“Your calibration method appears to involve chaos.”

Posted on Fri Nov 14th, 2025 @ 4:01pm by Tristi Richardson & Selari Vonn

Mission: Season 6: Episode 6: Conglomerate
Location: Science Lab 2
Timeline: MD 3,
692 words - 1.4 OF Standard Post Measure

The lab lights hummed softly overhead, their glow reflected in polished workbenches and the faint shimmer of containment fields. Equipment cases still bore the scars of the recent Galtonian breach — tiny dents, burn marks, and hastily patched wiring where chaos had once erupted.

Now, it smelled faintly of sterilizer and soil.

Selari stood at one of the main workstations, scanning nutrient readings from the recovered hydroponic samples. Her tone was, as always, calm and clipped, but her shoulders had loosened slightly since her first day back in the labs.

“The gamma radiation exposure in these soil fragments is minimal,” she noted, entering figures with quick, deliberate taps. “Given time, we can reintroduce the specimens to the main growth trays.”

Across the room, Tristi was leaning halfway over a console, muttering at it like it owed her money.
“Yeah, sure, minimal radiation. Tell that to the console that keeps shocking me every time I try to log data.” She shook her hand out dramatically. “I swear this thing’s got it in for me.”

Selari didn’t look up. “Perhaps it is responding to your… unconventional method of interface.”

Tristi blinked. “You mean touching it?”

Selari’s lips twitched — barely noticeable, but there. “Yes. That.”

Tristi rolled her eyes and slid onto the stool beside her. “Alright, Miss Logic. What’s next on the list? These plants aren’t gonna un-mutate themselves.”

Selari turned the screen toward her. “Sample tray four. We need to re-calibrate the spectral analyser for the new chlorophyll strain.”

“Spectral analyser. Got it.” Tristi reached for the controls — and immediately sent the settings spinning into an unreadable cascade of Vulcan script.
“…Oops.”

Selari leaned over, one brow rising. “Your calibration method appears to involve chaos.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it,” Tristi shot back, grinning despite herself. “Besides, I think I found a new setting.”

“Yes. The one labelled ‘Do not touch.’”

Tristi laughed, and even Selari allowed a quiet exhale of amusement. Together they reset the analyser, Selari’s hands steady and deliberate, Tristi’s movements fast but precise once she focused. Within moments, the scanner began to hum properly, a faint blue light washing over the samples.

“There,” Tristi said proudly. “Working like a charm.”

Selari inclined her head. “Adequate.”

“Adequate?” Tristi feigned offence. “Come on, that was brilliant teamwork.”

Selari glanced sideways at her. “Then… perhaps it was satisfactory.”

“Progress,” Tristi said with a grin.

They fell into an easy rhythm after that. Selari recorded measurements; Tristi labelled and sealed containers. Occasionally they traded quiet comments — about the plants, about the way the ship still creaked in certain corridors, about anything but the attack. It was unspoken between them: the less they said about the horror of that day, the less power it held.

When the shift clock finally chimed, Tristi leaned back with a groan. “You know, I think I’m actually starting to like this science stuff. Don’t tell anyone.”

Selari looked mildly amused. “Your secret is safe. Though you have now completed nearly six hours of scientific labor without incident. Statistically, that is notable.”

Tristi smirked. “You make it sound like I deserve a medal.”

Selari handed her a small container of seedlings — two fresh sprouts, their roots just visible through the nutrient gel. “Not a medal,” she said quietly. “A contribution.”

Tristi blinked, then took the container carefully. “Are these—”

“Their first growth cycle,” Selari confirmed. “You assisted in stabilising their readings. It is… tradition, among some Vulcan scientists, to name their first successful cultures.”

Tristi studied the seedlings, something soft flickering behind her eyes. “You mean like… people?”

“Or reminders,” Selari said. “Of what survived.”

Tristi nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that.” She smiled faintly. “Guess we should name them, then.”

Selari inclined her head. “Agreed. Perhaps… Balance and Chance.”

Tristi grinned. “Not bad, Professor. Not bad at all.”

As the lights dimmed to evening mode, the two girls packed up their samples, shoulders brushing briefly in quiet, accidental camaraderie. Outside, the ship hummed on through the dark — wounded but alive — carrying two young scientists who, without revealing it, were slowly learning to heal side by side.

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