"We rescued a sole survivor from a escort vessel," Landry said, as she walked down the hall with Burnham. Medical officers in a group split up then walked around the two meeting up behind behind them. "Their vessel was heavily damaged on the trip, their colleagues are dead, and the vessel requires more a days worth of repairs."
"I understand," Burnham said. "Where does this bring me in?"
"This is a first contact situation," Landry said. "The captain might be light sensitive but he doesn't enjoy being in pitch black." Burnham raised a eyebrow.
"So they have bad photosensitive eyes than he?" Burnham asked.
"Not necessarily," Landry said. "They see better in the dark."
"That is quite. . . fascinating," Burnham remarked.
"You should be familiar to these species," Landry said.
"Just how should I be?" Burnham asked.
"Very," Landry said. "you were part of the observation group last year."
"I was part of many observation groups in my career about the Shenzhou," Burnham replied.
"You'll know which one as soon as you go in," Landry turned then came to a stop in front of the doors. "They refuse medical attention," she handed the woman a communicator. "and refuse talking to me or being on the bridge."
"I see what you need," Burnham said. "I will see what I can do." she looked down toward the communicator then back. "I have been meaning to ask . . . Is this a prototype for the upcoming model?"
"Everything aboard this ship is a prototype," Landry said. "Glitches don't win wars. I won't be surprised if they give the Discovery a major overhaul after the war." she gestured in toward the doors. "After you."
Burnham walked into the conference room. She placed the communicator onto the table after fiddling with it to automatically begin translating as soon as the survivor started speaking. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness in the room. The individual was huddled in the corner of the room in a dark outfit that seemed rather homey than being a explorer in space. She sat down into the chair, waiting, for the other to begin speaking. The survivor's eyes turned toward the second officer. Burnham's eyes observed a humanoid like figure of the survivor. The survivor had large, furry ears. The survivor spoke, and then, the universal translator began working.
"Hello. . ." came a low pitched yet male like voice.
Burnham had a comforting, warm look in her eyes.
"Krikri, greetings," Burnham said, holding the ta'al up.
The Krikri shaking stood up and held up a furry hand that had three long fingers with a small pinkie finger.
"Who are you?" the krikri asked.
"I am Commander Burnham of the starship Discovery," Burnham said. "I come in peace."
The Krikri, weakly, dragged himself over to the chair across from Burnham then sat down into it.
"I was one of the test pilots making sure it flew," the Krikri's small, dark eyes tightly closed then opened. "Do you know how easy a Krikri can die during battle? When metal is falling, stations explode, and being tossed around. . ." He looked down toward the table. "Pinned down by a door and other wall paneling. Unable to move from the sudden blast. Being squeezed by the very thing that was said to protect you. Their screams being loud and scared. I couldn't help them. It was so bright. I couldn't see what was going on around me. But their screams. . ." the camera turned toward Burnham. The sounds of screams were in the background in Burnham's mind. The announcement over the comn to go down to safety that slowly faded to background noise. "The screams told me all."
"Do you have a name?" Burnham asked. The camera turned attention toward the krikri.
"Par'two," came the reply. "It meant helper. And I do not deserve that name."
"That's hard of you to say about yourself," Burnham said. "everyone deserves a name."
"A name is a gift given by your family. . . I welcome the name Krikri," Krikri said. "It is unfortunate that first contact be started this way. The first warp drive." he lowered his head down toward the table. "I wasn't supposed to be the one speaking with a alien."
"What is, is," Burnham said. "the Discovery is following your warp trail and we will return you home."
"What is there to return to?" Krikri asked, his dark marble eyes looking back at her.
"That you're not alone," Burnham said. "You came out to meet new life. You met one."
Krikri looked up.
"You look like a monkey without hair all over," Krikri said.
"You look like a bat," Burnham said.
"So we're are both aliens to each other," Krikri said.
"Indeed," Burnham said. She noticed a hand was still on his waist. "You need medical attention."
"I need a lot of things," Krikri said. "my crew."
"Your crew would want you to live," Burnham said. "and if they were in your shoes. . . they would wish they gave their own in exchange for you."
