"We are being hailed," Januzzi said.
"On screen," Burnham said.
Captain Maranville appeared on screen.
"Captain Burnham, we are drawing the Klingons off," Maranville said. "that should keep them distracted long enough for the Shran and Europa to tow you back to safety. The Edison, Kerala and Clarke are going to be escorting you back."
Burnham was helpless sitting on the chair. The Shenzhou didn't have enough power for the phasers to operate. Her ship was limping. Only on nacelle remained. There was enough impulse power to aid them in a slow escape if they tried without help. If they jumped to warp, they would be going at warp factor one. So she slowly nodded. She watched a cackle of electricity go off in the background of the captain. She gripped onto the arm rest of the chair to control her anger. The tactics they used to deplete the Klingon fleet could be called clever, and extremely risky. They didn't have enough room in their brig to house any more Klingons. Burnham was not in her yellow uniform but in the green wraparound variation.
"And you, captain?" Burnham asked.
"Don't worry about me or my crew," Maranville said. "they are big kids. Can take care of themselves."
"We will honor your sacrifice," Burnham said.
"The best way you can honor me is get out of here in one piece and don't self destruct," Maranville said. "Starfleet always comes back for their own. Maranville out."
Burnham watched the Yeager vanish into the night sky taking the heat away.
The bridge returned to complete darkness.
The darkness faded as a door slowly opened to reveal the surroundings had changed to a bedroom. It was a generic one. The curtains were slid back to reveal Burnham with wild, curly black hair on her shoulders. She was in a long dress like outfit that seemed to be a various range of light purple. She sighed gazing toward the desert like scenery. A pack of sehlats were gathered resting on a plot of land. Burnham made her way toward her meditation mat. A familiar anchor that kept her mind at ease. She sat down then prepared to cleanse her thoughts that had came up in her mind during rest. The chaotic thoughts slipped away. Relief smoothly came over her mind. A familiar, welcoming kind.
Burnham eased herself up then prepared her outfit of the day. Then prepared herself a cool, comforting shower. A cool colored dress with long sleeves. Not everyone on Vulcan wore long sleeves. There were few who decided to brave the hot weather and the sandy environment on their long treks with short sleeves depending on how hot it was that day. The ringing from the comn terminal drew her attention off what she was about to do. She came to the machine alongside the bed then tapped on it, gently. Georgiou appeared at a table with her hands in her lap.
"Morning, Michael," Georgiou said.
"Greetings, T'hy'la," Burnham greeted, warmly.
"I need some advice," Georgiou said.
Burnham raised a eyebrow skeptically.
"Did Saru get thrown out of another command because of his anxiety?" Burnham then added with a concerned tone, as clone to concern that a Vulcan could. "Again."
"No. He has not," Georgiou said. "He is behaving himself."
"Then what is it?" Burnham asked.
"I am having family problems," Georgiou said.
"What kind are they?" Burnham asked.
"They don't like what I am doing in this war," Georgiou said.
"You are part of the war council," Burnham said. "war is difficult."
"But is it justified?" Georgiou asked.
"Depending on the situation," Burnham sad.
"Then it is just not justified. I am doing what is right. Not what a Earthly War General would do."
"You are doing better than a war general, Pippa." Burnham said.
"Eight thousand people have died so far because of this war," Georgiou said.
Burnham folded her arms turning toward the window.
"That is disheartening," Burnham said.
"Which brings me to the inevitable. We are getting desperate. We have to end this war. My brothers don't like what I am going to do," she looked down toward her hands. Burnham slowly came toward the woman's front then placed her hands around the hologram's cupping around them. "things are growing in starfleet and they seem rotten. The reports I read. . . We have to do it during a war. . . It's going to be a mess when it is over. It's like a wild fire. Everything we do, everything we do only makes it stronger and go on."
"Philippa Wang Georgiou, calm down," Burnham said, regaining her attention. "If you are doing what is right. . . then you don't need to worry."
"I wish I thought like you," Georgiou said.
"Not allowing emotions to control you is the Vulcan way," Burnham said. "It would help you a lot during the war."
"Emotions help me deal with what is going," Georgiou said.
