You Are the Desert

by Almedha

When the Voyager goes missing, one lieutenant JG on the Enterprise takes it especially hard. Unfortunately, one cannot control what one does not first possess. - Featuring primarily Taurik of TNG: Lower Decks.

4. Shared Vocabulary

Chapter 4: Shared Vocabulary

Taurik slid his bowl of soup onto the table and sat across from Sam without saying anything.

Sam didn't know they were meeting. Even if they were, Taurik didn't usually come all the way up to the deck two mess—they typically met halfway in Ten Forward. For a few seconds, he was dumbfounded… but Taurik gave him plenty of time to recover.

He looked exhausted—which was more worrying than anything. He'd never known him to be tired in three years, even the one time he stayed up studying for five entire days in a row.

Sam didn't know what to say. That wasn't normally the case… But it had been almost two weeks since they'd talked, because Taurik had been avoiding him. Avoiding everything that Sam could tell.

Twelve days since the Voyager went missing.

"Hi?" Sam said, because Taurik just stirred his soup.

"I apologize for my… absence." Taurik didn't look up. "I should have explained."

"Nah, it's okay." It wasn't okay. He would have liked to think they were better friends than that, but… but he was pretty sure Taurik didn't consider him a friend. "Gabi told me Vorik was on Voyager when it went missing. Sorry."

Taurik looked at him for a long moment, then back down at his soup. "She did not fully explain the situation," he said, and didn't give Sam time to object that, at the time, there was nothing to explain. She'd told him that Taurik would tell him—so all he had to do was wait. For three days. "My brother is dead."

Sam set his glass of water down almost as soon as he picked it up. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry."

"I will manage."

"Yeah, but… man, you talk about him all the time." All the time obviously being an exaggeration. He talked about warp field theory objectively more, but Vorik was somewhere near the top of that list.

But Taurik was apparently over pointing out hyperbole. "Yes."

Sam looked down at the plate of spaghetti, pondering. "Is there anything I can do?"

Taurik glanced at him for a moment, and Sam couldn't decide if he looked angry at the offer or confused. Sam knew it was a stupid question before he'd asked it. Of course, there was nothing he could do.

Being Taurik's roommate for three years had apparently taught him nothing. He would always say the first stupid thing that came to mind, and Taurik would always have a sarcastic response.

"Actually, I do have a… a request." Taurik looked confused at his own words, maybe because it wasn't sarcastic. Because he knew the question was stupid, just like Sam knew. "I have had some difficulty over the past few days due to the fact that I have never in my life been alone."

"Right, because you have—uh…" Sam didn't know whether to correct to the past tense, then decided not to. "That thing." He tapped his own forehead, though he really had no idea where Taurik would describe the Bond as being. "The Bond-thing." The Bond Taurik described to him years ago sounded awful to Sam, but, like he said… the lack of privacy was just life to Taurik.

And given that constant contact, no wonder he was a mess. Sam could only imagine what it would be like if part of what he could reasonably label himself had died. Literally.

Oh. Oh, god, no wonder.

"Yes. The… 'Bond-thing.' It was recommended that I revert to having a roommate if possible, until I am accustomed to the silence." His voice dwindled away until it was near a whisper, and Sam might have categorized that as either embarrassment or sadness.

Inasmuch as Vulcans could be either, he guessed Taurik was both. "Wow…" He hadn't meant to say anything, and certainly not that. Only because he might have described Taurik as almost… aloof. Separate and independent in almost a proud way—he liked to be noticed for his intelligence as much as for his self-sufficiency. Inasmuch as Vulcans liked anything.

Though, he did spend a lot of time just sitting with them in Ten Forward. He'd never considered how weird that might be before. Or else it wasn't weird. After all, Vulcans had to have some variety among themselves. He'd never considered what an extraverted Vulcan might look like.

"I recognize it's a—"

"Yeah, of course." Sam hadn't exactly meant to say that, either.

"I'm sorry?" Taurik looked puzzled.

"Of course, I'll be your roommate. Honestly, I liked our old room better…" He wasn't sure how true that was. There were some days in their years-long association as roommates that Sam was sure he'd just kill Taurik. Some days he wasn't even sure they were friends.

But today, he was. He was pretty sure. "I'll put in the request today," Sam said.

Taurik put down his spoon. "You don't have to respond immediately."

"What's there to think about?"

"You seemed eager to have your own room only four months ago."

"Yeah, well…" That was true. He didn't exactly enjoy rooming with Taurik. "It's not permanent and it beats you getting assigned to some ensign. Can you imagine?"

Taurik hesitated, looking aside for a moment as he apparently imagined getting assigned "some ensign" as a roommate, before looking back. "Yes. I can." He didn't seem to think that was a problem.

