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Captain’s Log, stardate 1308.9: The spacial anomaly we encountered two days ago has disappeared, as if it never existed. Commander Burnham has given a full report on what she experienced, but there still remains more questions than answers.
Captain Philippa Georgiou strode through the cramped corridors of the USS Shenzhou, her focus entirely set dead ahead. Usually she would nod and smile at her crew as she passed them, but not tonight. She had other things on her mind.
Eventually she reached her destination. Pausing outside the door to the private cabin, she considered alerting the person within of her presence — but they were both past the point where that was necessary. Instead, Georgiou simply stepped further and the doors opened automatically.
Once inside, however, the captain wondered if perhaps she should have asked for permission. The young woman she came to see kept her back from her, standing ramrod as always as she gazed out the tiny porthole at the stars beyond.
Georgiou fully entered and the doors closed behind her. Now completely removed from everyone and everything else, she finally spoke. “Number One?”
“Captain,” came the simple, curt response. The first officer did not even turn around. Georgiou was both surprised and not so. She knew very well despite Commander Michael Burnham’s efforts to project the contrary, she very much felt.
And she had been through a very dramatic couple of days.
It was rare the Shenzhou encountered anything out the ordinary these days. Instead, the old science vessel made up the numbers in Starfleet’s current war against the Klingons. That did not leave much time for exploration, so it was quite out of the current norm when a strange spacial anomaly appeared in their direct vicinity. Burnham, being Burnham, insisted on investigating… and was lost for nearly two days, all communication cut off and no life signs detected. For more than one reason, Georgiou was more than worried.
Her first officer’s story when she finally reappeared was just as bizarre. According to Burnham, she got caught in a dimensional portal and transported to some alternate reality. That was what she believed, anyway — Lieutenant Saru had a differing opinion.
Regardless, according to Burnham, the reality she found herself in was both widely different and depressingly similar. Burnham, resourceful as always, looked up the computer files in this “different reality” for any and all information, and found out just how different — yet similar — it was. For a start, the technology was far superior, with holographic communications and instant item synthesization. The uniforms were apparently more intricate, darkly coloured and with metal zippers and buckles. Georgiou found Burnham’s description vulgar: what was wrong with their actual uniforms, the modest tunic and trousers? Granted, the women’s cowled collars were fetching, but still…
However, the Federation was still in conflict with the Klingons and even worse, it seemed a mutiny started it - on the Shenzhou, no less! Never mind the fact the Klingons actually attacked first, but why would a Starfleet officer ever go against orders? And the insinuation that the Vulcans fired first on a previous encounter? As if.
But right now, late in the day, none of that mattered to Georgiou. What mattered was the current state of her first officer. Her… “Michael? Please talk to me.”
Again, Michael Burnham kept her back to her. “I gave you my report.”
Georgiou stepping closer. “I’m not here as your captain. My shift is over… I’m here as your fiancee.”
Michael’s full-body bristle was obvious. “You agree with Saru. You think I hallucinated the whole thing.”
The science officer’s appraisal made more sense, admittedly. “Right now all I care about is how you’re doing.”
“No, you’re seeing if I need a psychiatric report.” Michael’s tone was cold… logical. “I know what I experienced, Philippa.”
Sighing, Philippa struggled what to say. Looking around their surroundings, she saw the Vulcan mementos her young darling kept as a reminder of her past. The captain knew Michael cherished her time on the planet, but damn if it stunted her growth in her most impressionable years.
Deciding to cut to the chase, the older woman went upto her XO until their bodies were flush, an action which took only a few more steps, given the cabin’s size. It was not like the Shenzhou was a Constitution-class ship — and even they only had marginally more floorspace.
That broke through Michael’s rigid facade. When Philippa wrapped her arms around her waist from behind, the younger woman instinctively eased back. “I’m not doubting that, Michael,” she said softly. “But there’s more — you’ve been out-of-sorts ever since you got back. No one else may have seen it, but I did.”
“You would have ordered anyone who went through such an experience to take some downtime,” Michael said. “I know it wasn’t preferential treatment.”
“That’s not what I meant.” It was something they both swore would never happen when they got together: Philippa would never take advantage of being Michael’s superior that way. When it came to their relationship, they were equals. Resting her chin on Michael’s shoulder, she pressed further. “What else happened?” Just like her fiancee’s demeanour, Philippa knew there was more going on.
After several agonising beats, Michael let out a sigh in defeat. “The aesthetics of the surroundings and high level of technology were not the only differences. The very atmosphere seemed… toxic. Metaphorically, I mean.”
“If they’re in the middle of a war like us, that’s understandable,” Philippa reasoned. “More than once I’ve gotten reports of crewmembers being snippy with eachother.”