"I don't like war just as you do," Burnham said. "You can put it to rest by telling your brothers how you feel. I have learned . . ." she placed her hands in the shape of the mind meld along the woman's face. "that it is very beneficial."
"Thank you for listening," Georgiou said.
"Any time you wish," Burnham said, with a slight nod drawing her hands away.
Georgiou vanished from the bedroom. Burnham made her way out of her quarters to the kitchen. Her new adopted siblings, all of which came into the family after her entrance to Starfleet, ranged in age from eight to twelve. They had different variations of the Vulcan bowl cut and in new variations of the Vulcan Learning Center's uniform. They were, instead, in yellow uniforms. The yellow outfit made them blend in with the scenery of Vulcan sands. Her time on Vulcan had proved helpful in repairing the damage done to her familiar bonds. In all of her career, she hadn't been on the brink of death that close since Sarek saved her life. Burnham got to know the newcomers quite well in the past six months.
They were so different and yet so unique compared to her.
They were respective about her and curious about her time on the Shenzhou.
Sarek and Amanda had gone up and left on a Starfleet emergency leaving her to care for the children.
Amanda taught linguistics at the Vulcan Learning Center.
A class that she was passionate about.
Amanda sometimes had a "brainfart" when it came to words and instead said it in another language. It was amusing at times to see her that way. Though Burnham suspected that Amanda had began to pretend that she forgot in order to make her laugh when alone with her. It was what eased her transition to being Vulcan and less human. In private, she could be emotional as she want. Sarek had gathered a collection of children after adopting her and then came across Amanda. Those familiar bonds formed over time with some help on Sarek's side. Burnham cared for the children. Sarek would never admit that he appreciated having someone from the family taking care of the children during abrupt emergencies but Amanda would say it bluntly. Taking care of others had helped in some part finding who Burnham was. A leader? A scientist? A soldier? A mother? A teacher? A caretaker? She wasn't quite sure. But she wasn't Michael Burnham of the S'chn T'gai Clan. Although she was sure of supervising children was a similar task to overseeing a group of colonists.
"Good morning, sister," T'Shay greeted.
"Morning, little brother," Burnham said, setting the table.
"Did you see the new entry about the sapient anomaly?" T'Shay asked, earning a head raise from Burnham.
"Sapient anomaly?" Burnham repeated.
"It is like a gas cloud," T'Shay said.
"Quite fascinating," Burnham said. "Sapient gas clouds. . . The'lik, set the table," the tall Andorian/Klingon like child grabbed the forks. "That must be in the attention of the Vulcan Science Academy."
"No, it was discovered by a federation vessel in the middle of battle," T'Shay said. "It converged the Klingons into matter." Burnham turned raising a eyebrow, concerned, as she handed the bowls to the children. "And then it. . . burped out the bird of prey. Without anything to study from the cloaking device. Completely destroyed. The Klingons bodies were no where in sight."
"And this was. . ." Burnham said.
"Last week," T'Shay said, as The'lik finished setting the table. "It calls itself. . SamIam."
"Sam I am," Burnham said. It clicked. "That's a Dr Seuss character."
"Dr Seuss?" T'Shay asked.
"It's a beginners book," Burnham said. "You will have to give it a read."
"Perhaps so," T'Shay said. "I will give it a look."
"It is a unique read," Burnham said. "I believe Amanda hid it . . somewhere. . . around here."
"Mother hiding books?" T'Shay said.
"How else do you think she keeps the books preserved?" Burnham asked.
"I always thought she somehow copied it and threw the old material away," T'Shay said. "I have now found that it would have been a waste of resources. Given the state of being the books were when I last handled them, it would have been illogical to throw them away."
"Correct," Burnham said, preparing the children's breakfast. "Have you fed the sehlat?"
"Sehlat's been fed," The'lik said.
"Uh huh," added the shortest of them all. A tallerite/Vulcan like hybrid.
"Anyway," T'Shay said. "The Vulcan Science Academy is very interested in the gas being and plans to send some scientists there to study it long term."