The inevitable explanations and frustrations that came with trying to live with someone he'd never met before. That couldn't be good for him. "Come on. What are friends for except…?"

"Sharing quarters?" Taurik suggested when Sam didn't finish.

"That and other things." He hesitated, recalling a lonely childhood on science vessels followed by a small colony on the edge of Federation space. Everyone developed the habit of looking out for each other: everyone else was too far away to help.

Taurik started eating, as calmly and distantly as ever. "I should also mention that I… appreciate your concern." Sam didn't know what he was talking about until he continued, "However, in the future, I would hope that you might speak to me about such things directly."

"Okay?" Sam frowned. "For the record, I tried, so… so, you know, the ball's in your court there."

"Excuse me. When?"

"I came by your quarters after you ditched me the second time." He tried not to sound hurt, even though some of that was still left. Taurik had a pretty damn good reason, but that didn't mean Sam didn't. Stuff like this was complicated, and how was he supposed to know?

Anyway, he went to talk to Gabi the next day. And now here he was. With a damn good reason.

"Oh…" Taurik looked down at his soup, and nodded. "Yes. I didn't realize… You didn't state your intention very clearly," he offered.

"Well, yeah! I didn't know my intention! I didn't know what was going on with you." With a familiar annoyance settling in the lowest part of his lungs, Sam huffed. Tried not to smile. "How about you just tell me next time I ask what the hell's wrong with you?"

"I apologize."

"That…" Damnit. "That's not what I meant."

"No. You're correct. Some distress might have been avoided had I… simply answered candidly. I haven't been thinking clearly."

"I guess it worked out anyway. I didn't think going to Gabi was going to be the winning play."

Taurik sighed, like maybe it hadn't been. Or something. He sounded annoyed, but he always sounded vaguely annoyed to Sam. "Yes. She is… persistent." Then he glanced back at Sam. "And direct."

"Good to know." Sam smiled. "You know, for when I need to passive-aggressively complain about your perpetual tidying and absolute disdain for anything even remotely decorative."

"I have no opinions on embellishments anymore." With a distinct and deep pause, Taurik went back to his soup. "There are many things that I thought were more important than they are."

If Sam thought that rooming with Taurik again was going to be at all similar to the first time, he was dissuaded of that now. In fact… this Taurik was almost like a different guy entirely, because, if Sam had to describe Taurik in just one phrase, thinking things were more important than they were would have been at the top of that list.

He decided not to say anything about that, though. His brother, best friend, definitely constant shadow was gone and Sam didn't have to wonder if he was reeling. The lid he'd been holding on his emotions this whole time was cracked obviously and in ways Sam had never in three years seen. And up to a few minutes ago, Sam thought he knew Taurik really well.

And maybe he had. But Sam couldn't shake the feeling that this guy was different from the last Vulcan he'd shared a room with. "God…" Sam leaned back in his chair. "Are you okay?"

For a moment it didn't seem like he was going to answer. "I miss him."

When he finally did speak, he said it like it was just an impassive fact… but something still made Sam's heart hurt when he said it. "Of course you do." He sighed and said the only thing that made sense—or, at least, it would have. "I know you loved him… more than anything."

Taurik would say his observation was obviously a Human one. An undeniably emotional assessment. And… yeah. Of course. Sam was a Human and he was emotional. He was allowed to call things what he thought they were, even if it wasn't what Taurik thought it was.

Instead, Taurik exhaled, steadily, and rested his elbows on the table. Lifted his hands and pressed his knuckles to his lips. "Yes," he whispered.

Maybe the assessment that he was an emotional Human wasn't always a suggestion he'd been wrong. Or else Taurik was just that far-gone where it didn't matter if he was wrong anymore. He didn't even try to tell him that love wasn't something Vulcans did.

Taurik took a breath and looked into his half-finished bowl of soup. "I should return to duty."

"Yeah. Yeah, me, too." Sam felt like he was suddenly drawn back from some faraway place. "I'll put in the request for a joint room assignment when I get there if that's okay with you."

"And I will approve the request." Taurik rose with his bowl, but didn't walk away until Sam stood up with his empty plate. "Thank you."

Sam sighed, and hesitantly patted Taurik's shoulder. He didn't respond, not even with confusion or distance. "I'm happy to be your background noise."

Taurik nodded, like he understood that Sam meant he'd have done just about anything Taurik asked. Another benefit to sharing life like they had for almost three years… Taurik had been there for all of Sam's dirty laundry and ugly break-ups; Sam had seen first-hand Taurik's surprising insecurity and social faux pas. There were just some things they didn't need to say anymore.

They left their dishes in the replicator and went back to work.

