasn’t that bad—”
“Or perhaps the time when you were both on an away team and Alhaitham bodily tackled you out of the way of gunfire, because it turned out the planet was populated by people who thought blonds were the devil incarnate?” said Cyno.
“You should’ve seen my bruises! And it wouldn’t have gotten to that at all if Wanderer had done some more research on where we were going and I didn’t keep getting picked for away teams I have no business being in!” said Kaveh.
“Or, um, the time he defended you against those bullies from the Fontaine?” said Collei, nervous to be speaking up in a conversation of her seniors no matter how well acquainted they were.
Kaveh scowled. “He told me afterward to shape up and stop making the Sumeru look bad.”
Collei winced and returned to her data.
“I’m telling you, he hates me,” Kaveh insisted.
“Yes, Alhaitham, who dislikes work and doesn’t want to deal with anyone, and who keeps getting into nonsense because you were in that nonsense first. He totally hates you,” said Tighnari.
“That’s not funny,” said Kaveh.
“It’s a little funny,” said Cyno.
A chime came from overhead, and Captain Nahida’s voice echoed: “We are now docked. Departure group A-1, please report to the transporter room.”
“We need to get ready,” said Tighnari. “Collei, have you packed your bag?”
“I did!” she replied. “Did you bring the equipment out of storage?”
In response, Tighnari hauled a giant greenish bag into view.
“Is that a tent?” said Kaveh.
“We’re all going camping in the forest biosphere,” said Tighnari. “We’ll be meeting up with a few members from the Liyue and Mondstadt, too.”
“Enough people to have a card game tournament by the campfire,” said Cyno.
“We’d have invited you too, but you didn’t seem to enjoy camping the last time I brought you along,” said Tighnari.
“I’ll admit that I didn’t appreciate the rocks digging into my back at night, or the fact that I had to shit in a hole,” said Kaveh.
Tighnari shrugged. “To each their own. Try not to get into any trouble while we’re gone, and we’ll see if we can bring back a wine bottle or two for you.”
“You’re an angel,” said Kaveh. “Enjoy your shore leave.”
He went back to the turbolift and let it bring him to the main engineering room. Most of the workers were clearing out fast, whispering excitedly to each other about what they’d be doing on their break. The only one unmoving was Madam Faruzan, who was looking through the readings on the injector coils. While she looked human she was actually El-Aurien, and at four hundred years old she was fighting Nahida and Wanderer for longest lifespan on the ship. Unlike the other two, though, she never let anyone forget it.
“Lieutenant Faruzan,” said an ensign, coming up to her.
“Oh? I think I heard the wind,” said Faruzan. “I’m so old, it’s easy for my ears to miss things. Perhaps if I were called the right way I might notice?”
“Madam Faruzan,” the ensign corrected in a long-suffering voice. “I’m supposed to tell you that you’ve been assigned to departure group D-26.”
“Nonsense! I’m not going anywhere,” said Faruzan.
“There’s been a change of plans,” said Kaveh, hurrying over to them. “The captain and Alhaitham are worried about your wellbeing, so—”
“There’s no need for them to meddle, I’m just fine where I am,” said Faruzan.
“But it’s been literal years—"
“Which are really nothing in my lifetime compared to the fraction it takes in yours. No, no, staying here isn’t that bad. There are no lines for anything, no people shouting, it’s just me and the gentle thrum of the warp core,” said Faruzan.
Kaveh was not convinced. “Alright, well, I’m staying, so if it was a matter of not trusting anyone unsupervised with the warp core—”
“You are?” She perked up immediately. “Well, why didn’t you say so? I need to pack!”
“You changed your mind quickly…”
“But of course! Did you think I would leave my precious warp core with babes barely out of their diapers? No!”
The ensign looked offended. Kaveh waved his hand at them and tried to project It’s not you she’s always like this, as Faruzan closed out of all the windows she had open. She put her diagnostics tablet in Kaveh’s hands and said, “I have faith in you, youngster! See you later!” and raced off.
