Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The hum of the USS Enterprise was as constant as the stars themselves—a low, steady thrum that whispered through the ship’s bones and into her own. Ensign YN LN sat perched on the edge of her narrow bunk, one leg crossed over the other, the heel of her boot clicking rhythmically against the metal frame. She clutched a PADD in one hand, its screen glowing faintly, while her other hand absently fiddled with the edge of her standard-issue uniform.
It wasn’t as though she disliked the sound of the ship. In fact, she found it comforting, in a way. The soft vibration reminded her she was moving, traveling light-years away from the stifling halls of Starfleet Medical Academy and the shadows of Earth. The PADD report—a mortality risk assessment for away missions—was meticulous, its numbers cold and precise. Ion storms accounted for a disturbingly high percentage of Starfleet fatalities, a statistic she had analyzed, cross-referenced, and confirmed over and over again. This was her work, a clinical safeguard for the living against the capricious void of space. And yet, the idea of presenting it to Doctor McCoy tomorrow morning filled her with a dread as vast as the vacuum outside.
It was clinical work, dry even by her standards, but it was hers. Every number, every recommendation, was a way to make the Enterprise just a little bit safer.
And yet, the idea of presenting it filled her with a familiar, gnawing anxiety.
The dead didn’t make her nervous. They didn’t stare at her too long- eyes burrowing holes in her skin- or ask why she was so quiet, why her words sometimes tangled together when she spoke too fast, or how she forgot to breathe while talking. The dead didn’t care if she "insincerely" avoided eye-contact or if her hands fidgeted when she was nervous. The dead didn’t judge.
The living, on the other hand, were a different matter entirely.
The door chime broke the silence.
YN slowly looked up, the PADD slipping from her hands and falling onto the bed, removing the hazy tiredness in her mind. She swore under her breath and yelled out a “Come in”, brushing her hands over her uniform.
The door slid open, and Nyota Uhura stepped inside, her presence like a beam of sunlight cutting through the sterile confines of the small quarters. She carried a tray in her hands, balancing two steaming mugs with practiced ease.
“You missed dinner,” Uhura said, her tone warm but teasing as she set the tray down on the desk. “Again. So I brought you some tea. Or… well, Spock’s version of tea. It’s green. I’ve been trying to
learn how to make it taste better, but apparently, it’s good for you.”
YN blinked at her, momentarily caught off guard. “Oh… uh, thanks. You didn’t have to.”
Uhura waved off the protest with a smile, settling herself onto the desk across from YN. “I know I didn’t. But you’ve been in here for hours. Figured you could use the company.”
YN’s gaze flicked to the steaming mug, but it was Uhura herself who held her attention. Her uniform was as crisp as ever, the gold trim catching the light in a way that complemented her smooth, dark complexion. But it was the earrings that truly stood out—delicate green rings that swung gently as she moved, the exact shade of the tea but infinitely more beautiful.
The comparison made YN smile despite herself. “I think your earrings are winning in the ‘green’ category,” she said softly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Uhura paused, then laughed, a rich, melodic sound that seemed to brighten the room. “You’ve got good taste, Ensign,” she said, touching one of the earrings lightly. “But don’t let the tea hear that—it’s sensitive.”
YN hesitated, her hands hovering awkwardly over one of the mugs. “I’ve been working,” she said, gesturing to the PADD as though it explained everything.
“Uh-huh,” Uhura said, her tone both knowing and kind. “Working yourself into a wormhole, maybe.”
YN frowned, her fingers curling around the warm ceramic of the mug. “I’m fine. Really.”
“YN,” Uhura interrupted softly, leaning forward slightly. Her voice was gentle but insistent, the kind of tone that didn’t allow for argument. “No one’s questioning your work ethic. You’ve got that in spades. But you can’t live in your head all the time.”
YN looked down at the tea, the steam curling upward like some intangible reminder of everything she couldn’t quite grasp. “It’s just… easier this way,” she murmured.
“Easier doesn’t mean better,” Uhura countered, her tone softening. “Trust me, I’ve been there. But you’ll never feel at home here if you don’t let anyone in.”
The words settled heavily between them, a mix of kindness and challenge. YN didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t.
Uhura let the silence linger for a moment before her lips quirked into a small smile. “Besides,” she added, her tone turning light, “you’re not going to learn anything about the rest of us by holing up in here. And I happen to know you’ve got a curious streak.”
YN let out a soft laugh despite herself. “Curious?”
“Call it what you like,” Uhura teased, rising from her chair. She paused at the door, glancing back with a sly grin. “But come to breakfast tomorrow. That’s an order.”
After Uhura left, YN found herself alone again, the warmth of the tea lingering in her hands but the silence of her quarters quickly settling back in. She stared at the PADD still lying on her bunk, the screen dark now, and sighed. There was always more to do.
She picked up the device and navigated to her daily log. As the ship’s unofficial mortician, it was her responsibility to keep meticulous records of the deceased—though, thankfully, her workload in that department was minimal on the Enterprise. The log was clinical and straightforward: details about storage conditions for medical specimens, contingency plans for body transport in the event of a fatality, and cross-references with Starfleet’s protocols. Tonight’s entry was routine but oddly grounding. The quiet finality of her work often gave her a strange kind of solace.