#

"Miss Dixson."

Gabi turned at Taurik's call, smiled and waved. He gestured to the empty chair at his table between himself and Alyssa. Ten Forward was crowded and loud today, but she happened to know that Taurik's hearing was excellent. All Vulcans' were. "Be right there," she said, and turned back to the bar.

"Good evening, Gabi." Guinan leaned on the bar and smiled at her. "Samarian sunset?"

The sound alone rang in her ears. "Yes, please. Did Taurik already get something?"

Guinan squinted over Gabi's shoulder toward the table while she got out the requisite mixes and glass for the sunset. "He's been here a while. Finished his brandy a long time ago and didn't ask for anything else."

"And a Vulcan spice tea, then. I'll bring it to him."

"How's he doing?" she asked, pouring various drinks into the glass without measuring.

Gabi watched her work, transfixed for the moment until she realized she'd been asked a question. "Oh, I don't know. Fine, I think. It's been two and a half months now, so…" Any actual detail from her was probably inappropriate. Also, he was probably listening. To divulge any information seemed disrespectful of the unorthodox amount of time she was spending with him.

Hell, even her vocabulary had started to change. Using words like… unorthodox.

"Well, tell him I miss our talks." She winked over Gabi's shoulder.

When Gabi looked back, she saw Taurik nod before he went back to watching the interaction at the rest of his table. Of course, Guinan would know he could listen to them talk from all the way over there if he focused—but Taurik would think it was rude to not keep his full attention on the people he was with. He was right.

Guinan put the sunset between them and offered her a knife. "You want to do the honors?"

Gabi tapped the rim of the glass and watched the clear liquid effervesce through an array of colors until it settled on sunset orange. While she watched, Guinan gave her a teacup and saucer of the familiar spice tea.

"Thank you," Gabi said, taking the two drinks. "It's beautiful."

"Have a good night."

Gabi offered the same as she went through the milling people to land at Taurik's table. She slid the tea onto the table in front of him and sat down beside him. Sam sat on Taurik's other side, nursing his regular Trakian ale. Most likely syntheholic, though that depended on what kind of day it was. It looked like a pretty good day. Next to him, Andy Powell sat next to Alyssa, a lieutenant in medical.

Everyone gave their hellos, since everyone had become comfortable with her being around from time to time. Still, she glanced around to see who else might be eying her association with officers that wasn't wearing off. Eliza was embroiled in a very close conversation with Petty Officer Gregson two tables away. That would never last… She didn't immediately find anyone else she recognized, so figured she would have ended up here anyway.

Taurik picked up the tea cup she'd set before him, inhaling the aroma before nodding a thanks to her and taking a drink.

"How you doing, Alyssa?" Gabi asked, turning her attention on the table.

With a sigh of near-irritation, Alyssa rearranged her very-pregnant body in her chair. "Any day can't come quickly enough." She gave a weak smile.

That was something Gabi thought she'd probably never experience. "Aren't you due something like… yesterday?"

Alyssa laughed, and Gabi was once again struck by how pretty she was. She always wore her uniform, even now, which was to her advantage. She looked good in it, and it didn't seem to matter whether she was having a good day or not, pregnant or not. "Four days. But he doesn't seem at all interested."

"He?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

"No—we actually don't know," Alyssa said, and sighed in discomfort. "We want to be surprised, but… I'd be thrilled if it were a boy, I think. For some reason. But I'll be happy enough to just get these next few days over with."

"Vulcan parents do not speculate on the sex of their children," Taurik offered. "And, of course, never desire one sex over the other."

"Lighten up," Gabi said, taking a drink. "It's like the bets for a birthdate but with better odds. I think it'll be a girl, and may I submit the name Nadia?"

Taurik absorbed that with little understanding. "Vulcan parents do not gamble on the characteristics of their children."

Alyssa giggled. "We're naming a girl after my mother and a boy after Andrew's father. But Nadia is a beautiful name. I don't think we've agreed on a middle name."

"What is the significance of the name Nadia?" Taurik asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Gabi shrugged. "I just think it's pretty."

Taurik frowned as Sam mused, "I dated a Nadia once…"

Alyssa patted Sam's shoulder in obvious amusement.

"I was under the impression that many Humans preferred to name their children for more than a name's aesthetic qualities," Taurik said, and looked at Gabi. "For example, Gabriele, feminized from the Ancient Earth Hebrew name Gabriel meaning 'God is strong.'" He paused long enough for Gabi to wonder where he could be going with this. "You told me everything produced on your homeworld is stronger than those produced on other planets."

"Well. Here's to everything making sense in retrospect." Gabi offered her glass to him for a playful toast.

Taurik lifted his tea cup to tap the rim of her glass.