“It was more than that,” Michael insisted. “Everyone appeared to… resent one another. Saru in particular seemed to detest me.” A pause. “Or at least, the alternate me whose body I had transferred into.”
Philippa did not know what to make of that, to be honest. Like much of her first officer’s report, it did indeed sound more like a fever dream than something that actually happened. “Right… “ she eventually mumbled. “Why would he feel that way? Was he the one who mutinied? You said you didn’t know who the mutineer was.”
It was lucky for Michael the porthole window was not particularly reflective, so Philippa could not see her eyes dart away for a nanosecond. “No… I never found that out,” the younger woman eventually said. “But it wasn’t him. He was not in the brig.”
“Logical,” quipped the captain in an attempt to make her lover feel better. It clearly did not work. “But that’s not all, is it?” Yes, she had eased into Philippa’s embrace, but Michael was not relaxed. Something was still wrong.
Perhaps it was the most disturbing part of Michael’s story that troubled her. It certainly was so for Philippa. The notion that an underhanded operations unit could exist within Starfleet was… absurd. That, more than anything, made the captain believe her XO’s experience was all in her head. Michael’s suggestion that they look into this supposed “Section 31” in the briefing room was met with odd glances among the bridge crew. Obviously, as a responsible officer Philippa would make sure it was investigated, but she did not believe anything would be found. Not only because there was no record of such a thing existing — it was simply the very idea being anathema to Philippa. She could not fathom the Federation being so duplicitous.
Michael’s next words, however, dispelled that as the source of her discomfort. “No. I found out things about me… her… the other me.” Finally Michael turned in Philippa’s arms until they were face-to-face. “My childhood was different.”
“Your parents were alive?” was Philippa’s immediate reaction. When that was met with a shake of the head, she came to the next logical conclusion. “You… she wasn’t raised on Vulcan, by Sasak and T’Pel?”
Another head shake. “I was raised on Vulcan… but not by Sasak. I was raised by Sarek.”
Philippa had to think a moment. “Sarek… he’s an ambassador, isn't he?” Even nearly 200 years after First Contact, Vulcans were notoriously secretive. Besides, all races within the Federation had many ambassadors and senators.
“With a Human wife and half-Human son — Spock” clarified Michael. “He serves on the Enterprise, actually. Our Enterprise, with Pike.”
“So you… her… dammit, the alternate you… never knew Selek?” Philippa was referring to Sasak’s son, who Michael was raised with like a sibling. As for Spock? Again, forgive the captain for not knowing every Vulcan by name off by heart.
“It appeared not,” sighed Michael.
Philippa now knew why her first officer was so shaken. “I’m so sorry, Michael. It would unnerve anyone to learn in some alternate reality, their past was different. After all, the past is what makes us who we are.”
To the captain’s surprise, Michael then leaned in, cupping her face and taking a gulp. “Perhaps that would explain… something else that was different.”
“Darling… ?”
“Us.”
Philippa felt her heart sink. “… where we not together?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Michael. “I was unable to access private records or logs.” That made sense: familial backgrounds would be included in general crew records, but romantic relationships? Not so much.
Frankly, Philippa was unsure how to feel about that. If she was the cynical type, she could see it as “cosmic confirmation” that their coupling was wrong. Indeed, it was wrong for captains to fraternise with their subordinates — literally against the Starfleet rulebook, even — but in Philippa’s flimsy defence, she did not act on her feelings for Michael until she was absolutely certain her first officer felt the same. Even then, she made sure those feelings were genuine, and not simply a crush on a mentor figure. And even then, the captain insisted on keeping separate cabins, never engaging in affection in public, and absolutely no sexual activities when onboard.
Maybe that was why Michael kept demanding to accompany Philippa on overnight landing parties…
Michael saw their coupling as completely logical, given they were both madly in love. Philippa, on the other hand, saw it as completely illogical, given Michael would turn 31 this year and Philippa would turn 55. Even in 2257, a 24-year-age difference between two Humans was looked at with raised eyebrows. That, perhaps moreso than regulations, was why it took a lot of convincing for the captain to accept Michael’s marriage proposal. In a desperate attempt to remain professional, Philippa did not say yes until she was due for promotion to commodore and reassignment off the Shenzhou. Philippa could not live with herself, irrespective of the rules, if she remained CO and married to her XO.
“But if we were together,” continued Michael, “what I learnt about that reality would only make it worse.”
That made no sense to Philippa. Perhaps her fiancee did need a psyche repor…
“You were dead.”
Philippa’s blood froze. “W… what… ?” She struggled to comprehend. “How… ?”
Michael clearly had difficulty getting her words out. “You were… killed in battle against the Klingons. Specific details were scarce, but… it happened last May.”
