Christopher Pike exited the bridge after leaving Commander Airiam in charge. It was later than usual for him, but after spending much of the day avoiding his shadow, Tyler, he felt it only fair to put in a few extra hours that evening. All he wanted now was a good night's rest. Perhaps in the morning he would stop by medical to see how Dr. Culber was doing. If his brilliance as a physician aboard such a unique ship didn't make history, his miraculous return from death would!
"And the dead shall rise," he thought, scoffing a bit. "What's next? A haunted ship?"
Pike moved aside when the lift door reopened, allowing a group of crewmen a wide birth. The junior officers quickly poured inside, appearing quite lively at first, but that energy changed to respect when they spotted their Captain. One by one, they curbed their small swears and silly hoots.
"Sir," said the quintet in turns, while taking measure of their appearance.
Christopher responded with a faint chuckle.
When the doors closed, he asked, "So, where's the party?"
Feigning surprise, the officers looked around.
"Sir?" one of them replied.
Pike adopted a sardonic smirk that said, 'Don't play that game.' He was once their age too! He knew all too well the allure of a late-night morale bash. The Enterprise had them. All ships had them, and while they were far from official, or officially endorsed, they were a necessary indulgence.
"The party. Where is it?" he said again.
"Oh – that. Well, um … it's on Deck 6 – Captain, sir. And it's not a party – not really. It's just a few friends, some drinks … and a little music! That's all!"
Pike shot the young man another look, a look that many of his buddies recognized. They promptly nudged their friend as if to tell him to stop bullshitting the man!
"I'm sure you're right," said the Captain.
Moments later, the doors reopened. This time a wave of techno-opera startled Christopher into full alert. The group quickly exited the lift oblivious to the fact that their Captain, while mildly amused, wasn't overly pleased that the entire deck was booming!
"What the …?" he thought, stepping outside.
The Captain observed several crew members lining the corridor outside of the Observatory. They were drinking and laughing. He wasn't sure how they managed to communicate over the horrific Andorian opera blaring from within, but they did. Curious, he made his way towards the flickering lights down the hall, while taking note of the glittery streamers and confetti all around. It was certainly festive! Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to set the mood, but who? Christopher did his best to appear 'off the clock' as he ventured closer to the main event, but that did little to stop the less intoxicated crewmen from bucking up as he passed. He wasn't there to police their good time, but it would be irresponsible of him not to investigate.
Sylvia Tilly chased her third shot of tequila with a glass of fiery Torpedo punch as the crowd cheered on. The rosemary lights that Stamets suggested flickered all over the floor, while dramatic voices and a techno beat reverberated off the walls. It was half passed midnight, and everyone there had the next shift off!
"Drink! Drink! Drink!" the crowd chanted.
Tilly finished her glass with a triumphant yelp before sliding it across the table for the next brave soul standing perfectly erect.
"TOP that!" she told her friend.
Burnham looked down at the glass apprehensively. She had no desire to top anything. Tilly was having a great time, which was well and good, but her buzz was beginning to show! Despite not having to get up early, she would undoubtedly regret her partying if she didn't ease up.
"No, thank you," said Michael, offering her friend a stern smile. "Don't you think you've had enough, Tilly?"
Smiling back, the redhead ignored the advice and offered the next person in view the challenge. The responsibility quickly fell to Lieutenant Beckett who gladly refilled the glass with twice as much of the glowing punch. He would show the young Ensign that his class, the class of 2250, reigned supreme!
"I will see your shot, Tilly, and raise you a double torpedo!" he told the room.
A cheering audience observed merrily as Beckett downed the first shot. Without missing a beat, he chugged the tall glass of agony right afterwards. Those watching mirrored his regret, including Tilly, before falling silent. Beckett's eyes swelled. He looked like a volcano without spout until he erupted all over his best friend Jonas! The crewman, now covered in luminous punch, looked none too pleased.
"Oh, God – I … I'm so sorry," he said coughing. "What the hell is in this?!"
Michael looked on passively as the crowd broke into yet another round of applause. Due to her Vulcan upbringing, the appeal surrounding this sort of entertainment seemed exceedingly illogical. What purpose did it serve? What good could come from making oneself silly or sick? How did it aid their personnel development?
Burnham offered little pity to the red-face Lieutenant who brazenly bit off more than he could chew. He would be fine. He just needed to catch his breath. As he did so, she wandered off and found a seat by the window. Tilly was busy directing the game and soliciting more people to play for which there was no shortage of volunteers. Nearly everyone wanted to try!
"So, this is how you spend your evenings?" shouted a familiar voice.
Michael looked up to find Captain Pike peering down seemingly amused.
"Sir? No, sir! I'm only here to support my friend," she answered.
Christopher rolled his eyes. If Burnham was anyone else, he might've suspected her of fibbing or joking, but this was Spock's sister. She was raised on Vulcan. They didn't "do" funny and they always spoke the truth.
"Everyone is really getting into it – the game, the dancing, even the horrible music! I'd say this little shindig is just what the doctor ordered!" said Pike.
"They've earned it, sir. I think we all have," Michael replied.
"Agreed. Now, why aren't you up there strutting your Vulcan stuff?"