Krikri nodded then looked up toward the woman.
"Would they?" Krikri said.
"I know the first crew I became acquainted to would," Burnham said. "No matter the circumstance."
"Gollard, I am not a veterinarian," Culber said.
"Well, I am not the one who treated a Vulcan Sand Cat and returned it to Admiral Anderson, now am I?" Gollard said.
"That cat needed surgery," Culber argued. "Just because you wanted to operate on it doesn't mean you won't have another opportunity."
"Those cats are extremely rare. They rarely get sick and donated to the Starfleet academy," Gollard argued. "So you are doing the bat."
"I specialize in xenobiology. One in which I know where the organs are supposed to be," Culber said. "This is different."
"The cat says you must do it," Gollard said.
"I would do it had I know if anything is there that shouldn't be," Culber said.
"You're a doctor, Culber," Gollard said, with a little wave. "Have fun operating on him."
"How did you convince the CMO anyway?" Culber asked, bewildered.
"Charm!" Gollard said, as he exited the operating room.
In a orange flare of light reappeared on the operation table a resting bat like figure. Burnham had a hand on Krikri's shoulder. A nurse came into the room along with a rolling cart that had several medical tools laid on it. Burnham clenched the alien man's shoulder. Culber held up the small rounded tricorder that alarmingly beeped over Krikri's chest. He raised a eyebrow at the characteristics of the Krikri looking down toward the furry hands. He raised both eyebrows as he slid off the boots to see the feet were similar to the hands except smaller and not as long. Some of the long toes were flattened down as though there was no bone left inside of it to keep it up.
"I will be here when you wake up, Krikri," Burnham reassured the bat like man who's eyes were closed.
"Promise?" Krikri asked, his head turned in the direction of her voice.
"I shall," Burnham reiterated, as Culber was handed a hypospray.
Culber applied the hypospray to the side of Krikri's neck.
"Thank you," Krikri said, as his demeanor relaxed and his hand fell from the side of the biobed.
Burnham turned toward Culber to notice his eyes were lit as though he were smiling when he was not.
"Is there something amusing about this situation?" Burnham asked, then Culber raised his hand up.
"I am just happy that you're not the one on the operation table," Culber said. He lowered his hand. "I will call you when he does wake up."
Burnham nodded then made her way out of the operation room where the doors closed behind her.
Landry's request came through the line down in engineering. The request was simple. Make a device that allowed Krikri to walk around without needing the ship to be engulfed into darkness. Ensign Decker, a bright eyed young man, was working with Tilly to make the object. He was planning to transfer tracks into command. To follow his dad's footsteps was his greatest dream. To captain a starship, out there, exploring space and making new friends along the way. He was a excellent engineer. Burnham finally returned to her station a bit without the KriKri. Burnham looked over noticing the two. She returned to her task looking for the incorrect code that didn't belong.
From the shuttle bay, the unusual space craft was being repaired by the higher ranked engineers. The starship was being reverse engineered using what pieces were left to put back together acting as a puzzle. Piece by piece was put back together. Body by body was put into available stasis pods for burial under the supervision of Burnham, a brief departure from her duties, looking on stoically toward the fallen bat like creatures. The small ship's lighting was returned to darkness. The scene goes over to sick bay that had created prosthetic feet that then are applied to Krikri's stubs. It was designed with artificial hair capable of growing like hair would.
Culber documented his surgery. First contact and first surgery on a Krikri all in one day. He had to perform autopsy on them to get a better idea if his surgery went smoothly. Comparing and contrasting the after-math of the surgery with Krikri's condition eased his mind. Seeing his partner applying toothpaste to the tooth brush in the shared bathroom was what relaxed him. Eased him, domestically. It was his favorite activity of the day with Stamets. Stamets looked over, with the soft look at Culber. A smile went with it.
"How was your day?" Culber asked, coming to Stamets's side.
"Burnham is more comfortable in her body, again," Stamets said. "and I think her mushroom side-effect is gone," Culber looked over with a smile on his face listening to him. "Last time I noticed Ephraim was observing the see-in-the-light helmet that Decker and Tilly. It was nearly complete. It's nice for a change to be at warp. Away from the war, for now. . ." He looked over toward Culber. "How about you, my dear doctor?"