As the hours wore on the crew dwindled more and more, until the 1,271 regular inhabitants of the crew had been reduced to thirty. This not-even-a-skeleton crew only remained for emergencies and to guide the maintenance team. Kaveh stayed in the engineering room until a maintenance representative arrived, gave a quick tour of the controls, and only then left with the promise that his communicator would be on at all times if they needed to reference anything.
The Sumeru was very quiet.
This was no surprise—space was normally silent, and the ship’s energy efficiency meant it all ran quietly—but there were no voices in the hall, no vacuum-slide of doors, no chiming of announcements, or ambient sounds of work.
It all felt dreadfully lonely.
On the second full day of shore leave Kaveh boarded the turbolift with intentions of going to the recreation room on deck five. He was pretty sure there was a deck of cards there to either play solitaire or try playing against the computer (never satisfying), and at the very least he could try to synthesize some wine. It was sad, yes, but better than languishing in his bunk.
DESTINATION: RECREATION ROOM THREE, said the computer, and the turbolift doors opened to show Alhaitham. Kaveh grabbed the handle and said, “Engineering Room!” with the hope it would take him literally anywhere but here, but Alhaitham stepped in before the doors could fully close.
“I have been looking for you,” said Alhaitham.
“Of course you were. What do you want?” said Kaveh.
“As first officer it is my duty to ensure a safe and efficient management of the crew. In order to do so I must understand the crew and the ways best to streamline them. It has come to my attention that as a Vulcan I… do not grasp their myriad emotions.”
“No kidding,” Kaveh grumbled.
“All these emotions are illogical,” said Alhaitham, “but it is undeniable that they hold significant sway over crew morale and decision making. These are key in management. During shore leave I intend to study the crew to better supervise them in the future.”
“It’s hard to study people who are blatantly missing from the ship right now,” said Kaveh. “Anyway, why are you telling all of this to me?”
“To ensure my research is effective I will need an assistant to advise or explain heretofore inexplicable nuances. For this particular mission that will require someone already capable of them, and you have a lot of emotions.”
“I do not!” said Kaveh.
“You are human. You are full of emotions,” said Alhaitham.
“Don’t play games with me, you lunatic. I know you’re capable of emotions, Vulcans just decide they don’t want to deal with them!”
“Regardless.”
Kaveh pursed his lips. Despite the attitude, this was technically a win for him in the argument. Besides, what else did he have to do when everyone else was gone?
“Fine,” he said stiffly. “If you’re recruiting me because you recognize my emotional maturity, then I suppose I’ll keep you from interfering with the crew too badly. What were you even planning to do?”
In response, Alhaitham took a tablet out from under his arm and held it out. “I confiscated this from Ensign Layla during room inspection.”
“Of course you did.” Kaveh took it and squinted at the display. “…Sumeru Bingo? What is this?”
“An activity quietly but frequently undertaken by crewmembers,” said Alhaitham.
Kaveh looked down the list. “Phaser stun duel, gravity boot hang challenge, unsanctioned spacewalk— Why hasn’t anyone told me about this? Unless… Oh, no, I feel so old! Is it because I’m higher rank?”
“The only reason you aren’t in full command of the engineering crew is because Madam Faruzan has lived more years to gain more experience,” said Alhaitham.
“Not good enough for command and not good enough to be included with the crew, what else is new?” Kaveh muttered. “What exactly are you looking to do with this? Set up ambush points to catch them before they follow through on the stupidity?”
“I intend to complete it,” said Alhaitham.
Kaveh did a double take. “Excuse me, I must have heard that wrong. You want to play phaser chicken with someone?”
“And do an unsanctioned spacewalk,” said Alhaitham, nodding at the tablet.
“Are you sick? Do I need to track down Tighnari?” said Kaveh.
