The cargo bay shimmered with the sky-blue glimmer of a recent transport. The faint haze the operation’s cooled matter stream still hung in the air as Ensign Kian Harol logged receipt of the cargo containers through a few quick taps of his PADD. Something about the way these dark, rectangular containers were laid out reminded him of coffins. The thought barely surfaced before he shoved it down. Everything seemed to be reminding him of death lately.

“Container Alpha-Seven-Five, secured and ready for manual inspection,” Kian muttered almost to himself.

“That’s the third time you’ve called out a crate, just like that.” The golden-haired woman’s calm voice carried hints of curiosity. “You’re starting to sound like an echo.” She tried to talk to him earlier in the shift, but he seemed to keep brushing her aside. The two had just met, with Ensign Eaglesen arriving with the Cardinal as part of a skeleton crew.

Kian turned halfway, spots running along his neck pointed towards the woman. Ensign Jenna Eaglesen was crouched beside the container with her own PADD. Her dark blonde hair caught the light the same way Talaen’s used to. Kian thought of when Talaen would yank her ponytail back after a drill. She’d grin like she could take on the universe.

He didn’t smile. Kian’s eyes looked downwards to blankly study the warmth in her expressive lips. Dark irises darted upwards to meet her gentle gaze.

“Sorry,” he finally admitted. “I’m just a bit off today.” The Trill hid the fact that he’s been feeling this way ever since he lost Talaen.

“I noticed,” she said in a supportive tone. Jenna stood and wiped her hands on her uniform. “Are you okay?”

Harol turned back to the cargo container and activated the seal with a hiss. The side folded down and opened. The box was packed with fresh medical and science equipment. Various packed supplies were stacked in vacuum-sealed rows.

“I haven’t really been the same since the Vaadwaur attacks,” he said. “I lost a friend moments after their ships first hit us.”

He didn’t say Talaen’s name or mention how he said he’d be right back. His exhausted mind replayed the fact that he only left for five minutes to get a drink. Kian didn’t mention how eagerly she’d nodded as she waved him off. He could hear the breach alarm after it went off seconds later. She was right where he was supposed to be standing. Guilt hit him when he remembered he still had the drink in his hand when he got back to Cargo Bay 3 on the Brawley.

Ensign Eaglesen didn’t speak right away. She could tell he was distracted.

“I’m so sorry,” she said after a beat. “I get that. I lost one friend during my final year at the Academy. Shuttle accident. I lost another during the Vaadwaur attack. They were my two best friends when I was 19.”

Kian closed his eyes and nodded. The silence stretched between them. The feeling was heavy, but not uncomfortable. There was something shared that felt deep between them.

He crouched to secure a container latch. Jenna crouched beside him.

“Do you ever feel like you’re trying to remember how to be around people again?” she asked. “Like everyone else can just snap back into things, but your head’s still in two timelines?”

“Every day,” Kian felt a sense of relief at her words. “Sometimes I hear or smell something. It brings me right back there. Or maybe back to one of the first quiet nights when we first came aboard the Brawley. Talaen and I sat in the observation lounge on the day we embarked. We had our off-duty hours aligned. She asked me if I ever thought about living somewhere still. Some quiet planet. She wanted a vineyard. She didn’t even like wine, just loved the way grapes grew.”

Jenna smiled faintly. “I’m from Vangazi V,” she said. “It’s a colonial world. We’ve got green valleys with snow in the highlands. It’s a diverse population, but our society is still split into nationstates. Borders. There are sadly still real wars between humans.” She shifted, eyes softer now. “I guess I joined to get as far away from that as I could. It only seems like now I’m hauling containers in a different conflict.”

“You say that like hauling containers is a bad thing,” he said with a faint smirk.

“That depends who I’m hauling containers with,” she shot back as she tapped his arm.

Kian glanced deeper into her eyes.

“I talk a lot”, Jenna said. “I’m distracting, aren’t I?” she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “In a good way, I hope.”

He sealed the container and stood. “It’s not bad.” He finished logging the box’s contents on his PADD.

Jenna rose and moved a little closer than before. “You don’t have to talk about her. But you don’t have to go quiet either. Either way, I’ll remember how important she is to you.”