"What does Taurik mean?" Alyssa asked.

"I believe it would be 'ridgeline' or possibly 'the edge of a cliff" or another similar geological formation." He seemed to think about that, maybe trying to make it make sense in retrospect. "It is doubtful my parents considered meaning when naming their children. At most, children are named for historical individuals."

She desperately wanted to ask what Vorik meant, but didn't.

Sam didn't restrain himself. "How about your brother?"

Taurik considered. "The meaning is less clear—though the most common interpretation is 'the beginning of a story.' Or, equally likely, the end of one. The -rik element indicates the limit or boundary of something." He took a drink of his tea. "As I said, it is unclear."

Gabi regretted having said anything about names making sense in retrospect, and she wanted to punch Sam in the face. He looked humbled enough, anyway.

"Does anyone have any plans for mandatory leave when we hit Starbase 234?" Sam asked, his tone brightening the mood.

"I'm not going on leave for it, but Eliza's dragging me down to the colony to pick up a cup or something." At the looks everyone was giving her, she said, "She always gets something from the planets she visits. You know, a sweater, a spoon, a pillow..."

Sam grinned. "That's quite a tradition. Your quarters are gonna be crammed full of junk before you hit first-class."

"They already are," Taurik muttered.

Sam coughed to cover a laugh and took a drink of his ale.

"Alright, then, what are you going to do?" Gabi asked.

"There is a mountain range a day's hike from the colony site," Taurik said, looking at Gabi. "I was going to invite you to accompany me, but if you have other plans—"

"How long do you think it takes to pick out a spoon?" Gabi said. "Of course, I want to climb some real rocks—it's been ages since I climbed real rocks. Sam, you coming?" She spun to see Sam seem surprised at the invitation.

"I, uh… don't climb. Thanks, though," Sam said, and offered a half-hearted toast with his ale. "I'd just slow you guys down."

"Oh, come on, I slow him down." Gabi waved that away, and glanced at Taurik for his opinion. As usual, he was relatively unreadable. "It's not like any records we set are going to stand for long, anyway."

"You are, of course, welcome to come if you wish." Taurik set his tea down, then looked at Alyssa and Andy. "I would offer the same to you, but I assume you will be busy."

"We sure will." Alyssa sighed, then patted her husband's arm. "Alright, sorry, but it's time to get me off to bed. The more I sleep the next few days, the less aware of how uncomfortable I am." Andy helped her up and away from the table as everyone wished her a good night's sleep and good luck.

Gabi turned back to Sam. "Come on. You should come. Exploring uncharted mountain ranges, sleeping under the stars, eating combat rations."

"What? I told you I don't climb." Sam gave Taurik a look. "Tell her you don't want me to come."

Taurik turned his gaze on Gabi. "He does not want to come."

"That's not what I said."

"I was… what's the phrase…?" Taurik took a contemplative sip of his tea, his expression more serious than usual. "Reading between the lines?" Ah, sarcasm. The most well-worn tool in a Vulcan's social tool belt, even though they wouldn't call it that. She hadn't realized before this year.

"We're gonna be there at least three months for the refit. Just one trip," Gabi said. "If you hate it, you never have to come again and I'll go bar-crawling with you."

"Fine, fine." Sam shook his head and down the rest of his ale. "Too bad they don't quarter officers and crewmen together. Now you. You'd've made a great roommate." He gave Taurik a playful glare and stood. "I gotta get out of here. Duty at oh-six-hundred. Don't have too much fun," he added, patting Taurik's shoulder before walking away.

Taurik watched him go, putting his empty teacup back on the saucer before looking at her. "How many outings were you planning for climbing?" At her confused look, he said, "You said to Sam he only had to come once. The implication is that there would be more than one."

"Oh. Well, three months is a long time, and mandatory leave is almost a whole month." She sighed and leaned back in her chair with the sunset carefully balanced in her fingers. "I'm going to be ripping up my clothes stuck on a planet."

"Ripping up your clothes?"

"Yeah, you know. On edge. Restless. Like you're stuck somewhere and can't get out. I don't do very well sitting still, and that's all planets do."

Taurik nodded, then an eyebrow lifted. "On the contrary. Planets run in circles."

Gabi couldn't help but smile at that one. "Alright, what are you doing? Trying on these Human phrases for size or something?"

"Perhaps because of the tendency toward precision, Vulcan lacks the colorful metaphors exhibited in Human languages."

Gabi laughed. "Colorful metaphors?"

Taurik leaned on his elbows on the table, ignoring her question and continuing, "Studying the use of language is quite enlightening when trying to understand a culture."

"You're trying to understand Humans?"

He gave a half shrug.

