Perspectives
By Laura Schiller
Based on: Star Trek: Discovery
Copyright: CBS
Author's Note: This story refers to events in the Short Treks film "The Brightest Star", but can still be read without it.
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Saru had been different since his illness had caused his threat ganglia to fall out. It was nothing a stranger would have noticed, but Michael knew him too well for even small details to escape her attention. He walked a little taller than before, as if no longer embarrassed about standing out from his shipmates. He tended to stand still at his station rather than pacing restlessly, and while he was still the first to point out the risky aspects of one of Captain Pike's plans, the anticipation of danger didn't cause him the same kind of physical discomfort.
One thing hadn't changed, though, she realized when she found him standing by her door one evening, with a large box tucked under one arm. She recognized that box.
As fond as she was of Tilly, Michael was suddenly glad that her roommate was still recovering from the spore incident in Sickbay. If she was right about what that box contained, this was going to be far too personal for anyone else to hear.
"Burnham? I mean, Michael? Will you … " He tilted his head and made a nervous clicking sound. "May I come in?"
He was still socially awkward. But then, so was she.
"Of course." She stepped back. "Um, is that … ?"
"Captain Georgiou's telescope? Yes, it is."
Saru placed it on the table and unlocked it, revealing the antique instrument tucked into its case. Michael looked down at it closely, locking her hands behind her back so she wouldn't leave fingerprints on the gleaming brass. The sight of it brought back memories of Captain Georgiou's ready room, listening to her tell stories about her family in Malaysia. She could almost smell green tea, hear jazz music on vinyl, and see her mentor's black eyes light up with pride and affection. She could almost feel the Captain's hand on her shoulder as she pointed out the stars outside the viewport. Look, Michael. Aren't they beautiful? Can you imagine how our ancestors would feel, knowing that what was a distant dream for them is now within our reach?
For a moment, Michael's fingers itched to grab that telescope back. But no. Absolutely not. She had given it to Saru and she would abide by that choice.
But why would he bring it here now?
"Is something wrong with it?" she asked. "You might want to take it to Engineering if that's the case, although I don't know whether … "
Saru held up a finger. She fell silent.
"It's in perfect condition, I assure you," he said, rather stiffly. "As a matter of fact, I came here because … well … " He clicked again, like a human clearing his throat.
"Yes?"
"Honestly, Michael," he said. "We both know Captain Georgiou left it to you, not me. And it would be the height of selfishness for me to hold a grudge about that after everything you and I have been through."
Michael had no idea what to say. She had to remind herself to breathe, let alone answer.
She had been rude to Saru for years when they'd served together aboard the Shenzhou. She'd made comments about his Kelpien biology, competed with him for Captain Georgiou's approval, even physically bumped him aside at the computer console. She'd betrayed him along with the Captain with her mutiny at the Binary Stars, and it was her fault that their mentor was dead. Later on, she had lied to Saru about his people being prey to the Terran Empire in the other universe. He still didn't know that his own counterpart had been the other Michael's valet, a fact that still made her skin crawl. It was perverse to make someone dress and bathe you for a formal dinner when you'd be eating one of his compatriots.
She still wished she had smuggled that man out via transporter as she had Ash and the Emperor. Then again, if she knew her Sarus, he probably belonged to a resistance movement of his own, and would have resented her for ruining his plans. At least, she hoped that was the case. The alternative didn't bear thinking about.
She was used to Saru holding a grudge against her. She considered it no more than she deserved. And he thought he had been the selfish one?
"You should have it," she whispered, her mouth dry. "You were always loyal – not just to her, but to what she stood for. You're not the one who … " Attacked her and overrode her direct order. Watched her die and killed the perpetrator, when capturing him alive might have prevented a war. You're not the one who failed her, Saru. I am.
"By the Balance, Michael, must you be so difficult?" Saru raised his prominent eyes to the ceiling and shoved the box across the table in her direction. She had to catch it with both hands to stop it from sliding off. "Have you not punished yourself enough? Can you not simply accept a peace offering when it's sitting right in front of you?"
She had never heard him using Kelpien idioms before. For the few seconds before the UT activated, she heard the echo of another language beneath the English words, one with throaty consonants and flowing vowels. At any other time, she would have asked permission to record him so she could study his language. Right now, though, undiplomatic as she was, even she knew better than to make such a request.
"I've always been difficult, Saru," she said wryly, shutting the lid on the telescope container and keeping both hands on it. "Isn't that why we get along so well?"
He snorted a laugh. "I believe our superiors would agree. Do you know what irritates me the most about you?"
That did not sound like a peace offering. She swallowed several nasty replies before settling on, "Must be a long list. I'm reckless, I pick holes in your work, I take up too much of our superiors' attention … "
"No. Well, yes, but all that is beside the point." Saru waved away seven years' worth of quarreling with one skinny hand. "What really grates on my nerves," he said, in a much gentler voice than his words would suggest, "Is how much you remind me of myself."
"Really?"
Michael was bewildered. On the surface, you couldn't think of two more opposite individuals. He was cautious; she was reckless. She had lost her birth parents in a war and done everything to make her foster-parents proud; he had left his family and all their beliefs behind. They even looked like opposites. But the more she thought about it, the more she could imagine what he meant.