Burnham finished the individual breakfeast for children then placed the the food onto their plates. Burnham prepared her plomeek soup then sat down among the children. What was left of the morning food was a empty series of plates and bowls set on the counter. The children went off to take their showers. The sehlat in the center of the living room. Burnham performed her duties taking care of the dishes by hand. She had a rhythm. One that she had fine tuned to the schedule of the children. She found herself missing putting away the trays to be recycled in the past six months. Her dreams had flashes of the Shenzhou here and there. It felt strange to be planet side. She rubbed her shoulders looking off to see the shape of T'Khut in the distance. There, on that planet, was a Vulcan facility. Burnham thoroughly cleaned her hands after the last bowl. The children came down the hall with their knapsacks. Burnham had a small smile on her face seeing the children lining themselves up accordingly.
And then there was a knock at the door.
A rapid, urgent knock.
The children looked over in the direction of Burnham in confusion.
"Remain calm," Burnham said.
Burnham made her way down the hall. She pressed a button and the doors slid open to reveal Vulcan guards.
"Michael Burnham?"
"Yes, this is her."
"Your starfleet commission has been reactivated. You have been drafted."
"I require a caregiver for the children,"
"T'Pau has taken care of that,"
Burnham raised a eyebrow tilting her head all the slightest then turned toward the children who seemed to be heartbroken. T'Pau's hand in the situation either meant it wasn't Admiral Georgiou but someone else higher up. This was the perfect time for Sarek to have a problem handled by someone else. There were times where he handed most of Burnham's problems to Amanda, at least ones that he could not help in. Though Burnham had some doubt that her father had requested her comission be activated again.
"Upon my return, you must have read Green Eggs and Ham," Burnham said.
"We shall," the children said in unison.
Burnham turned her attention away from the children.
"Before I go, I will need my boots on," Burnham said.
There are some humans who say "Nothing better with jumping in with your boots on a mess,"
Michael understood that phrase even better than she had seven years ago.
The shuttle craft took her up to the large starship.
A Crossfield class.
Now in plain view, out of danger, not behind screen.
It resembled a IDIC symbol with nacelles.
It was quite a fascinating, breath taking sight.
Up close, she was able to see the gaps in the enter. It had a Klingon like figure to it rather than a federation kind of vibe. The shuttle craft flew into the hangar. The hangar was massive and wide. The Shenzhou's shuttle bay was smaller at best. The shuttle craft came to a gentle landing. The side doors opened. Burnham walked out of the shuttle with her hands in her sleeves. She had switched from her morning outfit into a two piece out fit that consisted of a short sleeved shirt and figure fitting pants. Her hands were linked behind her back walking down the stairs. The other officers opened the back end where only one duffle bag was laid inside. Burnham was handed the duffle bag.
Through the doors came out the security officer. Her eyes went to the woman's unlinked hands. Correction, first officer.
"Greetings," Burnham said, holding her unlinked hand up with the ta'al sign.
"Hello, I am Commander Landry," Landry said. "You are the assigned second officer. Welcome to the Discovery, Commander Burnham." she gestured toward the door stepping aside. "Right this way."
Burnham walked after the commander.
Together they walked through curved, lighter corridors. There was a bulky comn panel on the wall. She observed the white ceiling. There were no rafters compared to the older classes. There was no lines in the walls yet there were wide black screens on them. High tech and decorated with touch screens only said that it had to go back for repairs a lot. More often than the Shenzhou had to get when it came to updating its systems and stations. Short term missions were likely required for this kind of vessel. The intensity of the light seemed slightly off. Not as bright as a normal starship.
"Captain Lorca has photo-sensitivity," Landry said. "Otherwise, we would have a much brighter hall."
"Light intensity," Burnham said.
"I was the only one who didn't look," Landry said. "His penance for losing the Buran."
"The Buran," Burnham said. She recalled the image of the Einstein class on the screen in the mess hall. All eyes were laid on it. Georgiou's eyes remained focused on the image as it appeared on the screen with hands clasped together on the table. The look on Georgiou's face easily said she didn't believe a word. And now she understood it was wise to follow that same belief. "I heard that vessel got lost in a deep space triangle."
"Now that is not true," Landry said. "The truth is, the captain, I, and senior officers of the ship managed to escape during the battle. Lorca had to self-destruct the ship in order to not let the crew fall into the hands of Klingons."
"Why was that not reported?" Burnham asked.
