Chapter Text
“Respectfully, Captain, I do not see why she needs to be the one sent to examine this anomaly, let alone why I need to go with her.”
Burnham took a deep breath and tried to focus on her pre-flight check, but Commander Saru’s pained tone was difficult to ignore. As was Captain Lorca’s tone of light amusement. Captain Georgiou had often derived amusement from the interactions between her first officer and her science officer, but this was... less well-intentioned, to say the least.
“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t send her?” Lorca asked, putting on a show of obtuseness. He knew full well why Saru didn't want Burnham to go, or to be forced to accompany her, or have her on the ship at all. And Saru knew that the captain knew, but that didn’t prevent him from reiterating the obvious.
“It would be remiss of me not to point out that the last time Michael Burnham was sent to investigate an anomalous occurrence, she started a war.”
“Well, now you’ve pointed it out, so you may consider your duties satisfied, Commander. Have a good trip.”
“Captain—”
“Commander. Do you really expect Burnham to ignite a second war on this away mission? Two in one year is a record I can’t see anyone managing accidentally. I’m sending her because she’s doing good work, and this is the sort of problem she’s best at. And I’m sending you so that if there is any danger, you can pull rank on Burnham and get yourselves the hell out of there.”
“If she’ll follow orders.”
Burnham felt Lorca’s eyes on the back of her head.
“She’ll follow orders.”
Lorca departed the shuttle and Saru boarded in an entirely ill humor. “Pre-flight check is complete,” Burnham reported quietly. “We’re ready for take-off.”
“I’ll run the check again,” said Saru, biting his words off short. “If you don't mind.”
“Of course not.”
The more things change, Burnham thought with exhaustion, the more they stay the same. Her time on the Shenzhou had been full of what Captain Georgiou had fondly called ‘head-butting” between her first officer and her science officer. Saru, she knew, disliked her as much as he respected her. For her part, Burnham had always felt sisterly feelings towards her colleague. Saru reminded her so much of her foster brother, now serving in Starfleet himself, and their competitive back-and-forth felt entirely familiar and comfortable to Burnham.
But it was a dynamic she had never attempted to describe to Saru, and she understood that the time for that was long past. Even if she could have explained, Saru had no interest in being considered her brother now. Not even Spock was willing to acknowledge her anymore. And Captain Georgiou was...
“I have completed my checks,” Saru announced. “Before we leave, I want your word that if I sense any danger of any kind – any kind whatsoever – you will turn this shuttle around and return to Discovery.”
“Saru, I’m not going to deliberately put you in danger for the sake of a few scans and samples.”
“Your word, Burnham.”
“If you don’t trust my intentions without my word, why will you trust me with it?”
Saru’s sea-green eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust you at all.” He gestured to a light on his console, indicating that all of their conversation was being recorded, and in the event of the shuttle's destruction, would be transmitted to the black box. “But I want your response on the record.”
Burnham said nothing in reply, only finalized both pre-flight checks and signaled to the shuttle bay crew that they were ready to depart.
It took them approximately thirty minutes to approach the anomaly, to reach a hopefully-safe distance that would still allow them to take detailed scans for study. Sensors told Burnham when they were in position, but there was nothing to be seen through the forward windows but the usual vista of deep space. She felt a vague sense of disappointment; she had hoped for something more visually intriguing.
Discovery’s initial readings had indicated heavy ionizing radiation, so the shuttle’s shields had been reinforced, but they would not last long under constant bombardment from ion particles. “Shields are at one hundred percent and holding,” she reported.
“Good. Let’s just hope they stay that way long enough for us to get what we came for.” Saru’s long fingers pressed the controls with delicate precision. “Hmm. That’s interesting. There is a significant level of polaron particles being emitted from the anomaly. We’re practically enveloped in them. Can the shields withstand these?”
“Yes, for a little while.”
“How long?”
“Approximately twelve-point-nine minutes.” Burnham leaned closer to study his display, and tried not to take offense at how he canted his tall body away from her, considering that Kelpians as a culture were not particular about their personal space. “That’s strange. Polaron particles aren’t physically capable of existing in the presence of ionizing radiation.”
“No.” Saru snaked an arm past her, elbowing her back. “They should be converted into polaric ions.”
“Perhaps the polaron particles are a byproduct of the anomaly, somehow?
“That is a theory, although not a particularly plausible one,” Saru said, rather condescendingly. “Think about it: if that’s the case, why they aren’t being immediately ionized by the radiation as fast as they’re produced? Certainly they don’t appear to be at high enough levels to pose any kind of dangerous instability—”
The shuttle suddenly lurched up and then back down, with such an abrupt jolt that they were knocked into the forward panels.
“Ow,” Burnham said loudly, after a moment. “Thanks for the warning. You could have mentioned we were about to hit a speed bump.”
“We didn’t hit anything, and kindly do not blame me for the shuttle’s bad behavior. I sense the presence of death, not mechanical inconvenience.” Saru’s profile positively bristled with resentment. “Are the shields holding?”
“Yes, although the external sensors were knocked off-line. They’re rebooting now.”
“Once they’re finished, we should turn back. We didn’t take the possibility of polaron radiation into account.”
“Agreed, sir.” If he was waiting for her to argue, he was disappointed. “But it wasn’t the shuttle’s fault. We hit something – or were hit by something. I thought you said there was no instability,” Burnham grumbled, rubbing her forearm where it had hit the dash panel.
“No dangerous instability,” Saru retorted. “And the polaron levels weren’t high enough! I sensed no threat and neither did the scanners!”
“Normally, I’d trust your threat ganglia over a shuttlecraft’s scanners any day, but I think they were too busy talking down to me...” The external sensors beeped, and at the readings, Burnham frowned. “That’s odd. We’re detecting a ship, about five thousand kilometers, immediately ahead of us.”
“Did it come from the anomaly?”
“No... Saru, the anomaly’s changed positions. It’s behind us.” Burnham could suddenly hear her heart pounding in her ears, in spite of all her Vulcan calming techniques. “It would appear that we went though the anomaly.”
He stared at her blankly; his face did not have the requisite muscles for detailed expression, but his eyes were horrified. Swiftly, he turned and began running calculations. “What kind of ship are we approaching?” he demanded. “We may need to take evasive action.”
“Federation vessel,” Burnham reported after a moment. “Walker-class. Coming into view now...”
She trailed off, staring out the shuttle's forward screen in utter astonishment. Distantly, she heard Commander Saru's equally dumbfounded, "It can't be." On the dash, the subspace indicator blinked.
"They are hailing us," said Burnham, her voice gone eerily calm.
"Don't answer. We should go back."
"There's nothing to go back to. Sensors indicate that Discovery is gone. Or more accurately, was never there to begin with."
"Burnham, we can't be seeing what we're seeing."
"'When you have eliminated the impossible,'" she replied, quoting an old Earth story about a detective whom her foster-mother claimed to be descended from, "'whatever remains, however improbable—'"
"This is beyond improbable, this is beyond madness!"
"'—must be true.'" Burnham reached for the subspace transmitter and switched it on.
"--do you copy? Unknown shuttle, this is the USS Shenzhou, can you respond? Do you copy?"
"Affirmative, Shenzhou," said Burnham firmly, gazing up at the ship she had inadvertently caused to be destroyed. "We copy."
***
Onboard the Shenzhou's bridge, at the sound of the voice responding to their hails, Captain Philippa Georgiou went pale. "It can't be."