“This is an experiment,” said Alhaitham. “I will put myself in the position of the crewmembers, and by following their lead on something they feel such enthusiasm for, I may be able to better understand their minds.”
Kaveh didn’t believe this for a moment. For many years Alhaitham regarded emotions as strange, annoying, and not worth his time; he didn’t even like being first officer, and had attempted to weasel his way out of the position multiple times before. He couldn’t be using a sudden work ethic as a real excuse.
Wait.
Nahida put him up to this, didn’t she?
Captain Nahida was in the sneaky, wholesome habit of gently questioning someone’s worldview, supporting them in expanding their horizons, and being sweetly and genuinely proud of their development in a way that would’ve been condescending with any other captain but from her gave people fuzzy warm feelings. She must’ve latched onto Alhaitham as her newest target.
Well, Kaveh couldn’t disregard his captain’s wishes, could he? And her efforts couldn’t possibly make Alhaitham any more insufferable than he already was.
“You know what? Fine. I’ll do it,” said Kaveh. “I’ll show those ensigns I’m cool! Totally cool!”
TASK 1: USE THE TRANSPORTER TO REFLAVOR GUM
“Chief Candace is still on duty in the main transporter room,” said Alhaitham. “I’ve ensured she will be sufficiently distracted, so she will see no sign of our transporter activity here.”
“How’d you manage that?” said Kaveh.
“I’ve assigned Ensign Dori to assist her in maintenance work as disciplinary action,” said Alhaitham.
Kaveh shuddered. Dori was a conniving little terror and he didn’t want to know what she’d done this time. Maintenance would be the perfect opportunity to notice any fluctuation in transporter activity, but if Dori was involved Candace would likely have no time to watch their status at all.
“We should still hurry,” said Kaveh, popping a stick of gum into his mouth.
“Agreed,” said Alhaitham, and the door to the medical bay slid open before them.
It was common knowledge that there was a chair here in the back of the medical bay that doubled as a transportation landing pad. This tended only to be used in emergencies. Kaveh went and sat in it, chewing quickly, while Alhaitham went to the nearby control panel.
“Okay, flavor’s gone,” Kaveh said after a few minutes.
“Roger that. Energizing,” said Alhaitham.
The transporter hummed and Kaveh faded out of existence with a yellowish glow. Not a minute later it hummed again and he reappeared.
“Flavor check,” said Alhaitham.
Kaveh chewed thoughtfully. “You know what, it worked! Spearmint.”
Alhaitham nodded decisively and marked it off the list.
TASK 2: PHASER STUN DUEL
The two of them stood alone in one of the bright hallways, facing each other from several paces away like cowboys in an old western movie. Kaveh used his thumb to pop open the holster on his thigh, not daring to take his eyes off his opponent.
“We’ll keep it at the lowest setting,” said Alhaitham, adjusting the settings on his phaser, and Kaveh did the same.
“Ready,” said Kaveh.
“Good. Aim,” said Alhaitham.
They both raised their phasers.
“Go,” said Alhaitham.
They both pulled the trigger.
Alhaitham’s blast went wide, which made no sense because he was an expert shot. Kaveh didn’t even have time to realize he missed on purpose before his own phaser blast caught Alhaitham in the shoulder. Alhaitham stumbled, one hand flying up to the impact point.
“Oh, shit!” cried Kaveh, running over to him. “Are you hurt? Why does anyone shoot each other with phasers, I don’t care if they’re only on stun! Here. Shoot me back. We’ll make it even.”
Alhaitham gave a pained grunt. “Absolutely not.”
“I’m serious! We can’t just have one of us stunned and not the other! That goes against the rules of the bingo!” said Kaveh.
“That’s ridiculous. The list only specifies a duel, and a duel was completed,” said Alhaitham. “There is no requirement that both parties must sustain damage.”
“Damage?” Kaveh said shrilly. “Let’s get you back to med bay—”
“Kaveh. Vulcans do not lie. I am fine,” said Alhaitham.