"Well, as a Human, I'm flattered. Any idioms you particularly like?" He gave her a raised eyebrow, and she waved him off. "You know what I mean."

Taurik seemed to give it serious thought. "The phrase 'to get something off one's chest' is quite evocative. I am, of course, familiar with metaphors assigning physical shape, weight, or color to a complex or difficult topic, but to place the weight on one's chest specifically is… illustrative."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess it is."

"And you?"

"'Don't drown yourself in a cup of water.'" She took a drink of the sunset. "Means 'don't make a big deal out of something small.'"

"Also evocative."

"That's what colorful metaphors are for."

"Indeed." He hesitated. "That's Spanish, isn't it?"

She frowned, surprised. "Yeah?"

"It's an extremely common Earth language," he said. "I have been listening to the most common languages from Earth in a casual comparative study of rhythm. Federation Basic is slow in comparison, though lexically compact. I noticed you speak Spanish most of the time."

Gabi found herself blushing, though she wasn't sure why. "Yeah. I had to be essentially fluent in Federation Basic by my third year in Starfleet, and I am… but I don't prefer it." Gabi concentrated beyond the meanings the universal translator projected into her mind, and listened.

"Indeed. I am fluent in Federation Basic, as well. All schools on Vulcan utilize it for lessons, as it is constructed from Vulcan, Andorian, and Earth's English; and intended to be as simple as possible to learn and pronounce by Humanoids." He paused, seemed to consider his next words, and offered, "Nevertheless, I prefer Vulcan."

Even though Federation Basic might have been based on it in part, Vulcan was poetic by comparison; it was full of harsh ts and ks, but it made up for it with a variety of soft and lyrical vowel-sounds. It didn't surprise her. She'd seen the swirling calligraphy, read from top-to-bottom, and hadn't imagined it could be anything but beautiful. Not that Spanish wasn't. She just hadn't given it any thought. She liked her native tongue only because she knew it better.

"Commander Riker speaks English," he said after she didn't say anything for a while.

"I never thought to listen."

"Captain Picard speaks French. Commander La Forge speaks Basic, as does Sam. It's quite fascinating."

"I bet." She sighed and finished the sunset.

He stood, straightened his shirt. "I should go," he said. And hesitated. "Thank you."

She frowned, leaning on the table and only slightly regretting that he was going. "For?"

Taurik looked off toward the doors out of Ten Forward, back straight and holding his hands behind his back. She was always impressed when he managed to be like this—how far he'd come. She still got invitations to sit with him while he meditated, but usually only after they'd been climbing, when Sam was working. Even with the context of what she knew was inside, the first Taurik she knew had become normal to her again.

"For listening to me ramble," he said, with a glance at her. "About dumb things. It is entirely unnecessary."

How unorthodox. She smiled. "Good night, Taurik."

"Good night, Gabi."

Taurik cantered down the steps and went out into the corridor.

Gabi was about to leave herself when Eliza slammed down into the seat Taurik had just left. She leaned on the table between them, her chin cradled in her hands and her grin broad. "So how's it going?"

"Just about to head back to the room," Gabi said. "How are you… and Gregson?"

Eliza waved that away. "That was nothing."

"Alright?" Gabi couldn't figure out why she suddenly sounded annoyed.

"I was just wondering when I can expect you to leave my roommate assignment open because you've decided to go to the Academy," she said. She didn't give Gabi enough time to unravel what was going on, continuing, "If you were an officer, it'd make things a whole lot easier with your Vulcan boyfriend."

Gabi scoffed, tried to ignore the sudden anger that clouded her vision. "For one thing, he's practically married—"

"Okay, for one thing, practically," Eliza shot back. "And for another thing, when has that actually stopped anybody?"

"Now! Me!" Gabi snapped. "It would stop me! Besides, it's not like that. We're just friends."

Eliza sighed nostalgically. "You're adorable."

"I'm serious…"

"Just admit it." Eliza leaned back with a smirk. "We'll both feel better about it. You're in his quarters practically all the time and you never sit with any of us anymore."

"Okay, that's not true. Neither of those," she added, because she didn't join him for meditation nearly as often as she used to, even when Sam's schedule and social life kept him from being in their shared quarters. For one week, Gabi had been with him every day. She'd gotten so much reading done that week… but it was one week. "He's like my brother," she added, even though she had no frame of reference to decide if that was true. Anyway, any explanation felt like a betrayal of trust. As weird as it was, she felt… protective. He didn't need protecting, but she'd put a lot of thought over the past two months wondering how he was. It was becoming like a habit.

Anyway, was it really so bad if she had friends from other places, socially? They weren't even that different. Sam was a goofball; Alyssa was sweet. Taurik could be surprisingly mean on occasion. They were normal people, even about their age. The only difference was the pips on their uniforms.

