Ensign Meris: What We Carry Between Stars
Meris/Brian
((Main Shuttlebay, Deck 7, USS Thor))
Meris often thought of the Main Shuttlebay as the mouth of the USS Thor. A cavern of duranium and forcefields that inhaled and exhaled people and ships. The air smelled faintly of machine oil, ozone, and the lingering warmth of recently powered engines. Somewhere deeper in the bay, tools clinked rhythmically against metal, a counterpoint to the low hum of the station’s systems.
Meris stepped away from Naledi and headed deeper into the main bay. Laughter carried. Boots echoed. A shuttle’s hatch sealed with a decisive thump, its occupants already half-lost to anticipation. Shore leave energy had a texture to it. Bright. Effervescent. It clung to people like static.
Naledi had been working near the shuttlecraft Modi. Across the bay, the shuttlecraft Magni sat in a maintenance cradle, its outer panels open as technicians worked to restore her systems. It had been quite a wild ride in the VX-LON system.
With both of the long-range shuttles unavailable, Commander Herrick had authorized something else to carry the pilot back to their homeworld. Near the center of the bay waited the Arrow-class runabout USS Jörð.
oO One of The Parents. Oo
Its hull caught the overhead lights in soft, unassuming lines. No unnecessary ornamentation. No bravado. It looked like a ship that knew exactly what it was and did not feel the need to explain itself.
Meris felt their shoulders ease as they approached it. They were looking forward to getting back behind the helm controls once again.
A maintenance worker exited the Jörð’s side hatch. Their boots scraped lightly against the deck as they spotted the approaching Ensign and offered a wave and a smile. They smelled faintly of coolant and recycled coffee and wore an expression caught somewhere between curiosity and amusement.
Maintenance Worker: You’re Ensign Meris, right?
Meris: I am.
Maintenance Worker: I don’t usually see requests like this. Long-range solo clearance. That thing with the plant... is that a joke? Or some kind of special plant?
Meris tilted their head, squinting slightly.
Meris: A special plant?
Maintenance Worker: Like, I thought maybe it was a gift for the King of J’naii or something like that.
Meris considered that with complete seriousness.
Meris: We do not have a King. My homeworld is ruled by a panel of judges. ::a pause:: It is just a plant.
The worker laughed softly and shrugged.
Maintenance Worker: Well, she’s ready. I prepped her like my own mother was going to be flying her.
Meris paused, then placed their palm flat against the hull. It was cool. Solid.
Meris: ::looking back to the worker:: Thank you for that.
The pilot then bid them farewell and climbed aboard.
((Cockpit, Runabout USS Jörð))
The cockpit lights rose gently as Meris entered, illuminating the compact space in warm tones. The familiar scent of clean air recyclers mixed with something faintly organic.
Meris’ gaze went immediately to the co-pilot’s seat.
The African Violet sat secured within a reinforced carrier, straps firm but considerate. Its leaves were broad and healthy, catching the light just enough to shine. The blossoms were vivid purple, unapologetically alive against the muted grays of Starfleet engineering.
Meris: Well, I couldn’t just leave you in my quarters.
They waited a beat.
Meris: I hope your transport was comfortable.
The plant did not respond.
They took the pilot’s seat and began their preflight checks. Fingers moved with muscle memory honed by countless launches. Systems responded crisply. Power levels stabilized. Navigation resolved into certainty.
Meris’ voice remained calm, even reverent.
Meris: You have been entrusted to my care. I will endeavor to be worthy of that trust.
They glanced sideways, but the plant remained stoically silent.
Meris smiled faintly and opened a channel.
Meris: =/\= Thor Shuttlebay Control, this is Runabout Jörð, requesting clearance to depart. =/\=
Shuttlebay Control: =/\= Jörð, you are cleared for launch. Safe travels, Ensign. =/\=
Meris: =/\= Thank you. =/\=
The runabout lifted smoothly, vibration traveling up through the seat and into Meris’ spine. As the bay doors opened and the forcefield shimmered into existence, space unfolded ahead of them and, in the corner of the viewscreen, Seda.
Meris slowly applied thrust, and the Arrow-class runabout moved forward, piercing the forcefield and entering open space. At one-quarter impulse, the Jörð moved out from between the Thor’s nacelles, and the view of Seda became more complete.
Meris: It is beautiful.
Blue-green oceans curved softly along the planet’s surface, streaked with reflected starlight. Auroras rippled in luminous curtains near the poles, shifting hues that reminded Meris of controlled plasma but felt far less predictable. The planet’s rings arced elegantly, dust and ice catching the light in bands that felt almost painted.
Behind them, the Thor hung in orbit, steady and watchful. A familiar silhouette they had now seen from the cockpit of a shuttle more times than they cared to count.
oO I will miss them while I’m gone. Oo
They felt it then. The weight of not going planetside. Of laughter missed. Of experiences deferred. The ache was real, but it did not outweigh what lay ahead, a purpose they had spent their whole life moving toward.
Meris straightened in the pilot’s chair.
Meris: Setting course for the Bajoran Wormhole. Warp 5.5.
Stars stretched into luminous lines as the Jörð leapt to warp.
((Later))
Time unfolded differently in transit.
Meris settled into routine with practiced precision. In the morning, they performed their sha’rel exercises. They reviewed lesson plans, refining language, anticipating misconceptions. They replayed moments from the VX-LON mission, carefully extracting meaning from the experiences. One evening, they awoke with a start following a particularly lurid dream about Lieutenant Naledi.
They spoke aloud as they worked.
Meris: Ethical observation is paramount. Presence alone alters outcomes.
They paused.
Meris: Personal error should be acknowledged but not sensationalized.
oO Leave out the hypospray. Oo
Holographic figures filled the cockpit during simulations. The Thor. Their crewmates. Radiological lifeforms at various stages of development. Each recreation carried memory with it.
They might have left the holographic figure of Naledi on a touch longer than the others.
At times Meris found themselves staring at the silent hologram of their Xindi-Insectoid shipmate wondering what it would be like if Naledi ever turned that precise, many‑faceted attention fully toward them. Not in passing, but deliberately. What would it be like to feel the weight of that alien focus, the quiet hum of their presence, the strength of their arms, the way their voice clicked and resonated when they spoke Meris’ name. It was a foolish little fantasy, but it warmed the edges of their thoughts all the same and Meris found themselves unzipping their uniform tunic just a smidge as the heat rose within their chest.
In quieter moments, Meris turned their attention to the African Violet.
They read the care instructions from Commander DeVeau slowly, twice.
Meris: Indirect light. Consistent hydration. Stability.
They adjusted the environmental controls by half a degree, then watched the plant for any sign of distress.
Meris: You are remarkably resilient.
They studied it thoughtfully.
Meris: You deserve a name.
The violet offered nothing but continued existence.
Meris considered carefully.
Meris: Something reflective of your purpose.
A beat.
Meris: Olive.
The name settled, warm and right.
Meris smiled, more fully this time. Relaxed.
Meris: Welcome aboard, Olive.
The runabout passed through the wormhole, carrying a pilot, an educator, and a living symbol of reconciliation.
At the end of the journey, Meris felt it clearly.
Their life was not winding down.
It was finally, deliberately, beginning.
---
Ensign Meris
Helmsperson
USS Thor
A240207M14