Kaveh put his hands on his hips, skeptical. “You’re saying that didn’t hurt at all?”
“It… stung,” Alhaitham admitted. “The sensation was momentary. If you wish to make it up to me, then we can move on to the next item of the list.”
TASK 3: TURBOLIFT TWO FLOOR SHOUT CHALLENGE
This time they were in the turbolift, pressed against opposite sides of the small area. Kaveh counted down from three, and they both seized a handle as fast as they could and shouted their destinations.
“Bridge!”
“Engineering!”
DESTINATION: ENGINEERING, said the computer.
“Damn it!” cried Kaveh, and pointed a furious finger at Alhaitham’s smirk. “That was just luck! Two out of three!”
TASK 4: SET THE UNIVERSAL TRANSLATOR TO ANDORIAN
For this they visited the bridge, which was thankfully empty.
Wanderer was of course usually in charge of this sort of thing, so they went to his post to enter the change. The universal translator was set specifically to Andorian for about thirty seconds before it was manually switched back to previous settings. One of the maintenance team members had clearly caught it.
“Technically the change was made. It counts,” said Alhaitham.
“Yeah,” said Kaveh. “It totally counts.” They stood there in silence a moment before he suggested, “We should really get out of here before the maintenance workers come up to investigate.”
TASK 5: GRAVITY BOOT HANG CHALLENGE
“Computer, prepare to disengage gravity at my command,” said Alhaitham.
ACKNOWLEDGED, said the computer.
“Okay, go time,” Kaveh said in a shaky voice, and finished the last strap on his gravity boots.
“We start on three. One, two…”
On three they walked to the walls of the sealed airlock they’d climbed inside, strode vertically up those walls, and then straight onto the ceiling. The gravity boots allowed this as easily as if they’d been walking on flat ground, but the blood still rushed to Kaveh’s head. It was extremely disconcerting.
To make matters worse, at one time in the Academy Kaveh had researched the effects of being held upside down for an extended period of time. An upperclassman had (falsely) claimed that there was an alien species that held people upside down as a greeting or a torture technique (the story had varied), and Kaveh had wanted to be prepared. He had not anticipated that being upside down for too long could be lethal. Humans were specifically built to be one way up, after all! He couldn’t remember how many minutes could cause damage. He could feel the blood pooling in his head, even Alhaitham’s face was looking green, and at two minutes he called it off.
“That’s it, I’m done, you win! I’m getting down!”
“Computer, disengage gravity,” said Alhaitham.
Immediately the pull vanished, but Kaveh still deactivated the boots and righted himself in zero gravity. “That was horrible! Why is that on the list?”
“That’s one of the questions I want answered,” said Alhaitham, and checked that off too.
TASK 6: MEDICAL TRICORDER CHALLENGE: VULCAN MARSUPIAL
This one Kaveh felt guilty about.
He picked up Tighnari’s medical tricorder and changed the settings so that instead of reading human or other standard crew biology, it would assume anything being scanned was a Vulcan marsupial. The mitochondrial scan for anything else would be read as dramatically out of balance. To ensure this wouldn’t cause any real medical emergency, Kaveh programmed a frowny face display to appear on the tricorder when powering up, so Tighnari would immediately know it had been tampered with.
“What even is a Vulcan marsupial?” Kaveh asked as they left the med bay again.
“They are large and hairy, and like to kick things,” said Alhaitham.
“Oh, so like a kangaroo on Earth,” said Kaveh.
“Vulcan marsupials have considerably more teeth,” said Alhaitham, and otherwise refused to elaborate.
TASK 7: FOOD REPLICATOR CHALLENGE: DURIAN FRUIT
All replicators had safety protocols installed, making it impossible to synthesize anything hazardous. Of course, “hazardous” was a rather vague term when the starship carried such a wide range of species as crew with such different dietary needs. In essence, it was a matter of debate with the safety system about whether the food you were trying to synthesize was dangerous or not. Alhaitham argued with it for almost thirty solid minutes, during which Kaveh learned that a durian was 1) nicknamed “the king of fruits,” 2) one of the most nutritional fruits grown on Earth, and 3) had a scent that some people found very pleasant, meaning the “danger” of its existence was personal interpretation rather than fact.