"Starfleet believed the Klingon attacks would go away," Landry said. "Too late to rectify that mistake in public." Landry came to a stop at a doorway. "These are your quarters," she nodded. "The places you are assigned to as second officer will be in the file."
"Places," Burnham said.
"You are a xenoanthropologist," Landry said. "Whatever you may be doing on your own time will be easy enough to put aside. See you later."
Landry walked away then Burnham walked in front of the doors.
The doors opened before her to a different quarters. There were two beds across from each other. On both sides of the room there was windows that showed space. The quarters were colorful compared to the white hall lacking anything other than black. The walls were themed in purple. There were even purple plants around the small room as decoration. There was a sonic shower door, uniform synthesizer, and cabinets. Burnham stepped into the quarters. It was quite a spacious quarters. It was similar to a room ensigns had to share with another ensign. Burnham stopped once making her way over toward the small table. The only way she could be sharing a room with a ensign was if her rank had been reduced. But since she had been acknowledged by Commander-it didn't make sense. The beds were equally red and sparkling different from the light purple bedding that Burnham was used to. The doors wooshed open. A young woman in a red uniform jumped onto her bed then turned on her side. Burnham sensed something from her. It was fascinating. Like a link. Sometimes it hurt to be psi-positive the way she was with the high ESP rating.
"Greetings," Burnham said.
The young woman bolted up.
"Ohmigod, I am sorry, I didn't notice you, you're my roommate? Ohmigod, I have a roommate!"
"That I am," Burnham said.
"Ensign Sylvia Tilly," Tilly said.
"Michael Burnham," Burnham said,
"Isn't that a man's name?" Tilly asked.
"It was," Burnham said, coming over to the opposite bed. "but now it is who I am."
"Oh," Tilly said, as it dawned on her. She smiled back at the woman. "Well it certainly fits you."
"Thank you," Burnham said.
"I talk too much when I get nervous," she fiddled with her fingers as she continued. "I just graduated the academy, top of my class, and I was so excited to go down into deep space months ago. That was before the war happened . . . Space. . . . It's mysterious and theoretical engineering can be applied. Mom hasn't been supportive of that and thinks, actually tells me, that I would do better as a hair stylist." Tilly had a laugh as she sat on the edge of her bed. "Me, a hair stylist? She is insane."
"Hair stylists enjoy talking and normally are very social people," Burnham said. "It is not a insane thought."
"Most stylists I met are not talkative," Tilly said.
Burnham shrugged.
"Some people are talkative and some people are not," Burnham said. "I am biased."
"So am I," Tilly said. "So what is your rank?"
"I am not entirely sure," Burnham said.
"I asked a little too much for a roommate," Tilly said. "I just, really, really, really like company."
"I do not mind being company to a ensign in a time of war," Burnham said. "Perhaps I do need some stress relief. . ." her eyes glanced off toward the distance. "Surak knows when meditation will fail me."
"Black alert. Black alert. Black alert." came the female voice from over the intercomn.
Tilly turned onto her bed landing on her side and became quiet.
"Black alert?" Burnham said, puzzled.
Burnham rubbed her shoulder, a habit that she picked up from rubbing it when it felt sore.
"Spore drive," Tilly said.
Spore drive?
Her arm was now in working order.
The recovery time it took to get it working again had taken some time. Slow but gradual and very elating on her state of mind. Burnham looked over to see light blue like ice growing on the windows. She stared at it in confusion. Why would lightning bugs be doing out there above Vulcan? This wasn't the place they wouldn't be. It wasn't that deep into space. Burnham walked over toward the uniform synthesizer then pressed on the buttons. The machine scanned her with blue light. It beeped. She slid open the small square door. There was her uniform. Burnham carefully took it out placing it onto the table. She looked over toward Tilly then back toward the uniform. She slid out of her Vulcan robes. She turned on the computer after getting dressed. A mirror image of her appeared displaying the blue and black outfit. The metal insignia on her chest. Her ranking laid on her sleeves. Burnham felt eyes on her. Burnham looked over to see Tilly under the red covers.
Burnham picked up her padd then checked on what was sent to her.
Perhaps then things will make sense.
She didn't mind having a roommate.
It was nice for a change no longer being in command.
But it didn't make sense why she was bunked up with a ensign.
Was she the only transfer to the ship as of this month that could be afforded?