After completing the log, she leaned back against the wall, letting the steady hum of the ship vibrate through her. Her thoughts wandered, unbidden, to the report she’d been working on earlier. Ion storms. Plasma leaks. Transporter malfunctions. The hazards loomed in her mind like shadows in deep space. It wasn’t the danger itself that unnerved her—it was the randomness of it all. One wrong step, one faulty system, and even the most careful planning could crumble into chaos.
She smirked to herself, remembering McCoy’s gruff rant earlier about the transporter. “Scrambling your atoms and expecting you to come out whole on the other side,” he’d muttered, shaking his head. At the time, she’d nodded politely, but inwardly, she agreed completely. She’d seen the transporter logs—the odd malfunctions, strange anomalies, even the occasional bizarre duplication. YN had no desire to end up as one of those cautionary tales. If there was a shuttle option, she’d take it every time. At least a shuttle wouldn’t split her into two people or swap her molecular pattern with someone else’s.
Her fingers traced absent patterns along the edge of the PADD as she stared at the stars visible through her small viewport, head leaning on the cold glass. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of life, but also of its vast potential. Here she was, light-years from Earth, surrounded by a crew that had already begun to feel like family in ways she hadn’t expected. Uhura’s words echoed in her mind: “You can’t live in your head all the time.”
She huffed a quiet laugh at that. Easy for Uhura to say—she carried herself with the kind of confidence YN could only dream of. Still, the lieutenant had a point. The crew wasn’t just a collection of strangers; they were people she could rely on. Well, some of them at least.
Setting the PADD aside, YN climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over her shoulders. Pro side of starfleet issued bedding was that everything was extremely insulated. She didn't think any dreams would visit her; they were oddly rare out in space. But it left her warm and decently rested with nothing crazy to ponder.
Against orders, the next morning found her in engineering, clutching a PADD and trying not to feel completely out of place. The space was massive, alive with the hum of machinery and the steady pulse of the warp core. Consoles blinked in rhythmic patterns, and crew members moved with purpose, their voices blending into a low buzz of activity.
Odd as it seemed, the engineers reminded her of the mechanics themselves, the buzzing and flickering across places looking almost exactly like the main command console Uhura used.
YN hovered near the entrance, unsure of where to stand or who to address. Her assignment was straightforward enough: deliver updated medical data on hazardous material protocols.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
The voice came from a young crewman with dark hair, his expression polite but distracted.
“Uh, yes,” YN stammered, holding up the PADD like a shield. “I’m here from medical. Doctor McCoy wanted me to deliver this to the chief engineer.”
The crewman nodded, already turning away. “I’ll let Mr. Scott know.”
Before she could protest, he disappeared into the maze of consoles and catwalks. YN exhaled slowly, glancing around the cavernous space. Everything here felt alive—the panels blinking, the low roar of the warp core.
“First time in engineering?”
The voice startled her, and she turned to see a woman in a gold uniform standing nearby, her arms crossed and a curious smile on her face.
“Uh, yeah,” YN admitted, feeling her cheeks warm.
“Don’t worry, we don’t bite,” the woman said with a wink. “Much.” She was beautiful- short hair and broad shoulders, YN found herself thinking that she'd be a good star fleet poster-girl.
YN managed a nervous laugh, clutching the PADD tighter.
The gold-uniformed woman offered her hand, her expression open and friendly. “Lieutenant Marlowe. I handle safety inspections down here. You must be the new medical ensign everyone’s been whispering about.”
“Whispering?” YN blinked, taking the offered hand hesitantly.
Marlowe laughed—a warm, full sound that carried easily over the hum of machinery. “You work in the morgue, right? Trust me, you’ve got a reputation. But don’t worry, it’s a good one. Word is you’re sharp as a laser scalpel.”
YN’s grip on the PADD loosened slightly, though her mind churned over the idea of being talked about. She couldn’t decide if it was flattering or unsettling.
Before she could respond, a loud Scottish brogue rang out above the din. “Who’s lookin’ for me now?”
The lieutenant rolled her eyes but grinned, jerking her thumb toward the source of the voice. “That’s Scotty. Chief engineer, miracle worker, and general pain in the—well, you’ll see.”
A man descended the stairs, his movements brisk and purposeful. He was shorter than she expected, his uniform streaked with grease, but his presence filled the room with an unspoken authority.
The way his sharp gaze locked onto her sent a flutter of nerves—and something else—skittering through her chest.
“That’d be me,” he said, his voice rich with an accent that seemed to carry an unshakable confidence. The faint smirk on his face, coupled with the streak of grease across his cheek, gave him a rugged charm she hadn’t anticipated. For a moment, she forgot why she was even there, her thoughts embarrassingly preoccupied with how captivating he seemed in the chaos of the engineering bay.