“So it’s the smell that’s the problem?” Kaveh wondered as the replicator hummed. Alhaitham shot him a glare and he threw up his hands in surrender. “Supposedly a problem, sorry. I’ve never eaten a durian fruit and frankly I’m curious why it’s difficult enough to source to be on the bingo list.”
“I have never eaten a durian fruit either,” said Alhaitham.
The reason became clear as soon as the cut, spiky fruit appeared before them.
It smelled.
It was something like a backed-up latrine that hadn’t been cleaned in months and used instead to stew rotted onions, unbearably pungent and getting worse the longer it existed.
“What in hell is that?” Kaveh cried, leaping out of his seat and trying to cover his nose. “There’s no way an Earth fruit smells like that!”
Alhaitham’s eyes were watering. “It does. Durian fruit has been banned on public transportation in multiple countries.”
“You couldn’t have warned me before you synthesized it?” said Kaveh.
“I was not aware it would be this bad,” said Alhaitham.
Their salvation arrived in the form of Ensign Layla, not that she seemed to notice. She was sleepwalking again. She beelined for them with her eyes closed, picked up the fruit, and ate it. They watched in horrified silence as she disposed of the husk and seeds, and sleepwalked her way right back out.
The smell lingered.
TASK 8: SNEAK A TRIBBLE INTO THE TRANSPORTER BUFFER
“Where did you even get a tribble?”
“Not important,” said Alhaitham.
TASK 9: SIT IN THE CAPTAIN’S CHAIR
“I really shouldn’t,” said Kaveh, one hand on his face as he looked down at the captain’s seat on the empty bridge.
“It’s a chair,” said Alhaitham.
“Yes, but it’s Captain Nahida’s chair!”
“One’s position in Starfleet does not change a chair from being a chair,” said Alhaitham. “There are no defense protocols if someone other than Captain Nahida sits down.”
“It’s not about physical danger, it’s about respect,” said Kaveh.
Alhaitham sat in the chair and looked up at him, unimpressed.
“Well, you’re the first officer, you’re allowed to take command if the captain isn’t here! That’s different!” said Kaveh.
“It’s a chair,” Alhaitham insisted.
“But—”
“Will it make you feel better if we both sit in it at the same time?”
“It’s not big enough for that,” said Kaveh.
“It could be if we squeeze,” said Alhaitham. “It was originally meant for Captain Rukkhadevata, who was much larger than Nahida.”
Kaveh weighed his options.
“Fine. For the bingo,” he grumbled, and squeezed in next to Alhaitham.
“Well? Your opinion?” said Alhaitham, once he’d settled.
“Uncomfortable,” said Kaveh. “But I suppose it really is a chair. What was that noise? Did I press a button on the armrest? Tell me I didn’t press a button—"
TASK 10: EV SUIT CHALLENGE: UNSANCTIONED SPACEWALK
“Okay, but I’ve been on multiple sanctioned spacewalks before, so really this is kind of boring,” said Kaveh.
FINAL TASK: SIGN THE SCORCH
Technically this could’ve been bundled with task ten, but Kaveh had gone into this with the intention of being cool, so he was going to be cool.
“I am confident that no one else has signed the scorch this way before,” said Alhaitham, completely calm when any other person would’ve been in a state of utter panic. They were, after all, outside in space and walking along the Sumeru’s hull with no EV suits, or even oxygen tanks.
“The others probably weren’t so certain that the forcefield would hold,” said Kaveh, very pleased with himself. He reached one hand above his head; when his fingers made contact with the forcefield it flickered blue and danced like an aurora before fading back to invisibility. “We’re docked, so the likelihood of someone coming in and shooting down our shields is practically nil. The forcefield holds a sustainable atmosphere so we could picnic out here if we wanted.”