Burnham offered her Captain a ridiculous look.
"I am content to strut my Vulcan stuff through observation, sir."
Grinning, Pike looked around the room. The scene reminded him of his academy days when he and the other cadets tried to drink each other under the table. He was older and grayer now, but the urge to chug a few was still there. Christopher's eyes soon fell on the director of this orchestrated chaos. She was laughing hysterically with a group of peers in the center of a hopping commotion.
"Ensign Tilly seems to be having fun," he remarked. "Is she the party genius behind all of this?"
Michael nodded.
"That she is, sir. She's having a great time – but then, these types of social gatherings suit her. Personally, I'd rather soak my day away in a hot bath with a good book."
Pike's face changed. Burnham wasn't the partying type. In fact, it was probably well after her usual bath and bedtime.
"So why are you really here?" he asked.
Inhaling, Michael leaned back. Tilly was upset after what happened in the Mycelial network. It felt wrong to leave her friend alone. Granted, she was far from alone, but these faces didn't know Tilly as she did. They didn't know how delicate she was or how much she needed to feel normal.
"Tilly needed this and I needed to be here for her," Burnham said solemnly.
It had been an eventful few weeks. First with the luddite civilization, then the ancient sphere, on top of their continued pursuit of a mysterious entity that eluded them at every turn. Not to mention Tilly's abduction! Everyone needed to let their hair down for a little while, even straight-laced humans with a logic fetish. But that was none of his business. Burnham was her own woman with her own private life. Maybe getting plastered on her night off wasn't her thing.
Tilly was another story. Pike could see that she was swaying closer to the mark. If she wasn't careful, she'd end up crossing that gray line between rowdy and disorderly. Christopher was fond of the young woman. The last thing he wanted was for her to jeopardize her position in the Command Program.
"Who approved this little get together?" he carefully asked.
Burnham offered her Captain a puzzling look.
"I wasn't aware that crew gatherings required approval," said Burnham.
Christopher kneeled so Michael would sense that he wasn't there in any official capacity. He had no desire to kill the mood. He just wanted to be sure that Tilly was covered on the backend. Recreational use of the Observatory was generally approved by the First Officer and Saru hadn't mentioned it in his evening report.
"Normally, these things don't require approval. What the crewmen do in their off-hours is their business so long as they don't break the ship," he smiled. "But it so happens that recreational use of the Observatory requires clearance. Do you know if Tilly submitted a request?"
Michael opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She wanted to assure her Captain that Tilly had followed protocol, but she had no idea. Suddenly, the impulse to run over and turn off the music struck.
"Honestly, sir – I don't know," she answered, looking to and from the party goers all around. "I would think so!"
Pike scoffed. If word got back to Commander Saru and it most certainly would, he would undoubtedly be very displeased. Standing, the Captain left Burnham and waded through the crowd towards Tilly. She was among the group chanting while another victim chugged the Torpedo concoction.
"Ensign!" he shouted.
Tilly did not hear.
"Ensign Tilly!" he said again.
Beaming, the redhead glanced over and spotted a handsome face lingering behind several junior officers. They were so engrossed in the music and fun, they hadn't noticed him there.
Surprised, she mouthed, "Captain?"
Oh, shit!
Tilly was swooning from the effects of the alcohol, but she was sober enough to know that she needed to report to him right away. She nervously bumped and slid through several people, stumbling a few times before finally reaching him.
"Sir?" she said awkwardly. "What…? I mean, it's good to see you, Captain – sir. Um, did you want some punch?"
Pike shook his head and led Tilly away from the commotion. Several people were now noticing that the Captain was present, but it didn't compute that anything was wrong.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have to ask. Do you have clearance from Commander Saru to use the Observatory?"
A dizzy look filled Tilly's face as her intoxicated eyes filled with uncertainty. She clearly remembered she hadn't asked, but she had no idea that she was supposed too!
"Saru?" she slurred. "I needed approval through Commander Saru, sir?"
Pike examined the redhead. She had none of the usual telltales. She really didn't know, but the fact that Tilly was well on her way to becoming fully blitzed did not help her cause. Did she understand that failure to adhere to standard protocols would reflect badly on her Command Training record? Perhaps, there was still time. Maybe if the crewmen cleared out now, she could avoid a black mark!
Sighing, Pike turned to Burnham and waved her over. Michael was on her feet before his index finger finished its flex. She felt terrible that she didn't think to ask if approval was necessary!
"Sir," she said approaching.
"Burnham – "said the Captain looking at Tilly, whose eyes were now drowning in self-doubt and tequila. "Let's call it a night, shall we? Do you think you can handle the guests? It would sound better coming from you."
Michael had no qualms with kicking everyone out. She could see that Pike was letting Tilly off the hook, or at least he was trying too. As for the mess, the ship was maintained by clean-bots, but maybe she'd get Stamets to help out a little. The sooner the Observatory was put back in order, the sooner she could go to bed!
"Yes, sir – gladly! I'll just escort Tilly to her quarters and come back."
Captain Pike quickly held up his hand.
"No, no. I'll do that, Burnham. Ensign Tilly and I need to have a chat. Just clear the room as soon as possible," he told her.