"Uh… no, he's not," Eliza said. "At the very least, you have a crush on him. Come on. Fess up."

"He puts up with my useless trivia about nautiluses, which is more than I can say for you."

Besides, the idea of a romantic relationship continued to elude her. It wasn't that she even had any opinions about it one way or the other. She just… never thought about it. Living with someone like Eliza made her wonder if there was something wrong with her.

Spending time with someone like Taurik, by contrast, made her feel like she might be normal.

But, then, of course, Eliza always came back to remind her that her even feeling normal wasn't.

Eliza frowned. "Are you implying you've replaced my scintillating companionship with a Vulcan's?"

"I'm saying that if I suddenly stopped spending all my time with him and switched back to you, he wouldn't assume we were a couple." With a huff, Gabi leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. That wasn't the point. "He might not care about whatever it is I'm talking about—per se," she added, since she still wasn't sure if he technically cared about things like that. "But at least he doesn't try to drag me into all his tests for warp field modifications, either."

Gabi knew that was a crummy metaphor. She could use a few colorful ones right now…

Eliza seemed surprisingly upset. "What do you mean? I don't make you do stuff you don't want to do. You like to be included. I include you. I don't have to, you know."

"That's not what I meant," Gabi snapped, even though that was exactly what she meant. That was the nature of randomly-assigned roommates. Had the potential side effect of making one want to commit murder—randomly.

"Then what did you mean?"

"I mean I want to go to bed." Gabi sighed and stood up. "Have you put any more thought into what you want to get at Starbase 234?" And there was the fact that their quarters were already decorated to the hilt with random objects.

Sam and Taurik's combined sense of aesthetic yielded a pretty nice room—not so much that the single depressing picture of Vorik on Taurik's low meditation table was robbed of its place of prominence. She wondered if that was in some ways intentional, and who was responsible for that. Gabi was with them for the first twenty minutes of their roommate-reunion before realizing the conversation about what to hang on the walls was going to take hours and she didn't have that kind of time. Or interest.

After eying her for a few long seconds before, apparently, deciding it wasn't worth it, Eliza sighed and stood up. "No, not really… You don't have to go with me if you don't want to."

"You took away the completely wrong thing from that conversation." Gabi huffed and headed toward the door. "The fact we've lived together for years without killing each other has to mean something to you."

Eliza ran to catch up with her, throwing her hands out in exasperation. "I don't want to drag you into my warp field research."

"The thing you should have taken from that conversation is that I don't want you making assumptions and spreading rumors like that! God, Eliza! You know that could hurt us—both of us, okay? Not just me and not just the lieutenant. He's having a tough time right now, so excuse me for caring."

"That's what I'm saying, Gabi!" Eliza said, following her into the turbolift and whispering, "You care, a whole lot more than normal, okay?"

"It's starting to sound like normal in your set-up means not at all. And that's kinda depressing."

Eliza frowned. "Alright." She watched for a second before turning to face the door. "But just saying, it's not my set-up. It is normal. For a very specific type of relationship."

"Deck Fourteen." Gabi took a deep breath, tried to steady her nerves and the unmistakable feeling that she had done or said something wrong. That she was the one out of line. But that couldn't be true; she felt it somewhere in the deepest recesses of her soul that she was right. She was supposed to care… even if that wasn't normal. Per se.

They went back to their quarters in somewhat stony silence. Eliza offered to eat ice cream and listen to a training recording together before bed, but Gabi couldn't imagine herself into the mood. She went to bed and didn't get up until after Eliza had already left for her shift for the next morning.

The next evening shift rolled around quicker than Gabi was happy to deal with, but Lieutenant Yamata gave her a list of various maintenance activities that had to be done by the time they put in for the refit. Gabi picked the one that would take the longest and headed off. Alone.

It was going to take all day.

As Gabi leaned into the Jefferies tube entrance, hands supporting her chin, she contemplated the comparative torture she'd endure going to the academy to become an officer just to delegate this stuff to technicians. "Just me, huh…?"

Nope. Didn't seem worth it.

Gabi crawled into the opening, hunching over as she sat, and pulled the panel cover off. Inside, the blue and orange wires pulsed cheerily like they sprouted from the chrome-colored bolt in the wall behind her. Black dots freckled the lines, a tiny indication that nobody had maintained these in… oh, maybe four months. The whole section was probably like this. The last four hours of her shift was promising to be… fun.

It wasn't that bad. Gabi appreciated a good mindless task on uncomfortable grating every now and again. A perfect time to let her mind wander to whatever she was doing after shift today, or plan what she was going to say during her evaluation next month. It might have been early for a promotion, but never too early to start aiming for it.

