She wasn't smiling any more.
In fact, it was an effort just to stay awake. With the completion of her initial comm checks, system updates and shipwide status reports, Lieutenant Marie Devereux once more found herself parked in front of her COM station with nothing to do. She hated this part of the duty shift, hated sitting at her console trying to pretend that she was doing something constructive when she was actually just struggling to fight boredom. One would think that things would be more exciting on Alpha Shift …
She let her eyes wander as she sat there and, as happened far too often, she found herself watching her fellow bridge staff. It was a little quirk of hers, a guilty pleasure that she got out of deciphering personal interactions more through unconscious body language than from what the person actually said. So much could be learned that way, much more than a lot of people knew.
Like Dan Hsiao, for example. Discreetly, she looked over the helmsman as she reflected on his unique body language. He was nowhere nearly as complicated as he thought he was, and the open way he smiled at her or watched her lips or unerringly made eye contact when he talked to her told her everything she needed to know about him. Truth be told, Marie was flattered by his obvious attraction to her and, had she not already been involved with Drahn, would have seriously considered starting something with Dan. He was smart and cute and made her laugh, even when she didn't want to. If she really thought about it - and she had once or twice - he was probably her best friend on Endeavour and seemed to know exactly when she needed to be cheered up.
From the NAV station, she glanced at the bridge engineering station - recently rechristened the Damage Control station - and nearly frowned at the DCO's bowed head. Allison Li's relationship with the COB was immensely complicated and Marie had wasted entirely too much time trying to figure it out. At times, their body language screamed torrid love affair, with one or both of them totally open and vulnerable toward the other. Just as often, however, she halfway expected them to tear each other apart in a frenzy of murderous rage. It was at those times that she made sure she wasn't in the vicinity.
Her eyes drifted to the TAC station and she nearly flinched at Lieutenant Commander Eisler's blank expression as he studied his board with a frightening intensity. She'd interacted with the new tactical officer only twice since he came aboard ten days ago and, in her opinion, that had been about three times too many. Initially, she'd been fascinated at his seeming lack of body language, at the fact that he gave no hint as to what he was thinking, at the realization that even Commander T'Pol gave more of a clue to her emotional state than he did; but one glimpse into his eyes - those cold, dead eyes - had caused that fascination to flee, screaming, never to return. She quickly turned her attention toward someone who didn't terrify her.
Captain Tucker and Commander T'Pol were always a joy to observe. It was an open secret that they shared quarters and, from the moment he'd assumed command, Tucker had let it be known that he planned to ignore Starfleet's non-frat policy as long as it didn't affect shipboard duties. There had been a couple of incidents in the first couple of days between crewmembers where he had been forced to intervene, but since then it had been surprisingly smooth sailing. At times, Marie was almost convinced the unlikely couple shared some sort of telepathic communication, had such a thing been possible; it was simply amazing how they could carry on entire conversations with little more than looks or gestures or single words. Even now, as Captain Tucker lounged in the Command Chair with a PADD bearing shipboard status reports in hand and Commander T'Pol busied herself at the SCI board, they looked as though they were having a silent discussion: every now and then, the captain would shoot the Vulcan science officer an amused half-smile, as if she had just said something he found funny, or Commander T'Pol would glance in his direction with a cocked eyebrow or bemused expression on her face.
It really was the oddest thing ...
"Dropping out of warp," Dan suddenly announced from the NAV station and Marie quickly returned her attention back to her board before a senior officer noticed her apparent lack of work and decided to volunteer her for something.
"Let's have a look," Captain Tucker ordered as he lowered the PADD. Devereux heard Commander T'Pol's fingers tapping out commands and the vid-display came to life. Glancing up, she felt her breath catch.
She was familiar with the contours of the Vigrid Station; having originally been constructed by Vulcans, it looked no different from any other such station aside from its general state of disrepair. But Vigrid Station was different; in a word, it looked ... old.
Parked in a near-geosynchronous orbit above a dead planetoid, it immediately brought to mind a Vulcan ringship writ on a massive scale. The hull of the station was a dull metallic brown that had long since lost its luster; thousands of small impact craters from micrometeorites pockmarked the outer hull, giving it a battered and abused look. Instead of acting as an enclosing warp nacelle, however, the ring that surrounded the station served as an immense docking facility and was connected to the station proper by hollow columns housing equally ancient turbolifts and walkways. Like a great spoked wheel, the docking ring spun slowly around the station, completing a revolution every eight hours.
Hundreds of small ships surrounded the mammoth station, docking and undocking, loading and unloading cargo. Despite the appearance of age, Vigrid Station - Thor's Cradle to the Boomers - was a thriving hub, a port of call for those individuals who wanted to eke out a living among the stars at their own pace, under their own rules.
But it was not the station itself that captured Marie's attention. A massive nebula half-engulfed the system, narrowly limiting approach and exit vectors for warp-capable ships, and the colors it radiated were mesmerizing. Feathers of scarlet and gold stretched out over a stellar blanket of blue and green, swirling together in pockets of ionized gas that sparkled and flashed intermittently. The system's sun - a young orange-red main sequence star- was partially obscured by the gaseous field but glinted brightly, a stark reminder of its presence.
It was beautiful.
"Now that's a sight to see," Captain Tucker commented softly, his eyes glued to the viewscreen. For a long moment, the bridge was silent as the crew members were lost in their thoughts, amazed at the wonder of nature; but the moment passed. "Hail the station, lieutenant," the captain said, his voice reminding them once more that they were officers on a warship. "Let 'em know we've arrived." Marie's console beeped as she began to obey.
"Sir," she announced after a moment. "We're being hailed." She blinked. "It's a Vulcan ship." Tucker paused, his hand hovering over the intraship comm, and shot a look at Commander T'Pol. The Vulcan looked up from her own display.
"It is the Ti'Mur," she said and the captain blinked in what appeared to be surprise. More unspoken communication passed between them and Tucker shrugged, as if T'Pol had made some sort of comment. Marie wished they would stop that.
"On screen," he said, straightening his duty jacket as he spoke. A white-haired Vulcan appeared on the display and the captain suddenly smiled. "Soval! What are you doin' in our neck o' the woods?"
"Captain Tucker." The Vulcan inclined his head in a slight nod. "Administrator Maddox requested Vulcan mediation for your negotiations. I trust you will inform Commodore Archer regarding my presence?"
"Oh yeah," the captain said with a broad grin. "I'll let him know." He shot T'Pol a look that Marie recognized as two people sharing an inside joke. Even the commander looked amused ... for a Vulcan, anyway.
"Then I shall see you on-station, captain." Soval's eyes flickered to T'Pol and Devereux saw an unspoken acknowledgement flash between them. "Soval out." The screen returned to the spectacular system view.
"All right, Lieutenant Hsaio," Tucker said, his grin fading as he reasserted his rank. "Take us in. Devereux, hail the station." He rolled his tongue inside his cheek and shot T'Pol another look.
"Commodore Archer will not be pleased," the Vulcan deadpanned and Captain Tucker nodded.
"I know." He grinned. "Can't wait to tell him."