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"So you have a time suit that you were using to save all of mankind and you came here?"
"It appears so."
"And now you can't get back to your own universe."
"Not at all--my time or the time I was supposed to lead my ship into. The time crystal is completely burnt out, and the suit won't function without another one."
"Well, Commander, we don't have any time crystals here. So what you've got on your hands is a pretty colossal fuck up."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I don't know how things work where you're from, but here, when you're my age, you get to say whatever the fuck you want. And I like to take full advantage of that. You have a problem, Commander Burnham. You're not where you're supposed to be with some very interesting technology and a shipload of even more interesting technology that's going to show up fuck knows when. Everyone in this solar system is going to want to get their hands on you and it."
"I see." Michael crossed her arms. "Is that a threat, Secretary Avasarala?"
"Oh, no, merely an observation. I see you know a little bit about the game of politics, so you probably know that this is the part where I tell you what the government of Earth can offer you for exclusive access. But let's skip that part."
Michael cocked her head. "I doubt your superiors would sanction that."
"Fuck my superiors." Avasarala poured them both two fingers of a golden liquid that Michael suspected was scotch. "I have very few. Why would you give a damn about helping us? We have nothing to give you in return."
"You have knowledge. Resources." Michael took the offered glass. "Home isn't an option. You know you have the first chance at an alliance, at influencing how we see this universe and its politics."
Avasarala smirked as she took a sip of her drink. "You're very good."
"I'm a xenoanthropologist."
"Saving the universe with a time suit. What a place you must come from, Michael Burnham."
*****
Science Officer's Log XTE ????
There is, as of yet, no sign of Discovery. This universe has not yet attained warp travel, so interstellar travel remains somewhat limited. However, an alien artifact has opened gates to other solar systems, changing the trajectory of the Earth's development in a way that diverges far from our own.
There has been no sign of Control, and while there is much here to occupy me--the politics and interspecies relations of divergent factions of humanity are fascinating--I worry that we did not achieve our goal. Without my crew--
"Another fucking log?"
Michael sighed. "That I'll need to redact now."
"You know, if you want to do busy work, I can arrange for you to spend some time in my office. I'm sure my aides would appreciate your efforts." Chrisjen put her hands on Michael's shoulders. "Or you could come back to bed, make an old woman happy before breakfast."
The log could wait; Michael never knew when she would have time with Chrisjen, especially given the situation at the gate. She placed one of her hands over Chrisjen's, feeling the promise of her long fingers. Finally Michael stood.
Without her dark lipstick, Chrisjen's lips were pink and slightly parted, waiting for Michael's kiss. She tasted like the cup of morning coffee she always took before she got out of bed. Chrisjen's habits were deeply rooted, and Michael had come to learn them quickly.
"Your mind is on them today."
Michael sighed. "I'm sorry."
Chrisjen took Michael's face in her hands and rubbed Michael's cheeks with her thumbs. "Don't you dare fucking apologize to me for caring about your duty. But," she paused to kiss Michael pointedly, "you're young, and you must concentrate on building your life here. Let me help you do that, and it will only help them whenever they do arrive."
"You're right." Michael left the as usual unspoken. It was difficult to admit, but logic dictated that this was the smartest path.
"Of course I am. Now don't make me ask you to come back to bed again."