“Starfleet will likely not condone such activity, but it is noted,” said Alhaitham.
Kaveh craned his neck to look at the dock lights and biospheres behind them. “Do you think anyone can see us out here?”
“Not unless they are specifically looking,” said Alhaitham.
“If they are, I suppose that just means we’ll have proof for one hell of a story,” said Kaveh.
The “scorch” was the oldest unreplaced piece of the Sumeru’s hull. They found it near the very tip of the bow: a large, squared section of plating darker than the rest. It had been marked with twenty-seven names, and Kaveh grinned when he recognized a few.
“Well, what do you know? Ensign Layla beat us to it.”
“It is supposedly good luck to sign it,” said Alhaitham, and held out a thick silver marker.
Kaveh signed his name before handing it back, and Alhaitham did the same. They remained knelt by the scorch for a while, marveling at the ridiculousness of their actions and the view around them.
“Did you have fun?” asked Alhaitham.
Kaveh raised a brow. “Is this a survey now? Completing your research?”
“…Yes,” said Alhaitham.
“Well, I don’t know that I’d call all of this fun,” said Kaveh. “It was dangerous, could cause problems for other members of the crew, and for some were even nonsensical. But breaking the rules does make me feel like a rebel. That’s freeing. I suppose it could give a person some feeling of control when they’re otherwise confined for long stretches of time and subjected to other rules. And if you do it with someone else, that builds comradery. Maybe if you started a program that challenges the crew while giving them choices on how to proceed and the ability to solve problems in pairs this bingo challenge would die down.”
“I see,” Alhaitham said slowly. “If you could do anything else on the ship for fun, in a group or otherwise, what would it be?”
Kaveh pondered a bit. “I suppose tridimensional chess?”
“You played that in the Academy, but I have not observed you continuing it aboard the ship,” said Alhaitham.
Had it really been so long? Kaveh thought about it, and sure enough, the last time he could remember playing was against Jean partway through their fourth year at the Academy.
“I suppose I’ve been busy,” he said.
“You’re always busy,” said Alhaitham.
“What of it?” Kaveh challenged. “I’m on this ship to do a job, you can’t criticize me for being good at it!”
Alhaitham’s brows knit the smallest bit in annoyance and he sighed, “This exercise has been a failure.”
“What?” said Kaveh. “But— I just gave you useful feedback! You can use that to better the crew!”
“The crew was an excuse,” said Alhaitham.
“An excuse to do bingo? Why? None of this strikes me as anything you’d enjoy doing.”
“But I thought there was a possibility that you might.”
Kaveh faltered. “Me?”
“Since our Academy days you seem to be under the impression that I dislike you,” said Alhaitham. “I do not know why.”
“Oh, don’t you?” Kaveh laughed sharply. “You used to tear me down all the time! You told me that my mother doesn’t love me!”
“She doesn’t. That is an objective fact,” said Alhaitham. His eyes narrowed. “You’re going to be angry at me about that, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am!” said Kaveh. “Forget this, I don’t know why I even bothered to accompany you in the first place.”
He stalked back toward the airlock, but froze when Alhaitham snarled, “Why do you seek care from her while rejecting care from me?”
Slowly, Kaveh turned back around. He’d never heard such rage out of a Vulcan, had never seen one bare his teeth and fist his hands. It looked more alien on Alhaitham than the pointed ears or green blood ever had.
“Why am I not permitted to support you?” Alhaitham hissed. “Your mother has never once initiated contact with you, has never acknowledged your success, and has never once acted for your benefit in the time since I’ve met you. She abandoned you, and does not deserve your good intentions. You allow people to use and belittle you on a constant basis and even take their invalid criticisms to heart. This should not stand. I have worried for you and tried to urge you into healthier habits, but all my efforts offend you. Why am I the one you hate when I simply do not wish for you to suffer?”