"I got to operate on the Krikri," Culber said. "first operation in Starfleet history."
"Way to go, Hugh!" Stamets bumped against Culber's shoulder.
Culber spat into the sink then leaned himself up.
"Eh, Gollard could have done better," Culber said. "He is trained to specialize on animals."
"You are the best doctor I know," Stamets said. "You did a good job."
"Did I?" Culber asked. Stamets put his cleaned toothbrush into the holder alongside Culber's toothbrush. "I could have made mistakes for all I know in the surgery."
"Hey," Stamets said, softly, placing a hand onto the side of Culber's face. "If you made any mistakes then you would have known right away during that surgery," a big grew on Culber's face. "So you didn't make any mistakes far as I am concerned." Culber's free hand went to Stamet's side.
"I must be blessed to be in love with some one like you," Culber said.
"I am the devil's cigar that you stumbled upon at Alpha Centauri," Stamets said.
"You are not the rarest mushroom to come across," Culber said. "You are a devil stinkhorn and that's final."
Culber placed a kiss onto Stamet's lips. Stamet's other hand clasped onto the other side of Culber's face. Culber kept himself balanced with his free hand still on the edge then his hand came to Stamet's waist. The red PJ uniform was like silk. Comfortable to the touch with skin barely visible at the back of it. Stamets was the one who broke the kiss off backing off from Culber with heart like eyes back at him. Stamets took Culber by the hand leading him out of the bathroom.
Lorca stared at the resting Krikri in the darkly lit sick bay. The sick bay was barely occupied. Not many of the nurses were on duty. Lorca was in a short sleeved variation of his captain's shirt but it was green and velcrowed. There was a thick black line where the velcrow began and where it ended. His golden rank bronzed on the sleeves. He was leaned against the wall to the private recovery quarters that were booked for Krikri.
"Captain," Soval said, coming to Lorca's side. "You should not be up so late."
"I had to see who our potential ally is going to be," Lorca said. "Or what, for that matter."
"I don't think they are going to help us with the nasty war going out there," Soval said. "Logic says they vulnerable, new, and curious," Soval turned toward Lorca. "Have you seen that submarine out there?"
"They haven't worked out the kinks of paint," Lorca said.
"That vessel is. . ." Soval shook his head. "Only thirteen people can fit in there."
"It's a flying boat," Lorca said. "What do you expect?"
"A little more of a design to it," Soval said. "Otherwise a good sick bay for them. They didn't bring a doctor. Quite . . . ill equipped for space."
"They are a bold species," Lorca said.
"As are yours," Soval said. "His body is still adjusting for the aftermath of the surgery. I read the brain scans. A miracle that he didn't get brain trauma."
"We got lucky," Lorca said, his arms folded. "I don't like that."
"Captain," Soval said. "Is there something on your mind keeping you up?"
"Yes," Lorca said. "We are getting closer to his home planet. Four day ride. Away from the war. Honestly," he shrugged. "I should be happy."
"You are not because the Glenn is still being staffed and there could be vulnerable colonies," Soval said.
"Yes," Lorca said. "We have been at this for five months. I see hope that the next day we can end this war. Go back to being explorers. . ." he looked on sadly toward the Krikri. "And no more Klingons attacking innocents."
Soval nodded.
"I understand," Soval said.
Lorca turned toward Soval.
"Do Vulcans get drunk?" Lorca asked.
"That's a complicated question," Soval said.
"Not complicated when it comes to drinks," Lorca said.
"No," Soval said.
"I'll get drunk and you listen," Lorca said. Soval had a look of realization.
"Oh, so the usual then," Soval said. "I will bring the newly replaced alcohol," he started to turn but he stopped. "Have you talked to Admiral Cornwell regarding your concerns about being part of first contact missions recently?"
"She is asleep by now on Earth," Lorca reminded.
"Right," Soval said. "I will get the drinks." And Soval left the contemplating captain.
