Ripple Lens
The Elysium's isn't a standard five-year exploratory mission; rather, the work they've been assigned is meant to be completed within a period of one year, perhaps two. Exploration of the Aegis system has been designated not for education and the fulfillment of humankind so much as for the quelling of an unease in the Federation, since...
Since the Aionites, twin beings, fell from Rhadamanthus (the principal of the three planets in the system, along with Aeacus and Minos, which together orbit the weak sun Aoidos), as though dislodged from a fundamental yet insignificant base gravity, and while the male sibling immediately surged back to the center of the system to plot destruction of the organic assemblage now seen to be imperfect - and more than that, egregiously flawed -, the female sibling remained in Federation custody on the station that collected her.
It had seemed patently obvious to the directors that the only way to stop Malos was to bring Mythra to bear against him. They had summarily ignored her personal protests of not knowing his motives and not being able to do much of anything to stop him if she even cared; it shocked her that he cared, or even seemed to, acting unspurred, but a theory had been put forward that A'mal T'hsu, the Vulcan that had alerted the Federation of the lost Aionite floating in their space, had something to do with it.
Minoth, Captain Addam Origo's first officer and not-Yeoman Mythra's de facto supervisor, also has thoughts on this theory, but he doesn't share them, and Mythra isn't sure quite how to prod. She's frustrated enough with the fact that her intersection with humanity has to coincide with Minoth's own personal self-manifestation, as he pines after a human whose illogic doesn't even follow the patterns of poetic beauty that he treasures and who is basically inaccesible to him, owing to command structures.
"You're all just kinda uselessly attached to each other, huh?" she wonders at him, watching him file reports with an alacrity she knows his old superior never would have inspired.
"I wouldn't call it useless." Minoth's replies are short, sometimes verging almost slang-ish, for a Vulcan, while Mythra's natural pattern appears to be an almost didactic demonstration of what she'd call "pure vibes". Minoth appreciates vibes, but they chafe somewhat at his command responsibilities. "This field has its own unique, profound beauties. The loyalty of subordinates and superiors is just one part of that."
"Yeah, but..." Mythra swings her legs, endlessly incredulous at how well human-engineered materials resist stocking runs. Sure, if she'd pulled the polymers together, they'd be perfect, but how could the monkeys who ran this bucket of bolts do that? It is a quiet bucket of bolts, though. "Like. I'd kill myself if I had to work for him."
Oh, okay. That's a normal thing to say, Mythra. But that's just how the Aionites are. Malos speaks in a manner similarly reactionary. They appear to be something of biocomputer beings, and Minoth can't believe they were actually designed to speak that way, but...
"Well! How's it coming, you two?"
Addam can't make a single statement without sounding like he's bounding proclamations for kingdoms of old. On Earth, he came from an English mother and a Mongolian father. Minoth often settles himself in confidence that it's not fetishistic; he really is just fascinated with human cultures.
And he'd have an easier time of that, of course, if he didn't have such a stringent upbringing faced toward his own difficulties with integration as either human or Vulcan, one or the other, and never so celebratedly both.
"Mythra," Minoth says, lightly but tightly. "I would advise you turn that train of thought which you've just so violently trained upon me toward your brother - via my own degrees of logical adjacency to it, for maximum effect."
Put another way: what about if you, or I, or he, had to work for him? And how would that be, then?
(What Mythra holds against Addam is his patronizing nature, however accidental or unwilling. He just has that way with her; he doesn't see, innately, that she can fend for herself, so he bends himself over stupid to try to do something about it, and no one could be much worse for the job, except that starships don't take good intentions to hell.)
Bemused expressions decorate both captain and guest, one markedly more aggressive than the other.
"Is she doing alright?" Addam asks, sliding in next to Minoth at his desk once Mythra's gone. He keeps a respectful distance between their legs (thighs, the secret erogenous zone) and subconsciously matches Minoth's posture, but he's far too comfortable for a normal working relationship.
"The ship doesn't appear to be in danger." Minoth signs another report, then offers the PADD to Addam without ceremony. That, perhaps, is his favorite part. Never in his life had he done a moment of work for A'mal T'hsu and had it be anything like natural, fluid, or mutually respectful.
Attached to each other, certainly. Even for this short mission - especially for this short mission - they live in each other's pockets, because even though their goal is repeating the feat of dislodging Malos's imminent supernova, there are other lifeforms in the system that could benefit from Federation resources.
The PADD is handed back. The pen moves superlatively neatly, again fluidly, from gold-striped hand to blue-striped hand. They're good at commanding, together. Some aspects of this, Minoth enjoys even more than work as a solitary communications officer.
"After this is over..."
Addam trails off. Past materializations of the same sentiment have never really resulted. The rest of the thought goes: after this is over, will you stay on my crew? Of course, Minoth has to reply, that's assuming you retain a command, and whatever nepotism it is that got you out here, do you even want it? Not with anything sizable, you don't.
You just want me. But you can't have me without a command, now, can you?