Author's Note: Written for pauraque in the Space Swap exchange.
Saru's description of events in "The Sound of Thunder" seems to differ slightly from what we actually see in "The Brightest Star", so I tried to fit stuff together as best I could. Hope you enjoy!
Guiding Light
Philippa jerks awake as the computer pings, indicating the completion of her latest round of testing. She blinks and rubs her eyes before leaning forwards to see the results.
She's been trying to decode this message for hours now, since the Archimedes first became aware of it. The universal translator is an amazing piece of technology, but it isn't perfect. This is an entirely new language, different from any the Federation has previously encountered, which means that she has to wait for the system to learn enough of the vocabulary and syntax to give her a sensible translation.
This attempt has offered up three possible interpretations, and her heart skips a beat as she reads the top, most likely one.
Is anyone out there? Please respond.
x x x
"A message in a bottle," Commander Bridges says, looking intrigued by her discovery. "It's the kind of thing we used to do, back in the 20th and 21st century. Sending messages out into space in the hope that someone would hear them." He snorts and adds, "Then of course it turned out the Vulcans were watching us the whole time."
"That was before we achieved warp flight," Philippa points out.
"Yes, but imagine the Vulcans hadn't been there, waiting to swoop in the second we broke the light barrier. We'd probably have continued sending out the same messages, hoping for someone to respond."
"So what should we do?" Philippa asks. "Send a reply?" Part of her mind is already working on it, deciding what she'd say if she could.
Bridges hands her PADD back and she takes it, running her eyes over the message as though the words aren't already burned into her memory.
"I can't see a brief response doing any harm," he says, "but you'd better check with the captain."
x x x
Captain Sharma studies the PADD with a raised eyebrow. "You're sure about this?" she asks.
"Yes, sir," Philippa replies. "I checked the results three times." She doesn't wait for a reply before continuing quickly, "Captain, we came out here to explore. If there's a being or beings out there trying to make contact with us, surely we owe it to ourselves to respond?"
Sharma shakes her head, giving a soft laugh. "Calm yourself, Lieutenant. I agree with you. I'll have the helm set a course for this system as soon as our current mission allows." She hands the PADD back and adds, "I'm putting you and Commander Bridges in charge of sending a response, but keep it brief. No details, especially not about Starfleet or the Federation. We don't know who we're dealing with here, so assume the Prime Directive is in force until we know it isn't."
Philippa can't quite keep the smile off her face. "Of course, Captain."
x x x
Starfleet has protocols for this situation, of course, but it still takes her and Bridges several hours to formulate a reply that is brief, hopeful, detail free, and unlikely to get lost in translation.
Hello. We are here. You are not alone.
x x x
There are a few more messages after that, carefully vague but no less heartfelt. This is what she joined Starfleet for, Philippa thinks, to go out into the stars and forge connections with other species, no matter how distant and different they may be.
Despite the captain's best efforts, it's nearly two months before they manage to wrangle a gap in their schedule long enough to check out the system the messages are coming from. Philippa keeps her impatience to herself – in her experience complaining never solves anything. Besides, it gives her time to get to know their correspondent better.
She learns that his name is Saru and his planet is called Kaminar. His descriptions of it are striking, and she longs to see it for herself. She's careful with her replies, of course, avoiding any mention of Starfleet or the Federation, but she does offer him her own name in response.
The first impressions as they approach Kaminar's system are positive, their sensors detecting not only the presence of multiple ships, but what can only be warp signatures. Philippa can feel her heart pounding in her chest as they get closer, sending out a hail in welcome. She doubts it'll be Saru answering them, but if all goes well she should be meeting him soon.
Of course, as every Starfleet officer knows, all very rarely goes well.
"They're scanning us, Captain," Lieutenant Rosenberg reports as they close in on the planet.
"Any response to our hails?"
"Not yet, sir," Philippa replies. Her fingers fly over the console, making adjustments. The display lights up suddenly, and her heart flips over. "They're responding on audio."
"Put it on," Sharma orders.
The response that comes through is brief, and far from welcoming. "You do not belong here. Leave at once."
"This is Captain Anji Sharma, of the Federation Starship Archimedes," the captain replies. "To whom am I speaking?"
"We are the Ba'ul. You are trespassing on our territory. You will leave."
"We're a science vessel, we come in peace. We received the messages you sent."
"We did not send any message. Leave now, or we will open fire."
"Perhaps you didn't, but someone did," Sharma presses, ignoring the threats. "It came from the planet below."
The barest hesitation, then, "That is impossible. Such technology is foreign to them."
"But couldn't it-"
"We will not ask you again," the voice interrupts, and Rosenberg's voice cuts in.
"Captain, they're powering weapons."
