Chapter Text
The streaking star-field fell behind them as Sagan made her way at a stately Warp six towards sector 21502. Tinubu turned in her chair, drawn from her reverie as Dr. Cavanaugh arrived early for their first senior staff meeting.
The physician gave the compartment an approving nod as she assumed roughly the same seat at the conference table she had back aboard Prokofiev half a decade earlier. “Nice digs,” she assessed. “Beats our ratty old conference room all to hell.”
Tinubu mock glowered. “You’re casting aspersions upon my former command, Doctor. She wasn’t pretty, and she wasn’t fast, but Prokofiev was ours.”
Cavanaugh shrugged. “Maybe so, but I certainly don’t miss the old girl’s Sickbay. Five years of fiddling and Dewaro’s upgrades and it still wasn’t to my liking when we debarked.”
The captain’s answering shrug was her only response.
“So…” Tinubu changed the subject, “…you and Evgeni? How long has that been going on for?”
Cavanaugh actually blushed, covering her face with one hand as she collected her thoughts. “A couple of months now. We’d been so good at keeping it under wraps, and then I go and mess everything up!”
Tinubu shook her head, smirking. “Not at all, Carol. It just took us by surprise. The two of you are actually rather a lovely couple.”
Cavanaugh peeked out between her fingers. “You’re not mad?”
“We’re all adults,” Tinubu said with a laugh. “I’d just never seen any sparks between the two of you in ten years.”
“We ran into each other at a conference on Alcent,” Cavanaugh revealed, happy to be able to talk about it with someone finally. “We went out for dinner, just two old friends, and that led to drinks… which eventually led to him telling me that he’d had feelings for me ever since we served together. Obviously, he’d kept that to himself because of my being married at the time, but now I’m long divorced and… well…”
“Sparks,” Tinubu provided with a smile.
“Yeah,” Cavanaugh agreed with a sigh. “And how.”
The doors parted to admit the rest of Sagan’s actual senior staff, including her executive officer Evgeni Morozov, now wearing the three pips of a commander after a temporary reduction in rank for the duration of the assignment. These were the real department heads, proctors, and instructors who would teach and monitor the progress of the crew of cadets and non-commissioned recruits during the cruise. The senior cadets acting as department heads would have their meeting with the captain later in the shift.
Tinubu listened to their readiness reports and updates on lesson-plans and simulated emergencies that would test the cadets’ systems knowledge as well as their level of stress-inoculation. It would be another week and a half until Sagan reached the planet they’d been assigned to survey. Until that time, they would run the crew through their paces.
She kept the meeting short, which was her habit, and returned the assembled officers to their duties. Morozov remained behind, looking somewhat sheepishly at Tinubu as Cavanaugh exited the compartment at the tail end of the exodus.
“How’s your head?” she inquired.
“Better, thank you. As my body is constantly reminding me, I’m no longer a young man.” He gestured towards the doors, “Captain, I wanted to expl—”
Tinubu waved him off. “Evgeni, I just had that conversation with Carol. I’m happy for the both of you, and you two are adorable together.”
He smiled, still embarrassed but visibly more at ease. “Thank you for saying so, sir.”
She leaned back in her chair. “I do have questions, but not about that.”
Morozov looked curious and spread his hands in a gesture of candor. “By all means.”
“What I really want to know is what happened on the T’Pol? I pulled a lot of strings to help get you that command, and you were barely there a year before you jumped ship for a teaching billet at the academy.”
He winced, nodding his head fractionally. “Yes, I’m sorry. I realize you stuck your neck out for me, and my giving up T’Pol must have seemed a betrayal of that effort.”
“No, never a betrayal. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I tried to reach you in San Francisco, but your replies to my messages were always brief and matter-of-fact. I got the distinct impression you didn’t want to talk about it. That’s why I was so surprised when you called me out of the blue and offered to serve as my exec on this cruise.”