He hesitated, nodded and spoke through a tight jaw. “Thanks.”

She tapped her tricorder. “The next container’s yours. After that, you owe me a story. Preferably one where nobody dies.”

He met her eyes. “I’ll try.” Ensign Harol turned to the transporter pad and tapped to signal the next beam-in.

A shimmer of blue light solidified into a dark, square box. Its matte black shell gleamed faintly.

“You want embarrassing?” he said after a few moments of thinking. “Alright. Back during my first year at the Academy, first month, even… We were assigned to do these hazard environment drills. There was a flooded compartment scenario. It was low visibility, full gear. My team was there fumbling around in waist-deep water, trying to stabilize the bulkhead seal. Someone called for a manual override tool.”

He leaned back and shook his head as the memory surged.

“I reach down to grab what I thought was the tool kit. It turned out to be somebody’s boot. I yanked it so hard that the guy face-planted into the water. Panic ensued. Someone else dropped their tricorder. I try to apologize, except I slipped on the deck plate and slammed into a side panel. This triggered a false alarm that initiated an evacuation.”

“Oh no,” Jenna grinned as she spoke.

“The instructors stopped the simulation just to replay the footage,” Kian groaned as he continued. “With commentary. Apparently, I screamed ‘I’ve got it!’ right before grabbing the boot.”

She let out a bark of laughter and nearly dropped her PADD.

“Okay, that’s beautiful,” she said. “If it helps, I had a similar moment of glory on the Walton. The Steamrunner-class was my first real assignment. It was my first month of ops duty. My task was to reroute power to a failing secondary sensor grid. Easy job, right? Turns out there was a faulty magnetic coupler and a Talarian hook spider inside the relay housing.”

Kian raised his brows and grimaced.

“This thing crawled right up my sleeve and inside my uniform,” she said. “I lost every bit of Starfleet composure inside of me. I screamed, flailed and hit my head on the console. Somehow I managed to accidentally shut down the entire sensor array for nine hours.”

Kian whistled low. “That sounds like it went over just great.”

“They called it ‘Spidergate’ for a week. My bunk was filled with spider-themed care packages. One was a tiny plush with ‘Don’t Panic’ stitched into its side.”

They both laughed, the weight of the earlier silence softened.

Kian keyed the seal to Container Beta-Three-Two. The indicator blinked green, and the front unlatched with a compressed hiss, folding open to reveal vacuum-sealed black cases nestled in dark gray foam. His PADD’s scanner verified temperature-controlled xenobotanical samples. He crouched to check the stabilization readouts while Jenna stood nearby, gaze drifting past the cargo container.

“Do you ever miss it?” he asked without looking up. “Your homeworld?”

“All the time,” Jenna replied. “I’m from a place called Vangazi V. It’s a colony settled by a mix of different Earth cultures. Mostly Scandinavian and African groups live on the continent I call home. It’s all about cultural fusion. One of the old royal houses survived the transition into colony governance, can you believe that? House Vang. Mixed heritage runs across the family. They carry the blood of four Scandinavian countries and six West African nations after all these years. They wear royal garb during festivals. Think flowing gold robes with Nordic runes stitched at the hems.”

“That’s actually kind of amazing.” The Trill tried to picture a colony of Royal humans.

“It is. The nationstate I’m from is one of the stronger powers on the planet. Vangaziland. Our culture is loud. Musical. We’re disciplined but hopefully warm.” A big smile spread across her lips. “My uncle used to say we’re taught to sing while training to fight.”

Kian chuckled. “That sounds like a place I want to visit.” He nodded faintly and closed the container’s lid. “This one’s good. Ready for transfer.”

“I’ll mark it down,” Jenna said softly. “And hey, I know I talk a lot. But you never have to pretend around me. If you ever just need to hear someone talk about hook spiders and royal robes, I can do that.”

Their eyes met again. The noise of the cargo bay faded around their thoughts. Kian’s lips twitched before spreading into a weak smile.

“I’ll take you up on that,” he said. “But no more boots or spiders, alright?” Brightness returned to his eyes for the first time in weeks.

She grinned. “No promises, Harol. You’re still on arachnoid duty if one shows up.”