“What are you talking about?” said Kaveh. “You’re the one who was belittling me!”
“How?” said Alhaitham.
“My mother—”
“Takes from you and never gives. It is an unhealthy relationship and you deserve better.”
Kaveh choked a moment but countered, “You told me it was a waste of time to help others.”
“Assistance is not a crime, but you take it to a level of self-detriment,” said Alhaitham. “You do not enforce your boundaries, so while those you help excel, you are left with no time or energy for yourself. It is not sustainable, and it is clear you are unhappy with so little rest. Likewise, you spend all your money on the whims of others, and no one ever covers your expenses in return. It is unequal. Those you are assisting have their own pay from Starfleet. You have worked hard to earn yours and should be allowed to spend it on yourself instead of on ungrateful spendthrifts.”
“Yeah? Then what did you mean about Sareh and Amandeep?” said Kaveh.
“Sareh and— Those fools from the Academy?” said Alhaitham.
“See? There you go again!” said Kaveh. “Going on and calling them fools—"
“Because they were. I fail to see how either of them have anything to do with us at present,” said Alhaitham.
“Because Amandeep hurt her, and when Sareh took him back you said that when he inevitably hurt her again she’d deserve it.”
“He had repeatedly shown his true colors. It takes a minimum of two experiments to prove a theory, and Amandeep proved his nature many times more than that. To repeat identical behavior and expect a different result is famously considered insanity. For Sareh to have forgiven and continued a relationship with him was, indeed, insanity.”
“What was that supposed to mean for me when I was in that same position?”
“What are you talking about?” said Alhaitham, eyes narrowing. “At that time you were not even in the preliminary stages of any courtship—”
“Because I liked you!” cried Kaveh. “Because I was down bad for a man who criticized my every action! Apparently that meant I’m an idiot who deserves to get hurt for the rest of eternity!”
Alhaitham deflated. All the anger that had driven him was gone as fast as it had come. “I apologize. To insult you was never my intention.”
“Well, you did!” Kaveh gave a deranged laugh, brushing some of the hair out of his face with a shaking hand. “I shouldn’t have said that. Forget it. Just—”
“I had romantic feelings toward you too,” Alhaitham said quickly, as if he feared (sensibly) that Kaveh was going to run away. “I still do. That is why I wished to better understand your emotions and what might make you happy.”
“You can’t seriously be telling me you roped me into Sumeru Bingo because you have a crush on me,” said Kaveh.
“Why not?” said Alhaitham.
“Because it’s ridiculous!” said Kaveh. “You can’t really— You can’t—”
“Are you going to call me unfeeling again?” said Alhaitham. “As you stated before, simply because Vulcans choose not to act on their emotions does not mean we are incapable of them. It would be the height of hypocrisy if you denounced my capacity for affection.”
Kaveh covered his eyes with one hand, trying to hold himself together. “This doesn’t make sense.”
Alhaitham cautiously approached; his boots clicked weirdly on the ship’s hull. “I suspect that we have encountered a cultural barrier between our species. So, I would like to propose a Vulcan soul sharing ritual.”
“What is that, like a mind meld?” Kaveh muttered.
“Something like that, yes,” said Alhaitham. “This would allow me to hear your innermost thoughts, and you mine. In doing so you will know my soul, and I yours. I wish for you to understand the depth of my feelings. If that can be done, it may go a long way to repairing our relationship, even if you prefer a friendship over courting—”
“Courting!” Kaveh laughed. Because it was laughable. Wasn’t it?
He lowered his hand. Alhaitham stood before him, shoulders slumped but eyes earnest, and the whole of space and its glittering stars at his back. This didn’t seem real. But wasn’t it the point of Starfleet, to reach for the stars?
He reached out for Alhaitham.
“I’ll try it,” he said quietly. “I missed you.”
Alhaitham accepted his hand like it was something precious and pressed it to his chest, over his heart. “I missed you too.”