She thought of all the things that had irritated her about Saru, and sometimes still did: the way he saw danger around every corner, always had to have the last word in an argument, refused to let anyone help when he was in trouble …
Damn, he's got a point. That does sound like me.
"Is that why … the other night in your quarters, when you were sick … " She blushed. It was somewhat awkward to bring up a tearful deathbed confession to someone who was back in perfect health. "Is that why you said I replaced your sister? Was she … is she like me?"
The word 'replaced' stung her more than she cared to admit. She did not want to be a replacement. Amanda's confession that she had used her foster-daughter as an outlet for the love she couldn't give Spock was still a sore point. How messy emotions were, even the positive ones; no wonder Vulcans chose to live without them.
"Yes and no," was Saru's answer. "Yes, in the sense that she was our parents' favorite and I could never live up to her … but no, because Siranna was – is – very much a traditional Kelpien woman. Gentle, obedient, earthbound … she'd never have left our village and I couldn't stay. I didn't even tell her where I was going in case she'd stop me."
Michael's heart ached in empathy. She couldn't decide for whom she felt more: the woman whose brother had disappeared without a word, or the man whose restless nature had driven him away from home and family. Was Siranna even still alive? If she was close to Saru in age, there was a chance that she'd already caught the vaharai and given herself up to be slaughtered. Unless it wasn't caused by age at all, but something else. The whole situation demanded looking into. Someday soon, once the red angels were dealt with. Whenever that might be.
"Will you go back for her? Now that you know the vaharai being terminal is a lie?"
Saru drew himself up and looked suddenly very stern. She didn't think much of the Ba'ul's chances against him in a conflict. The last time she had seen that look on his face, he'd been in the captain's chair and leading the Discovery through a firestorm. "As soon as my duty permits it, I will."
She knew it was a remote chance, but she did hope that he would set his sister and the rest of their people free someday. And that, in turn, left her free to feel a tiny bit relieved that he didn't just see her as a substitute Siranna.
"Spock isn't exactly like you either, by the way," she said. "You're easier to talk to."
Actually, Spock and Saru did have a few things in common. They were both scientists, both ambitious in their fields, both outsiders who felt pressured to succeed not just for themselves but for their respective races. Most of all, they were both fiercely defensive, keeping their vulnerable sides locked up behind a level-ten force field in case of attack. That kind of attitude was exhausting to deal with, especially for someone like Michael, who acted the same way. But if Saru could let those shields down around her, maybe someday Spock would do the same.
If she found him.
If he was still alive and sane.
"You will find him, Michael." Saru, empathic soul that he was, must have read her thoughts in her face, because he wrapped one long arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.
"You will reach him. You're the most infuriatingly stubborn person I've ever met. If anyone can get through to Mr. Spock, it will be you."
"Thanks a lot," she said, half sincere and half sarcastic, patting the arm that held her before she twisted away.
This physical confidence was another new thing about him. The old Saru would have never let anyone hold his hand or see him with his shirt off, but during his illness, he'd allowed her to do both. There was nothing sexual about it – he was far from being her type, and vice versa – but it was comforting. Brotherly, she supposed. Not that Spock had ever been like this, even as a child.
They stood together, looking down at the box that contained Captain Georgiou's telescope, which was still sitting on the table. She wondered if his thoughts were thoughts were following the same warp trail as hers. It was the logical solution, really. She could have thought of it much earlier.
"Saru?"
"Yes?"
"You were right," said Michael. "It doesn't matter which one of us has the telescope. What it meant to her was a sense of wonder, a joy in exploring the universe … and that's something we should share with everyone on board."
"Everyone?" Saru was scandalized. "Are you sure that's a good idea? What do you intend to do, set it up in the mess hall where every passerby can meddle with it?"
"Our shipmates are Starfleet officers, not toddlers. They know how to treat a scientific instrument with respect."
"It's over three hundred years old!"
Michael could already sense the discussion turning into one of the infamous arguments Captain Georgiou had teased them about – in a way, this pattern was almost as comforting as the hug earlier – but not today. She was just too glad to see him alive and well.
"We can always put up a plaque next to it explaining where it came from and how to handle it. Or even set up a force field, if you prefer."
"Hmm … " He clicked skeptically and frowned at the box. "I suppose that could work. That way Lieutenant Detmer could use it too, if she wishes."
Their fellow Shenzhou survivor. Of course. Trust Saru to remember her when Michael was wrapped up in her personal issues. Another annoying quality about him, and another reason they made such an excellent team.
"Shall we set it up now?" she suggested.
"All right."
They picked up the box, one carrying each handle, and maneuvered it cautiously through the doors. Michael watched Saru's narrow back moving ahead of her with a private smile, wondering how her past self would react if she could see them cooperating like this, still astonished by how much they had both changed.
You're my family, Saru. I love you. She could hardly believe those words had left her mouth, emergency or no. It was so unlike her. She'd never said it to her family (either of them), to Captain Georgiou or even to her ex-boyfriend, although I see you, Ash meant basically the same thing.
On the other hand, what if never having said it was all the more reason to start saying it? This way, at least one person knew what she thought of him.
A life like theirs was too short to keep each other guessing.