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If Saru had been given a choice, he would not have attended the party. It was the sort of affair that other species loudly enjoyed. He wouldn’t deny them their pleasures, not at all, but he would much prefer spending his free time reading and tending to his plants. On some days it was the only peace he had after a long shift spent waiting on edge for something to go wrong in Shenzhou’s many complex systems, or for some astronomical anomaly to swallow them whole, or for an away mission to turn deadly, or for an alien delegation to deem them an enemy and attack without warning.
They hadn’t encountered any such danger today, but he was still worn from a double shift on the bridge and in the science labs, and all he wanted to do was rest somewhere quiet and private.
But Georgiou had seemed intent on him coming, and he couldn’t imagine ever doing anything to disappoint her. Perhaps she was right, and he would gain something from the experience. She had to have her reasons for requesting his presence. Even if she was not here herself.
He wouldn’t have been able to avoid it anyway, not unless he was willing to forgo dinner for the evening. Whoever was in charge of setting up had transformed the mess hall into a colorful new world, draped in sparkling decorations and spotted here and there with flickering holographic illusions of cloud-wreathed planets and softly-shining nebulae. Saru was impressed. He wished he had more opportunity to study it undisturbed.
When he entered the space was already crowded with people, all talking at once but somehow still able to focus only on their individual conversations.
It was not that he disliked his crewmates. They were to a one hard-working, dedicated people who believed in the ideals of Starfleet. But he would never understand their hobbies. Loud music, intoxicants, games with startling bursts of motion and sound.
He knew humans’ nervous systems were constructed differently from Kelpiens’, but it was still hard to imagine how they found this pleasant.
He couldn’t fathom wishing to have his senses impaired.
The music pounded in his ears, drowning out conversation. He knew it wasn’t especially loud to the humans, but the frequencies were unnatural ones that bruised against his senses. Once in his life, sounds like that would be a warning of a slaughter to come. And even when he knew they were not, keeping himself calm and still in the face of that instinct was exhausting.
There were too many people around, and unlike when on duty, he couldn’t predict what they were doing, so he was constantly aware of them, constantly tracking them so he wouldn’t be startled when they inevitably moved behind him unexpectedly or did something to make a loud noise.
He tried to treat it as background noise, like an alarm going off or a faulty engine humming and creaking. Tried to enjoy the array of treats that’d been laid out on the tables. Those, at least, appealed. There was a wide variety of fruit, spiced crackers, and sweet cookies and pastries. But it wasn’t enough to soothe nerves rubbed raw from the noise.
He chalked it up to the overwhelming chaos that he didn’t notice for almost half an hour that Lieutenant Burnham was also there, standing unhappily in a corner, watching her fellow crewmates with distrust and caution. She kept glancing down at her padd, as if hoping it would have answers.
Maybe he wasn’t the only person feeling uneasy here.
For a moment, he considered trying to talk to her. But they were not friends. Far from it. She was arrogant, and never missed a chance to question his abilities, belittle his fears. Despite that, he had to admit she was skilled, if reckless, and he had always suspected she was hiding something more vulnerable under that.
Somehow, he doubted she would show it now. Not if she felt as cornered as he did, not with too many people watching. He approached her, and then realized he had no idea what to say.
Burnham eyed him, but said nothing, and went back to squinting at the padd in her hands. Evidently whatever was on it displeased her. Or did it? He thought he could detect a hint of relief in her posture, but he couldn’t be sure.
As it turned out, he didn’t need to ask. She turned to him with an unreadable expression. “Lieutenant. A defect has been reported in the aft sensor array. Will you join me in examining it?”
“Of- of course.”
He followed her out into the corridor. The door slid closed behind them.
The quiet was a greater relief than he could describe.
After a few steadying breaths, he turned to Burnham, searching for words to express his gratitude that wouldn’t compromise his pride.
She narrowed her eyes at him before he could speak.
“Don’t thank me,” she said. “I didn’t do this for you.” She shoved the padd into his hands and strode off without another word.
Were it any other day, he’d never allow her to push her work off on him. Any other day, and she never would, because she wouldn’t have trusted him to do it right.
But today, she had listened. She had noticed his discomfort, and hadn’t mocked him for it. Instead, she had seemed to share it. And found them both a way to escape.
Maybe they had more in common than he thought.
He studied the report. The defect she’d called his attention to turned out to be nothing more than a large but statistically unremarkable variation in normal function. Nothing truly worth raising alarms about. But Saru considered it his duty to run the relevant diagnostics even so, and by the time he’d confirmed that all the sensors and subsystems were in working order, the party was just about over. Which meant that Saru saw no issue with returning to his blissfully quiet and secure quarters for the night. He would apologize to the Captain in the morning, and perhaps suggest some improvements to be made to the sensor array to prevent future issues.
He’d give Burnham the credit she deserved for uncovering the issue. He predicted the Captain would be amused to hear of them working together unasked. Maybe she would be impressed enough to assign him additional responsibilities. If he could further impress her by carrying those out above and beyond his expectations, that could mean a promotion. And then… but he was getting ahead of himself. He shook his head to clear it and turned his attention to the pot of Hesperian morningdew that sat on a high shelf by the window.
The tiny purple flowers grew best in quiet, undisturbed places, such as the abandoned watchtower he had taken this sample from on a recent away mission. He noted with a touch of guilt that some of the buds had already wilted, likely disturbed by the transplantation and the vibrations of the ship. But others were growing strong. As he watered it and sprinkled a light dusting of nutrient powder over the soil, he wondered idly if there were any plants that thrived in chaotic situations over peaceful ones.
Until today, he would have assumed Michael Burnham to be like one of those hypothetical flowers, seeking out trouble like a sprout sought sun and water. Maybe she still was, and today was only an anomaly.
Whether her actions signaled peace or danger, he would keep watching her, as he did everything else. It was the only way he knew how to stay safe.