A Vulcan-Bajoran-Terran hybrid of some sort, then?

Posted on Fri Nov 14th, 2025 @ 3:33pm by Tristi Richardson & Selari Vonn & Commodore Phoenix Lalor-Richardson

Mission: Season 6: Episode 6: Conglomerate
Location: Various
Timeline: Md3 - Early Morning
753 words - 1.5 OF Standard Post Measure

The soft hum of the environmental systems was broken only by the chirp of water sensors and the faint rustle of leaves swaying under artificial light. The ship’s internal clock had just ticked over to morning shift, though the arboretum always carried its own rhythm — slower, gentler, more forgiving.

Tristi had dozed off against the planter wall, one hand still resting near the potting tray. A smudge of dirt marked her cheek, and a single vine from a nearby creeper had somehow wound itself loosely through her hair during the night.

Selari was still awake, just, seated nearby with a steaming cup of replicated tea balanced neatly on one knee. She’d spent the last few hours re-calibrating the nutrient feed regulators — not because they needed it, but because the repetitive logic soothed her mind.

When the doors slid open with a quiet hiss, both girls turned — one bleary-eyed, the other composed.

Commodore Phoenix Lalor-Richardson stepped in, still in her duty uniform but carrying the faint look of someone who hadn’t slept much herself. Her gaze softened when she saw them.

“So this is where you’ve both been hiding,” Phoenix said gently. Her voice carried no reprimand — only understanding. “Half the ship’s been wondering if you two fell into a maintenance shaft.”

Tristi rubbed her eyes, muttering, “Didn’t fall. Just… forgot to leave.”

Selari rose, straight-backed but uncertain. “We were repairing the hydroponic lighting systems,” she offered, holding out the tool Tristi had abandoned. “They were misaligned after the… incident.”

Phoenix’s eyes flicked from the panel to the pair of mismatched seedlings potted between them — one delicate green vine and one squat, oddly leafed sprout. “And this?”

Tristi glanced at Selari, then shrugged. “A project.”
Selari nodded. “A collaboration.”

Phoenix arched a brow, amused. “A Vulcan-Bajoran-Terran hybrid of some sort, then?”

“More like… hope,” Tristi said under her breath.

For a long moment, Phoenix said nothing. She crouched down beside the planter, running a finger gently through the soil before straightening again. “Then let’s make sure it grows,” she said softly. “Both of you — take breakfast first. Then report to Science Lab Two. They’re looking for hands to help catalogue surviving samples. I think they’d appreciate yours.”

Tristi blinked. “Seriously?”

Phoenix smiled faintly. “Consider it official work — and unofficial therapy.”

Selari inclined her head. “Understood, Commodore.”

When Phoenix left, the girls exchanged a glance.

“Science Lab Two,” Tristi repeated. “You think she’s serious?”

Selari allowed the faintest hint of humor to touch her voice. “I believe she is… and I also believe they will regret allowing us unsupervised access to microscopes.”

Tristi snorted, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Then let’s not disappoint them.”

The door slid shut behind them, leaving behind the faint scent of soil and the quiet hum of a new beginning — two seedlings, side by side, catching the light.

==
Commodore's ready Room
==

To: Commander Mattias Richardson
Timestamp: 2398.05.03 – 0930 hours
Subject: Tristi and Selari

Message begins

Mattias,

I found them this morning — Tristi and Selari — in the arboretum. I should have expected it, really. Where else would two half-lost souls go when the world’s still burning around them?

They’d fallen asleep beside a planter. Tristi had dirt on her face again, of course, and Selari was sitting there as if she’d been standing guard all night. Between them, they’d planted something new — two mismatched seedlings in the same soil. Tristi called it a “project.” Selari called it a “collaboration.” I think both of them were right.

They’re both carrying more than any child should have to. Tristi still flinches when the lights flicker, and Selari hasn’t laughed in weeks — not properly. But this morning, there was something different. Something small, fragile… alive. They talked. They worked together.

I told them Science Lab Two could use help cataloguing the surviving hydroponic samples. It’s not just about keeping them busy — it’s about letting them feel needed. I think that’s what’s been missing since the attack.

You’d be proud of them, love. You always see the good in people — even the broken ones. I’m trying to do the same.

I know the ship is healing, piece by piece. Maybe the crew is too. Watching those two this morning gave me something I hadn’t felt since the breach: a little bit of peace.

I’ll see you tonight after duty shift — if the universe cooperates. Bring coffee. The real kind.

— Phoenix