Gabi was as familiar with the Jefferies tubes as she was with her own quarters. With the number of panels in here, it would take her the rest of today and some of tomorrow to get it done. Maybe. That was assuming she didn't set any records today.

Not that she had any idea what the official records might be or if anyone kept them. But she had her own, and records were only kept to be broken.

She arranged her tools between her fingers and looked at the wires. "Computer?" It beeped at her. "Set a timer to begin on my mark." It gave an affirmative tone. "Mark."

"Miss Dixson?"

Gabi yelped, jolted, and slammed her head on the curved ceiling above her head and her hand on the edge of the panel. "Damnit—Taurik, what the hell? Computer, reset timer."

The computer beeped.

Taurik was leaning to see into the Jefferies tube, hands behind his back, and eyebrows raised. He was in his uniform, though she had no idea he was on duty today. His mouth was open, as though to scold her for her clumsiness.

Before he could continue, she said, "Sorry. Lieutenant—Lieutenant Taurik, what the hell, sir?" She set her tools down and rubbed her head as she crawled back out of the tube.

"It was not my intention to startle you," he mumbled as she leaned out into the junction. "I was merely seeking a few extra hours in maintenance today. Lieutenant Yamata suggested I assist you." He paused, watched her glare in what seemed like amusement. "It appears you need it," he added.

Gabi scoffed. "Yeah, good thing you're here. I might've killed myself." No blood, so she dismissed the throb on the back of her head. She moved on to tentatively bend the fingers of the hand she'd just jammed into the panel frame. Nothing broken. She sighed and looked at him.

Last time he went on a maintenance spree, Voyager had only been missing for three days.

In the two and a half months since Voyager's disappearance in the Badlands, most everyone not directly involved seemed to have given them up for lost. Gabi hadn't asked for updates, but Taurik told her that he met with Counsellor Troi every week. In part, he told her because she practically insisted he go in the first place.

"I'm not hurt, by the way, in case you were wondering."

"I am… reassured." He arched an eyebrow.

She sighed. She decided to just ask. "Are you okay?"

He looked back into the dimly lit tunnel, the wires shimmering beyond the open panel. Nothing broken. "Yes."

"Uh-huh. So, just crawling around maintenance tunnels on your day off is your idea of fun?" She went back to her seat, propping the green-pen-like instruments between her pinky finger and ring finger, and grasped the other horseshoe-shaped contraption with her forefinger and thumb. Just a little trick the chiefs liked to dazzle new crew with. She'd been practicing long enough now she could do it with general competency herself.

"Fun. An emotional appraisal, as well as subjective and relative." He always said that.

Taurik looked down at the small handful of tools he'd brought with him, apparently comparing them with Gabi's arrangement in the tunnel.

Gabi sighed, leaning on one hand to watch him study his instruments like they were much more interesting than they actually were. She smiled. "Hey, you want to get something off your chest?"

He glanced at her. "I wouldn't want to… drown in a cup of water."

"It's just idle chitchat while doing this mind-numbing maintenance work."

"Very well." With that, he crawled into the tunnel after her. He sat almost directly behind her, a bit further in since there wasn't quite enough space. "What are your beliefs about… dreams?"

Gabi huffed. "Damn, I don't know." She looked at him, and found he was watching her. Not with any particular interest or concern, just listening. "Whatever they are, they aren't very scientific, I can tell you that much."

"The language was deliberate. My question was about your beliefs, not science."

"Okay." She had never considered that Vulcans dreamed. For some reason, she thought they didn't. Her dreams were too illogical. "I think most Humans believe that they're just our brains entertaining themselves or playing out scenarios like practice. But some Humans think dreams can tell the future. Why? What do Vulcans think?"

Taurik's eyes were now on her hand, the two instruments there. "Perhaps dream is not the correct term… I am referring to something that happens while you're awake. The Vulcan word is nearly identical, an idle imagining… though uncontrollable."

"Oh. When you're awake, they're… daydreams, I guess," she supplied, and wondered what the hell Vulcan daydreams could be like. Daydreaming didn't seem like a particularly Vulcan activity. "Vulcans daydream?"

"Not frequently." Taurik hesitated. "What are you doing?"

Gabi gave her hand a little wave. "What, this?" She smiled. "Degaussing and resetting optic relays at the same time." She went back to the work, though it was mostly for demonstration at this point. "Cuts time by over a third if you do it this way."

After watching for a moment, he said, "Interesting. Do you have a second tuner?"

"Sure." She handed her backup over her shoulder, and watched him.

"Hey." Gabi tapped Taurik's arm as he fiddled with the two instruments, arranged clumsily between his fingers. She held her hand out for him to more closely inspect, and he copied her hand position.