Her first officer using the Earth calendar likely meant it occurred before Starfleet switched to the stardate method of recording events — something everyone was still getting used to, frankly. “Well… “ The captain took a moment to compose herself. “… let’s just hope that doesn’t happen, shall we?”
Michael stiffened, but Philippa knew her fiancee too well: that meant she was reverting to her Vulcan upbringing in an attempt to stem emotional compromise. “Logically, we’ve already prevented it. In that universe, you’ve been dead for eight months. But here, you’re not… de… “
Philippa’s heart nearly broke seeing her young lover struggling to control herself. “Love, it’s alright. I’m right here.” Michael, finally caving, closed her eyes and rested their foreheads together. The commander took a deep breath, and Philippa stroked her arms in their embrace. Again, whether what her fiancee experienced was real or not, what mattered to Philippa was Michael’s wellbeing. And seeing her in this state, considering how reserved she always tried to be, was heart wrenching. “I promise you I’m not going anywhere.”
“To make good on that promise,” husked the XO, “you need to do whatever it takes to speed up your promotion. Because what I’ve been through makes it absolutely certain that we need to be reassigned as soon as possible.”
Philippa could not help a wince. Though she knew Michael meant well, the idea the older woman give up the Shenzhou so readily was difficult: she had been her captain for nearly a decade. The promotion she accepted was taking her into a desk job. That would be disorientating enough, but…
“And yes, I said we,” Michael continued. “Because I know what you’re thinking. But as I’ve told you numerous times, my career comes second to you.” She planted a gentle kiss to Philippa’s lips. “To us.”
Indeed. That was the final reason Philippa continually questioned herself over their relationship, because Michael made it abundantly clear her career prospects meant less to her than their impending nuptials. Philippa knew two years ago Michael was ready for her own command, but the young woman would rather take a reassignment herself — maybe even a decommissioning! — than be departed from her older lover. That decision did not help the matter of the noticeable decline in female captains as of late. If that oddball cadet Lester who Philippa met during a visit to the academy was any indication, in another decade Starfleet Command would be a boys-only club…
The younger woman, logically, had it all planned out. Philippa would be promoted to an administrative role, with Michael as her direct assistant. Captaincy of her own ship — most likely the Shenzhou itself — was out of the question, as far as Michael was concerned, because a long-distance marriage was completely illogical to her.
Philippa could not help a chuckle slip out as her heart swelled. For obvious reasons, she did not deserve this woman. “Just three more months, sweetheart,” she found herself breathing. “Then I’m all yours. And to prove it… “ With that, she escalated what Michael started and kissed her deeply, which her darling returned with gusto.
Before they could break the rules Philippa laid down and collapse straight onto Michael’s single mattress, they separated their lips and took deep breaths. “I love you, Philippa,” choked Michael.
The captain raised their joined hands and kissed Michael’s knuckles, lingering her lips ever-so longer on her engagement ring. “Let’s get some rest,” Philippa managed. “Tomorrow we’re rendezvousing with the Ares.”
Taking a visible gulp, Michael straightened up. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry.”
Philippa stroked her fiancee’s face. “Don’t be sorry, darling. I’d be a mess if I found out, in some twisted universe, that you had been killed. I don’t think I could go on.” Perhaps in a moment of clarity, the captain realised that was true: hang protocol, her command, or even Michael’s own career. It mattered not that her intended had their future mapped out. What mattered most was they had a future — together.
Once the women broke their embrace, they both took a moment to compose themselves. Eventually Michael spoke, a look of acceptance on her face. “If you think it would help, I’ll report to Dr. Culber for a psychiatric evaluation. It’s… logical to consider what I experienced was a hallucination. A particularly realistic one, but a hallucination nonetheless.”
Philippa smiled softly. “I think that’s a good idea. It’s not that I don’t think you believe what you’re saying, Michael. But we need to go through all the possibilities.” The commander nodded in agreement. “But later. Like I said, I need you with me when we meet up with the Ares. Garth can be quite a handful.” She motioned to her love’s bed. “Which means we both need to get some sleep.”
“Agreed,” said Michael. “You know, there was one more stark difference.” Philippa frowned in questioning. “Your colourful language reminded me.”
At that, the CO blinked. “My colourful… you’re calling me out for saying ‘dammit’?” She looked at her fiancee with mock incredulity.
“In that alternate reality,” Michael continued, “… if, indeed, it was an alternate reality… the language being used was foul. Even Sylvia… “ She shook her head. “You would have been mortified, Philippa.” Michael’s best friend was the sweetest person on the ship, with not a bad word to say about anyone or anything.
Chuckling again, Philippa shrugged. “Well Number One, if indeed it was an alternate reality… let’s just hope there’s not an even worse one out there somewhere.”