The moonlight lit up the prairie as the wind whistled through the tall grass, a concerto of birds, bugs, and whatever else skittered across the land. Ensign Deborah Porter sat on the ground, leaning against a large boulder. The crackling fire had recently been fed, and she was content to enjoy the respite in the night air. Next to her sat the most recent arrival to Montana Station, Lieutenant Commander Sienna Frisco. She was working on putting together a s’more with varying levels of success. Porter asked, “You need any help?”

Frisco’s dry chuckle was followed by a, “They don’t teach this stuff on Vulcan. I was so busy with my career, I never took the chance to go camping.” She turned to the Yeoman, “I could use some help.”

Deborah scooted over, taking stock of the remains. “First step, we gotta prep the graham cracker and the chocolate. Looks like you tried to toast first.” The ensign demonstrated the best practice and reset Sienna’s marshmallow toaster, “Now, toast to your preference.” The blank look was priceless, and Porter explained the varying techniques and opinions on marshmallow toasting times and conditions. “Everybody likes it differently.”

Sienna slipped her marshmallow onto the extended stick, asking, “What’s your preference?”

Porter pushed her stick over the fire, “I like it mostly burnt, but still gooey on the inside. It’s all about timing.” She counted in her head and then retrieved the stick, slipping it on top of her assembled graham cracker and chocolate, then gently placing the top of the s’more on the marshmallow, pulled the stick out, leaving the completed s’more. Porter grinned, “And that’s how you do it.”

Frisco blinked and went to work, taking it slow. It took two tries, but she soon had a finished product. Her first bite sent her eyes wide as she exclaimed, “Oh, that is good!” She shook her head in disbelief, “I wouldn’t trade my life on Vulcan, but damn…sometimes I’m envious of kids who grew up with all this.” She gestured to the world around them.

Porter shrugged, “I think we all want what we never had. I know I’ve been jealous of the Vulcan way of life – all those messy emotions controlled and managed through intense meditation.” She finished her s’more, relishing the memories of home around the fire pit on nights much like this one—memories of family gatherings filled with laughter, smiles, and talks that went into the midnight hour. The love had remained, even as the older family passed from this life into the next. “I’m with you in the end. I wouldn’t trade those years away for anything.” She fell into a thoughtful silence.

Sienna joined her, eyes searching the heavens. She asked, “Do you miss it?”

“This? Them?”

“Both.”

Porter felt her throat tighten with unexpected emotion. Upon landing at Montana Station, she’d spent plenty of time working to maintain the posting after having struggled in previous assignments. In that time, she’d felt something missing. As the question hung in the air, she discovered the answer was there, but she hadn’t had the time to ask the question. She let out a long sigh, her feelings heavy on her reply, “I didn’t realize until tonight how much I missed them. I focused on my time here and lost sight of them and this.” She turned to look at Frisco. “Do you miss it?”

A quiet sadness passed across Frisco’s face as she seemed to reflect on the years that had come and gone since her time on Vulcan. She remained focused on the stars above for a few more minutes before facing Porter. “Everybody has a place or people that they call home. I haven’t been back home in a long time. So many memories. So many emotions. I think I imagined my home being wherever I was posted. You believe something long enough, and it becomes true in your head.”

Porter sat up, “I know how that feels. I wish it were easier.”

Sienna leaned forward, studying her hands. “It wouldn’t be as fun.”

Deborah wasn’t sure what to say, and felt like Frisco was revealing parts of her that hadn’t seen the sun’s light in a while. She walked over to the coffee station, filled two cups, and handed one to Sienna, who took a sip. Frisco grasped the rustic cup, eyes examining the steam as it curled up from the coffee. “You went quiet,” she said.

Porter pursed her lips, “I didn’t want to pry.”

“Sienna Frisco’s Rule Number 1 – ask. Always ask.” She took a swig, eyes closing at the freshly brewed brew. “If we’re going to get along and be what Montana needs, I need you to ask.”

“As colleagues? Or friends?”

Sienna replied, “I think both. I don’t know how many friends you’ve made, but I sure as hell could use a few.”

Porter stared at the woman with curiosity. Friendship was something she wasn’t good at on the best of days. Would she be worth the risk? She replied, “I think I can work with that.”