He offered her a wan smile that did little to mask the discomfort in his eyes. “It just wasn’t the same, Adi. I thought I could create that same atmosphere that you forged on Prokofiev, that same sense of belonging… of family.” He issued a resigned sigh. “I don’t know if it was me, or them, or both. Perhaps we just didn’t have the right collective chemistry. Despite my best efforts I couldn’t build that bond with them. We had our successes, our high points, but regardless of what we accomplished professionally, I’d never felt so completely alone and isolated.”
“I’m so sorry, Evgeni. I’d have moved heaven and earth to help if only I’d known.”
“I should have called. I almost did a dozen times over, but I always stopped myself. It was my own ego, of course, that conceit that I could somehow fix it myself. Calling you for help would have seemed like I couldn’t stand on my own two feet.”
She nodded slowly, her expression conveying sympathy. “I understand. That damned fourth pip adds more weight and responsibility than most ever realize. But I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes, that magic formula doesn’t exist. I’ve served with senior officers that never gelled into a functional team. What we had aboard Prokofiev was very special, and I’ve not experienced the same before or since.”
He gave a small, long-suffering chuckle. “You see? Just knowing that right there might have helped.”
“There are other commands,” she noted. “You still have decades ahead of you, should you choose.”
Morozov sounded a confessional note, “I honestly don’t think so. I’ve loved my time at the academy. I feel like I’m contributing, making a difference in the lives of these youngsters. It’s not what we had, but it’s the closest thing to it that I’ve found. Perhaps I’m just not cut out for the center seat?”
“We all bear our own truths,” she replied.
* * *
Lar’ragos looked on from his bunk as Sandhurst painstakingly arranged a series of baubles and curios on the shelving above his own bunk.
He struggled to repress a grin as he asked, “Did you bring everything from your academy dorm room for a five week training cruise?”
“Not everything, no,” Sandhurst replied, situating a small replica of Johannesburg’s New Hillbrow Tower amid the other collectables. “Just the important things.”
Arms behind his head, Lar’ragos shrugged, the gesture lost to Sandhurst’s back. “So, you’re specializing in Ops?”
“Engineering,” came the laconic reply. More fiddling with knickknacks. “You a medic?”
“Science,” Lar’ragos corrected. “Xenobiology is my major, or it will be after I complete all these damn prerequisites. I’m still trying to figure out what the relevance is of my knowing the finer points of ancient Terran Greek philosophy.”
“Probably it’s similarity to Tellarian First Dynasty metaphysics or Denobulan existentialism; the idea being that most sentient life is relatable, regardless of planet of origin.”
This prompted an appraising look from Lar’ragos at the much younger man as Sandhurst continued turning and moving the various items until he was satisfied with their placement.
“I suppose,” Lar’ragos mused. “It’s just been a long while since I studied philosophy.”
“It wasn’t a required subject where you grew up?” Sandhurst cast a curious glance over his shoulder at Lar’ragos as he began unpacking civilian clothes into the drawers under his bunk. He sounded surprised, “That was basic curriculum in my province back home.”
“Oh, it was. In fact, art, philosophy, poetry, what on Earth used to be called ‘the humanities’ was almost exclusively my education from the time I could walk.”
Now it was Sandhurst’s turn to cast an appraising eye towards Lar’ragos. “And you’ve already forgotten all that? You’re only what… thirty? Thirty-two?”
The El-Aurian gave him a saccharine smile. “I look young for my age.”
“Thirty-five?”
“Sure. Something like that,” Lar’ragos lied.
“Well, if you can bear to muddle through the more tedious classes, you’ll eventually get to sink your teeth into your major. That’s why I’m glad that engineering has some of the fewest of the ‘soft science’ requirements. Give me a spanner and a torch and I’m happy.”
“A tinkerer, eh?” Lar’ragos laughed. “I’ve known a few of those in my day. Your type comes in handy in a pinch.”
Sandhurst offered the first smile from him Lar’ragos had witnessed. “We’re miracle workers.”
“All hands, now hear this,” blared the all-call. “Beta shift, report to your duty posts. Alpha shift, when relieved from post, report for classroom instruction. Gamma shift is off duty until 1400 hours.”
Lar’ragos sat up, stood, and straightened his uniform. “Back to the salt mines.”
Sandhurst frowned at him, confused. “The what?”
* * *