She smiled softly, and turned her back to him.

For a few minutes, she got to work and he tested out the new method of degaussing and resetting. Like most Vulcans would, he had the intellectual side of the task completely under control. Fine coordination, however, was not necessarily an innate Vulcan trait. Even with that, though, the two of them could get this whole section done tonight easily.

After a few minutes, Taurik said, "My question was not without a purpose."

"I figured. You don't seem like the type to start talking about osmotic eels for no reason, no matter how interesting it is." She considered for the moment her recent interest in the way leaves on photophilic plants turned slightly to face the sun, and then realized he wasn't saying anything. "So what's up?"

"Periodically, I… sense my brother. As if he is alive. It is difficult to explain. Counsellor Troi believes my sense of his presence is not unlike a phantom limb, wherein the brain imagines sensory input from a part of the body that is no longer present."

"Sounds almost like the Human grief response to expect the call at the door or the incoming message to be the lost loved one than a daydream… But I guess you're describing an actual sensation more than an expectation." She stopped and looked at him.

"Yes, precisely. It's… rare for Vulcans to respond to grief that way."

"Even ones like you?" When he glanced at her in confusion, she added, "I mean, you know, ones like you and Vorik. Ones that are… one person."

"Oh. I'm not sure. Perhaps."

"Does this happen to you often?"

"Yes… sometimes almost every day, though at random there is nothing for a week or more. The intervals can be surprisingly regular, regardless of what I am doing." Taurik paused. "I suppose there is no equivalent Human experience."

"Not that I know of, but, then, I haven't lost anybody important to me." She tapped each corner of the cover of the panel she'd just finished with and pulled the cover off the next panel. "Do you think it's him?"

"How could it be?"

"I don't know. Don't Vulcans have katras and stuff?" She hoped that wasn't an incredibly insensitive thing to say.

Taurik didn't seem to mind, but that was how he always reacted. She could have been insulting his people every hour of every day, and he would never say anything. "Yes, but… how would his get here?"

Gabi giggled. "You think souls need impulse power to get around or something?"

"Your sarcasm, while not misplaced, is unnecessary." Taurik looked at his open panel for a few moments without moving. "Vulcan spiritual tradition, as well as some scientific evidence, holds that all beings possess some form of energy beyond our bodies. I never considered before whether that translates to whether I… believe in the idea of a soul. I believe in Vorik's memories—not in his continued non-corporeal existence. But... but he could not have performed any sort of transference. That requires a mind-meld."

She had no idea what he was talking about. Besides, it didn't really matter. "Have you tried talking back?"

"Excuse me?"

"To Vorik. If it is him, maybe he can hear you, too."

"I—no, I haven't. Vorik is dead. He cannot hear me."

"But you can hear him."

He didn't speak again for a while, like that was maybe a good point. A reasonable one. "Assume, for the moment, I am considering your proposal as anything other than absurd—which it is." Taurik went back to his work, becoming defter at handling the two instruments at once with every wire. Still slower than she was, though. "What does one say to a disembodied soul?"

"What does he say to you?"

"He—" Taurik sighed. "It is not words, exactly. It's very faint. The sensation is like remembering an emotion rather than feeling it. Contentment and well-being. Peace. Nostalgia."

"Huh." Gabi smiled at him, though it was pretty obvious he didn't share her feelings about it. "I mean, better that your brother's ghost is happy, right? If I had to be haunted, that's what I'd pick."

"Perhaps." Taurik slammed his fist against the panel, forcing it into place with one hit. It was loud and sudden enough to startle her. "It seems inconsiderate of him to be so at-ease."

Well. That was concerning. Gabi didn't know whether to ask him if he was alright or let that obvious expression of anger slide. She thought about it, and decided not to say anything. "So… tell him that. Maybe he'll take the hint and leave you alone if that's all he has to say."

Taurik didn't respond for so long that she paused her work to look at him. He had stopped working, too, staring at the floor. "No, I… I think I will tell him I am also content." He glanced at her. "That I miss him, as well."

No response came to mind for that. He went back to his work, and she waited to feel something other than that heavy tone. Finally, she wiped her eyes and got back to work. "I'm sure he'd like to know that," she said. They were quiet for another several minutes, Gabi's mind wandering across various possibilities of Vulcan ghosts and whether they existed. They'd certainly seen weirder things. "Do Vulcan ghosts limit their emotions, too?"

The question seemed to amuse Taurik.

"I mean, has he really said anything very logical to you?"

"Emotion is easier to communicate than logic," Taurik said.

Gabi chuckled. "I guess I can't argue with that."

"I am certain you could if you tried."