Before YN could respond, his sharp gaze shifted to Marlowe, his tone turning brisk. “Ah, there ye are! Ye’ve got thirty minutes to finish that diagnostic, or we’ll be chasin’ our tails when the captain wants warp power.”
Marlowe grinned, unbothered by his tone, and offered a mock salute. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.” Before leaving, she grabbed YN’s hand with a mischievous glint in her eye and twirled her once like a dance partner, letting go just as quickly. She half-skipped into the hazardous-looking mechanics center, her carefree demeanor clashing amusingly with the industrial chaos around her.
Scotty watched her antics with a raised brow and a chuckle, turning back to YN. “Looks like Marlowe’s already got ye in her web. Careful, lass, or ye’ll be dragged into her antics more often than ye’d like.”
YN, still regaining her balance from the unexpected spin, tried to appear composed, though her flushed cheeks gave her away. “I wasn’t expecting that,” she admitted, slightly breathless.
“Aye, she’s good at catchin’ folk off guard,” Scotty said with a teasing glint in his eye. “Not that ye seemed to mind. Maybe next time, I’ll be the one givin’ ye a spin—though I doubt I’d be as graceful.”
YN’s eyes widened, her words fumbling. “Oh, I—uh, that’s not—”
Scotty held up a hand, his grin widening. “Relax, lass, I’m only teasin’. Though I might take ye up on it if morale gets too low around here.” His wink was quick but deliberate, leaving YN scrambling to suppress the ridiculous smile threatening to surface.
Seemingly done with playing at her feelings, Scotty shifted his focus back, “And you, lass? What brings ye to my little corner of chaos?”
YN straightened instinctively, clutching the PADD tightly. “Ensign YN LN, sir. I’m here to deliver updated medical data on hazardous material protocols.”
“Medical, eh?” Scotty stepped closer, his tone light but thoughtful as he took the PADD from her hands. “Looks thorough—not that it’s a bad thing in your line of work.”
YN blinked, thrown off by the casual compliment. “I just wanted to make sure everything was accurate, sir.”
“Diligence, I like that,” Scotty said with an approving nod, tapping the edge of the PADD. “Tell ye what—once I’ve wrestled this warp core into submission, maybe ye can swing by and keep me company. Engineering gets awfully quiet after hours.”
YN’s breath hitched, her face heating. “Oh, I, uh—well, I’m not sure if—”
Scotty cut her off with a full laugh, his grin lingered as he turned back to his console, leaving YN standing there, pulse racing and words tangled in her throat.
“Thank you,” she finally managed, her voice quieter than intended.
Scotty glanced over his shoulder, his expression softening. “Ye new aboard?”
“Yes, sir. About two weeks now... Sir.”
“Ah, that explains it,” Scotty said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Ye’ve got that look about ye—like ye’re still figuring out where everything is. Don’t worry, lass. Give it time. The Enterprise has a way of feeling like home, even to the greenest of recruits.”
YN managed a faint smile, unsure how to respond.
“Now, if ye’ll excuse me,” Scotty said, turning back toward the central console, “I’ve got a warp core to keep from exploding. Welcome aboard, Ensign.”
YN watched as he disappeared into the maze of consoles, his voice carrying orders to various crew members.
“See?” Marlowe said, nudging YN with her hip. “Not so scary, is he?”
“I guess not,” YN murmured, though her heart was still pounding from the interaction.
Marlowe's eyes widened, before clapping her on the shoulder. “You’ll do fine, just don’t let him catch you slacking off.”
Later that evening, YN found herself in the mess hall, tucked away at a corner table with a tray of food she had no real appetite for. The hum of conversation and the clatter of utensils filled the space, but it all blurred into the background, muffled by the storm of thoughts in her head.
She poked at the food on her plate, half-heartedly moving it from one side to the other, as though rearranging it might make it more palatable. The air in the mess hall felt heavier now, a stifling sense of how out of place she felt. Just as she let out a soft sigh and resigned to the idea of another essay in her quarters, YN sensed a presence nearby, the faintest ripple in the charged atmosphere around her.
Looking up, she found herself meeting the bright, curious gaze of Uhura, who was sliding into the seat across from her with ease; it was sweet to think she felt so naturally comfortable at YN's side that there wasn't any hesitation. Her uniform was crisp, her movements fluid, as though every gesture was deliberate yet effortless. She set down her own tray and leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, a warm smile lighting up her face.
“So,” Uhura began, her voice smooth and steady, carrying just enough curiosity to seem friendly without being overbearing, “how was your day?”
For a moment, YN hesitated, caught off guard by the directness of the question. She wasn’t used to being asked such things—not sincerely anyway. But something about Uhura’s demeanor, the way she seemed genuinely interested, made it difficult to retreat into her usual guardedness.
She allowed herself a small, tentative smile. “Busy,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended. “But… not bad.”
“Not bad is a good start,” Uhura replied, her tone warm and encouraging, as though she’d been waiting for exactly that answer. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet confidence that was both reassuring and enviable
YN nodded, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her tray. There was something in Uhura’s words, in the way she spoke them, that felt less like reassurance and more like a promise.