Lieutenant Ras El'Heem - Resilience

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((Room 135, Deck 13, USS Khitomer, Dry-docked at DS33))

 

By the time Ras returned to his quarters, he had already begun arranging tomorrow in his head. There would be another request from Starfleet Science. It never ended. Someone would want clarification on a sensor calibration or ask that one section of a report be reformatted to match archival standards. A pair of samples still required transfer to the station laboratory. Another officer on delta shift still needed his approval before submitting the departmental equipment inventory.

 

He could have easily pawned some of this off on Richard or even put Eeso through the rounds of the bureaucracy but this was his first mission as Chief of Science, and he wanted things personally signed with his signature. Somewhere in his inbox sat at least one message he had opened, read, and intentionally left unanswered until he had the time to think about it properly. He had been saying that for four days.

 

The door slid shut behind him. Without thinking, he crossed to his desk and set the PADD in his hand onto the growing pile beside the terminal. It landed slightly off center. He considered straightening the stack, then left it alone. Every evening had ended the same way. He had finished the last assignment that still demanded his attention, carried the completed PADD back with him, and tossed it onto the desk with the intention of taking the entire stack to archives in the morning. Every morning something else had taken priority before he reached that part of the ship.

 

The pile had become its own reminder. Tomorrow.

 

Ras shrugged out of his uniform jacket and draped it across the back of the chair. It had occupied the same place each night, only returning to the wardrobe long enough to begin the cycle again. His eyes drifted toward the shelf beside the viewport. The plants had survived another mission. Some had fared better than others. One trailing vine had slipped free of its support ring and now wandered lazily across the shelf, its newest leaves reaching in directions that had made perfect sense to the plant if no one else. A broad-leafed fern had acquired a permanent lean after spending too many days compensating for sudden changes in inertia. Soil still dusted the shelf beneath several pots from what he could only assume was Amelia’s piloting as they escaped the cloud.

 

Then there was the African violet. Its broken ceramic pot remained exactly where he had left it. The crack had begun as little more than a hairline fracture months ago during M’rathyr knows what mission. The jolt when initial dampeners were offline had finished what simple wear had started. The pot had split, spilling soil across the shelf. Ras had gathered everything into a shallow tray with the intention of dealing with it the next evening. And just like with his pile of PADDS, the next evening had become several.

 

He looked at it for a long moment. Then he exhaled quietly through his nose. Tonight. The temporary planter waited inside one of the storage cabinets beneath the replicator. It was plain gray polymer, manufactured with utility in mind rather than appearance. Ras had kept several on hand for cuttings and seedlings, though he rarely propagated anything intentionally. That was never the goal. Plants had simply found ways of making more of themselves.

 

Ras placed the planter beside the tray and replicated fresh potting medium. The violet lifted free more easily than he expected. The roots had remained together in a compact mass, held by damp soil despite losing their container. A few fine roots had escaped through the fractured edge of the ceramic, but none appeared damaged beyond recovery. Ras brushed away the loose fragments still clinging to the root ball. His prosthetic hand required a little more concentration during work like this. The strength built into it could easily become clumsiness if he stopped paying attention. Years earlier he would have worried about crushing delicate stems. Now he simply remembered to be careful.

 

Ras settled the plant into its temporary home and worked fresh soil around the sides until it stood upright again. Not quite as neatly as before. Good enough. He’d find more time to repot it properly after all the work was done.

 

Ras carried it back to the shelf. The empty space beside it drew his attention to the rest of the collection. While he was at it, he might as well prune the others. One yellowing leaf pinched away between his fingers. The loose vine found its support again with only a gentle turn around the ring. He rotated several pots a quarter turn before realizing he could no longer remember whether he had done the same thing last week. It hardly mattered. They would all receive their share of light eventually.

 

The shelf looked much the same when he finished. Perhaps a little tidier. Perhaps only because he knew where he had touched it. Ras gathered the broken pieces of the violet's ceramic pot into a small container and set them inside the cabinet rather than throwing them away. It had a history.

 

Commander Alora DeVeau had given it to him after graduation. The planter itself was replaceable, of course. Still, he would rather mend it. Ras rinsed the remaining soil from his hands, drying them absently on a towel while his eyes wandered back toward the desk.

 

Another completed PADD rested atop the stack. He wondered briefly how many reports had passed through his hands since the Khitomer had docked. Enough that individual documents had blurred together. Scientific summaries. Departmental inventories. Hazard assessments. Equipment losses. Recommendations. Follow-up correspondence. Requests for clarification generated by people who had not been there and therefore needed the events translated into something that fit inside official language. The work had not been difficult, but it was persistent.

 

Ras crossed the room once more, picked up the newest PADD, and slipped it beneath the others to level the stack. It looked marginally less precarious. That counted for something. The chronometer caught his eye. Later than he had intended. Again. He briefly considered replicating tea before deciding against it. The mug still sitting beside the terminal from the previous night suggested that decision had already been made once before.

 

He dimmed the lights, leaving only the soft illumination above the plants. The African violet looked no different in its temporary planter than it had in the broken ceramic one. Resilience was something to be respected.

 

By the time he lay down, tomorrow's list had already begun arranging itself again. He decided it could wait until morning. For once, nothing in the room appeared to disagree.

 

NT/END

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Lieutenant Ras El ‘Heem

Chief Science Officer

USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)

K240106RE3