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Which part of you will begin at your own end?
Which part of you will you let live again?
- Mary Lambert, "Sum Of Our Parts"
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Discovery’s lounge always felt extra cozy after an away mission. The deep blue walls were the color of Earth’s sky just after sunset. The gold lighting made the bottles behind the counter gleam like treasure. The chairs were so soft, it was real work to haul yourself back out of them, especially after an away mission. Jett Reno slumped into the most secluded one she could find.
Naturally, it wasn’t long before Dr. Culber joined her. The counsellor never could see someone sitting alone without checking whether or not they wanted to.
“Hi, Jett,” he said. “Good to see you in one piece.”
“Good to be in one piece,” she drawled, making him chuckle.
“Athena’s a beautiful ship, isn’t she? The design’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before. Paul and Adira can’t stop talking about it. Those wings … ”
“Oh, sure.”
As an engineer, usually Jett’s response would have been a lot more enthusiastic. Starfleet’s brand-new training ship, which she and her team had just helped to repair after a run-in with Venari Ral pirates during the shakedown cruise, was indeed beautiful. Tonight, though, she had other things on her mind.
“You and Commander Thok seemed to hit it off,” Hugh added, as casually as if he didn’t know he’d just hit the proverbial nail on the head.
Jett scowled into her martini. Had she really been that obvious, or did Hugh just know her too well? No point trying to deny it. He’d go away if she told him to, of course, but then she’d only be right back where she started - stewing over the problem all by herself. She had learned the hard way that this method rarely solved anything.
“I got a message from her, actually,” she mumbled. “Not long after we left. She wants to meet up next time we get the chance. For a sparring session. And, uh … not only that, I think, judging from her tone.”
Commander Thok had a voice that could carry through explosions, but dropped to a throaty purr in private messages. Jett had asked Zora to play it at least three times before throwing her commbadge across the room, whereupon the A.I. had kindly suggested the lounge as a place to unwind.
“Ooh?” Hugh’s voice began to lilt upward playfully, happy for his friend, which at any other time she would have found endearing. One look at her expression, though, and he became serious again. “And what was your answer?”
“Nothing! … Yet.”
“Sounds like a simple question. Yes or no.”
“She’s half Klingon, Doc.”
Hugh lowered the small glass of coconut rum he had been about to drink from and set it down rather suddenly on the table. He clasped his hands in his lap as if to prevent them from shaking, or perhaps to say a silent prayer. He rarely showed any outward signs of what he had gone through these days (at least not to most people; Paul and Adira probably saw more of it), but Jett knew better than to believe he had forgotten. She wished she hadn’t brought it up, but he had asked.
“I see,” he said at length.
“I know it was nine hundred years ago,” Jett burst out. “I know it’s not fair to judge someone for what their ancestors did. I know she’s got no more to do with the war than I’ve got with, with … I dunno, the Crusades … but that’s just not what it feels like.”
“What does it feel like?” Hugh asked quietly.
“Like I’d be spitting on my wife’s grave. And on yours.”
Natalya Sylvanovna didn’t even have a grave. The Klingons had bombed Soyouz Colony, proudly named after some of Earth’s earliest spacecraft, to dust and ashes. Many casualties could only be identified by DNA tracing. For the longest time, Jett had told herself that Tasha might have gotten away. Tasha was - had been - a planner by nature. She’d planned their wedding to the last detail. She would have had a plan in place for an emergency. Jett had badgered the records office until they threatened to kick her out, but eventually she’d had no choice but to accept that Tasha was gone.
Hugh, by contrast, although the remains of his first body had been sent home to his family in Puerto Rico nine hundred years ago, was undeniably alive - and for all his quietness, there was something very stern about him the next time he spoke.
“I can’t speak for your wife,” he said, “But I’ll be the judge when it comes to my own grave, thank you very much. For my friend to take a chance on what might make her happy … that doesn’t sound like spitting to me.”
Jett hadn’t even realized she was about to cry until a tear dropped onto the ice cubes in her glass. She swiped it away with her fist.
“You sure do know how to cut the bullshit,” she said gruffly. “Huh, Counselor?”
“Let’s just say this crew gives me a lot of practice.”
She slugged him on the arm. He caught her fist and placed it on the table, disarming her as gently as he’d done it with his words a moment before.
“As your counselor, I’m not going to make decisions for you about your personal life,” he said. “It’s up to you to decide whether it’s worth the risk. But as your friend, I do have one question to ask you. What did you think of Commander Thok before you found out what species she was?”
Jett didn’t have to think for long to know the answer to that question.
She thought of the moment she, Hugh, Rayner and their support team had beamed aboard the Athena, and found Commander Thok fighting the pirate captain in the transporter room. The floor had been covered with unconscious Venari Ral. Jett had been, if only for a moment, transfixed by the Commander’s fighting style; it didn’t seem possible that someone so large and strong could move so swiftly. But with the pirate’s shock spear suddenly far too close to the first officer’s neck, Jett had acted without thinking. She’d stunned the man with a phaser burst from behind.
Commander Thok had whirled around, sword still raised, revealing a slate-gray face with spikes like a komodo dragon’s. “What gives you the right to steal my victory?”
“You called for help,” Jett had shot back. “Don’t be offended when help shows up.”
She had lifted her chin, determined not to let this force of nature intimidate her, although she could have snapped Jett like a twig if she had felt like it. Instead, the Commander’s spiky face had lit up with a broad grin, her warmth as all-encompassing as her anger.
“Hah! Fair point,” she’d said. “Come with me, comrades. Let me show you to Sickbay and Engineering. There are still battles for us to fight.”
Jett thought of a pair of spring-green eyes in a face twisted by burn scars, pleading with her, then finally falling closed. She had prolonged that young ensign’s suffering for much too long because he’d reminded her of Tasha.
Lura had black eyes. They blazed with pride when she fought and twinkled when she smiled.
Battles still to fight, indeed.
“I thought: Damn,” she said, answering Hugh’s question. “That’s my kind of woman.”
Hugh merely smiled.
“If you’ll excuse me, Doc,” Jett dragged herself up out of her chair. “I’ve got a message to answer.”
“Tell her I said hello,” he called after her as she marched out the door.