"All right, we get the message!" Sharma responds. "You can power down your weapons. We're leaving. Helm, reverse course, full impulse."
It's the sensible thing to do, but Philippa can't help but feel like she's been kicked in the chest. "Captain-"
"We'll discuss it later, Lieutenant," Sharma interrupts. "We're obviously not wanted here, and I don't know about you, but I have no desire to get into a firefight."
Philippa watches on her console as the Archimedes heads away from the planet. It seems like her dreams of visiting Kaminar, so close to fulfilment, have come to nothing. I'm sorry, Saru.
x x x
Captain Sharma calls Philippa into her ready room as soon as they're clear of the system. "So," she says, settling into the seat behind her desk. "That went well."
Her tone doesn't seem open to argument, but Philippa finds herself trying anyway. "Captain, we need to go back. Saru-"
"Is not our concern. If the Ba'ul are to be believed, the messages we've been receiving came from someone far below their level of technology. That means the Prime Directive is still in effect, and we cannot interfere."
"But if Saru's people don't have that level of technology, he must be using the Ba'ul's," Philippa counters. "To communicate with us like he did, using unfamiliar technology would require a remarkable mind."
"That's as maybe," Sharma replies. "But my hands are tied. I'm sorry."
Philippa's mind suddenly lights up. "What about asylum?" She hurries on without waiting for a response. "Saru took a great risk to contact us. If the Ba'ul find out he was the one who drew us here, using their own technology no less, it seems unlikely they won't retaliate. His life could be in danger."
Sharma sighs, rubbing her temples. "Lieutenant…"
Philippa digs her fingernails into her palms. "Please, Captain," she says. "We have to try."
The captain studies her silently for a moment, then shakes her head. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" she asks rhetorically. "Fine, I'll contact Starfleet and try to make a case for asylum. It's a long shot, but hopefully they'll see it your way."
x x x
Standing in front of Admiral Robau, laying out her communications with Saru and trying to explain why Starfleet should make an exception for him, is one of the most nerve-wracking things Philippa has ever done.
He grills her thoroughly, probing every weakness in her story, but to her eternal gratitude and surprise, eventually agrees to her proposal. It's on two conditions, however; one, that she avoid contact with anyone besides Saru, and two, that she accept that the mission will be officially off the record. In other words, if she gets caught, she's on her own.
It's a risk, but it's one she's willing to take. She sends one last message before they leave, short and to the point. Today. Be ready.
Then she heads to the shuttle, hoping with all her heart that she won't come back alone.
x x x
Starbase 7 is bustling as Philippa leads Saru towards the immigration desks. His eyes are wide, head turning in all directions as he tries to take everything in. She supposes it must be a little overwhelming, being surrounded by so many different species after a lifetime spent isolated on one planet.
She can see his knife tucked into his belt; a last gift from a sister he'll never see again, and is struck once more by the bravery required to do as he has done; to leave everyone and everything he has ever known in search of something more.
"They'll take care of you from here," she says, after she's gotten him logged in. "I need to get back to the ship."
Saru blinks at her. He's learned a little English during his stay on the Archimedes, but the universal translator still does most of the heavy lifting in their conversations. "Will I see you again?" he asks.
She really wishes she could say yes, but none of them know the future. "I hope so," she says instead, and holds out a data chip. "This has my comm number. If you ever want to contact me."
He takes it obediently, long fingers folding around the metal. "Like before," he says, tilting his head at her. "I would like that. Thank you."
She doesn't know if Kelpians have a concept of luck, but she says it anyway. "Good luck, Saru."
She's turning to leave when she hears her name. "Philippa?"
She turns back. "Yes?"
He looks at her, eyes big and bright. "Do you think I could join Starfleet one day?"
She can't stop the smile that spreads across her face. "I think you can do anything you put your mind to, Saru," she says. "You are extraordinary."
He doesn't seem to believe her, but that's all right, she thinks.
He will.
Eight years later
Saru smooths down his uniform nervously before stepping off the transporter platform. "Captain Georgiou," he greets. "It is an honour."
"Lieutenant Saru," she replies with a smile. "Welcome aboard. It's good to see you again."
She holds out her hand, the traditional human gesture of greeting, and he reaches to take it. "Likewise, Captain."
Her palm is warm against his, and for a moment everything seems to crystallise around that touch, a sudden overwhelming knowledge that this is where he is meant to be.
He releases her hand reluctantly, clasping his own behind him as he stands to attention. "I am ready to serve you, sir."
There's more he wants to say. He wants to say thank you – thank you for believing in me, fighting for me, giving me the opportunity to be more than what I was. He wants to say all of that and more, but words – in any language – seem lacking, insignificant.
Besides, from the look in her eyes, he thinks she knows.