Friendship first steps

Posted on Mon Jul 28th, 2025 @ 12:13pm by Tristi Richardson & Selari Vonn

Mission: Season 6: Echoes of the Zynari
Location: Deck Ten, Civilian Observation Lounge
Timeline: MD6 - Late Afternoon
591 words - 1.2 OF Standard Post Measure

Tucked into the curve of the promenade’s upper level, a quiet civilian observation lounge overlooked the starfield beyond. The wide window revealed a slowly rotating panorama of the Circinus Galaxy, dense with pale stars and veils of cosmic dust. Inside, it was quieter than usual—most civilians and off-duty officers were still recovering from the ship’s increasingly strange pranks: floating chairs, mysterious glitter clouds, and singing replicators.

Selari Vonn sat cross-legged in a corner seat, a stylus in one hand and a tablet cradled in her lap. The Bajoran ridges on her nose caught the light, her Vulcan calm visible in every motion. She wasn't watching the stars; she was watching people.

Or rather—one person.
Tristi Richardson walked in a bit hesitantly, clutching a simple synth-weave bag against her side. Her eyes flicked around the lounge until they landed on Selari. There was no laughter here. No whispered insults. No sideways glances.

So, she made her way over.

Selari didn’t move. “The seat beside me is unoccupied.”

Tristi slid in, dropping the bag by her boots. “Didn’t feel like going home yet.”

Selari didn’t press. She merely turned her stylus end over end in one hand. “You were in the school wing when the holoprojectors malfunctioned.”

“Yeah.” Tristi’s voice was flat. “Someone put a holographic cloak on me that made me look like a Tellarite in a clown suit.”

“Impressive coding,” Selari noted, raising a brow. “Immature, but effective.”

Tristi laughed dryly. “Everyone else thought so too.”

A pause settled between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Out the viewport, a dust cloud shimmered faintly—highlighted by a nearby star’s dim light. Then Selari spoke again, quietly. “You like plants.”

Tristi looked over, surprised. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You stop at the botanical window by the promenade nearly every afternoon.” Selari tapped her stylus against the tablet. “You hesitate, then move on. Like you’re trying not to want something.”

Tristi looked down. “Guess I just like the quiet. It doesn’t care where I came from.”

“The plants don’t,” Selari said, her voice soft. “The people do. But that is their flaw, not yours.”

Tristi glanced sideways at her. “Do they care where you came from?”

Selari was silent for a long moment. “They do. I am told I am too emotional for a Vulcan, too distant for a Bajoran. I find it inefficient. But… I have learned to cultivate what peace I can in the cracks.”

“You sound like someone who reads poetry,” Tristi murmured.

“I do not.” Selari hesitated. “But I write it.”

Tristi blinked. “Really?”

Selari gave the barest tilt of her head. “Only in code. It helps organize my thoughts.”

They sat together for a while, not speaking, as the ship’s promenade flickered to life behind them with the buzz of civilians and crew—restless from the mischief the Zynari had left scattered through their daily routines.

“Would you show me sometime?” Tristi asked finally. “The code. Or maybe… teach me how to make something like that?”

Selari regarded her for a long second. “I will. But not here.”

“No?” Tristi asked, frowning.

Selari leaned closer, her voice lower. “There are too many distractions on Deck Ten. We need somewhere the stars can’t see us quite so clearly.”

Tristi smirked. “That a Vulcan thing?”

“No. That’s a friend thing.”

And for the first time since Tristi had boarded the USS Elysium, someone had said it plain.

She smiled, nodding slowly. “Okay. Deal.”

TBC