Cascading Echoes

Remembrance

After leaving Tilly in the med lab, Michael returned to her quarters with a determined stride. Once inside, she immediately initiated a search, pulling up all available records concerning Kuma. She scanned the ship's computer and the vast Federation data archives, but to her frustration, nothing directly referencing him appeared. The absence of any mention of Kuma gnawed at her, driving her to dig deeper. Her search pivoted to his parents, hoping their background might provide some clarity. His Vulcan mother and Betazoid father were well-known figures—both distinguished scientists and researchers with an impressive collection of degrees across various fields. Their accolades were many, their names spoken with respect even among the Federation Councilmembers. However, much of their work was classified—top-secret projects Michael could only guess at, adding to the growing list of mysteries surrounding Kuma's existence.

The lack of any mention of Kuma himself felt like an intentional omission, a deliberate gap in the Federation's records. Michael couldn't shake the sense that something crucial was being hidden. She did, however, uncover two siblings, a fact that only deepened her confusion. Straining to recall if Kuma had ever spoken about his family during the few missions they had shared, she came up blank. Kuma had always been a loner, a recluse who rarely engaged with the crew beyond the necessities of duty. His quiet presence had become a point of subtle mockery during mealtimes, where other members of the bridge crew would joke about his solitary nature over breakfast or dinner. Now, the irony that she was investigating him—when she had hardly spared him a contemplative thought before—was not lost on her.

Standing, she hovered over the console, tempted to search their away missions for any clues. Thinking about their shared experiences, Michael halted hearing the familiar chirp of her cabin door. Waiting as she hesitated, her heart pounding, she sighed. Michael had assumed it would be Tilly, perhaps coming to check on her after the unnerving med lab incident. Straightening her uniform and bracing herself for Tilly's empathetic concern, she called for the visitor to enter.

"Tilly, I really don't have an explanation for..." Michael had begun to say. But it wasn't Tilly.

"Perhaps we can find an explanation together, Commander," came the familiar baritone. The deep, steady voice that filled the room belonging to someone else entirely.

Michael froze. Captain Pike. She thought, turning slowly, her pulse quickening for reasons far beyond her earlier investigation. The captain's calm yet serious tone signaled that this was no casual visit. His presence alone seemed to carry the authority of unspoken revelations, and the air between them thickened as she adjusted to meet his gaze.

"Captain," she greeted him, doing her best to suppress the unease rising within her. She hadn't been expecting him—not now, not like this.

Pike stepped further into the room, his observant eyes taking in the minor clutter of Michael's quarters. Tracking his gaze, Michael watched as it rested on her workstation positioned in the far corner of the cabin.

"If I had known you were coming," she said, a bit too hastily, "I would have tidied up."

A faint smile crossed Pike's lips as he glanced toward the living area. "No need. I appreciate seeing how people really live. All this spit and polish of Starfleet officers sometimes makes us seem... more than human." He paused, then added, "Though, among certain psychologists, a messy living space is a sign of genius."

Michael couldn't help but smirk. "I'm sure Sarek wouldn't agree," she replied, referencing her adoptive father's strict adherence to order and logic.

Pike chuckled. "Neither would your brother Spock," he added with a knowing glance, his humor softening the atmosphere further. "But humans—well, we seem to thrive in a bit of chaos."