It Always Watches: A Star Trek Discovery Horror Story

III: A Most Unsettling Settling-In

Burnham's hand paused on the controls for the shuttlecraft's rear loading ramp, as she winced at an unwelcome and intrusive series of memories. Another shuttlecraft, another rescue, another mysterious ship...

"What's the hold-up?" Stamets asked. Let's go."

"Sorry," Burnham said. "This all just seems uncomfortably familiar." She noticed his blank look. "Never mind," she said and lowered the ramp.

The differences between the Pretorious and Discovery were immediate and sharp. Discovery had been clean and new when she'd been herded onto her decks. The lighting had been Starfleet standard: soft and even to prevent eye-strain among the various species that made up crew. Pretorious, by contrast, was darker, like stepping into a glass building at dusk. There were a few bright overhead lights that cast large cones of furious, white light while filling the periphery of the smallish shuttlebay with stark, strange shadows.

Most significantly, though, when she'd boarded Discovery she'd been greeted by a brusque Commander Landry and her unsmiling security personnel. This shuttlebay, by contrast, was empty.

"They must be diverting all their power,"Stamets observed as he looked around the shuttlebay.

"But to what?" Burnham wondered aloud.

"Don't care," Colwyn announced. "It's just better than getting asses shot off out there."

"Where is everyone?" Lyssa asked as she stepped somewhat protectively behind Colwyn. "I thought someone would be here? Where's the crew?"

"Apologies," came Captain Crampton's voice from an unseen speaker. It was clearer than it had been on the shuttlecraft, less garbled and obscured by static. Burnham was surprised by how mellifluous and lilting it was. She must be practiced public speaker, Burnham decided. "We're operating on a skeleton crew right now. Please make yourselves comfortable, and someone should be with you shortly."

"Make ourselves comfortable in a shuttlebay?" Colwyn asked. "How the hell do we do that?"

"The place is empty," Stamets observed.

Burnham looked around. "Where are the shuttles?"

Before anyone could answer, the doorway opened with a sigh, revealing a slim, sleek silhouette. "Hello," said the woman, stepping into the light. She was pretty in a modest fashion, her honey-blonde hair tied back in practical French braid. But her eyes were intense blue. "I'm Kate McMichaels. Doctor Kate McMichaels. Sorry for leaving you here like this, I was so engrossed in my project, I didn't even know we had a shuttle land." She smiled apologetically. "Bad manners."

Burnham almost answered, but Stamets stepped forward. "That's...that's not a problem," he said, and then, as he hurriedly introduced the group, Burnham once again reminded herself of who she was and who she was no longer.

"Well you've had quite a journey. Let's get you settled in. "Unfortunately, we operating on a skeleton crew right now, so we don't have any yeoman, but I think I can handle hostess duties for the time being," she smiled dazzlingly, and Burnham revised her earlier opinion about the woman's appearance.

"We have a casualty," Burnham said. "Our shuttle pilot was killed in the rescue attempt."

"Oh, that's terrible," Doctor McMichaels said, somewhat robotically to Burnham's ears. "We'll have a casualty detail collect the remains." Her smile returned. "Why don't we start with sickbay and get you checked out? Follow me."

The corridor she led them down was as erratically-lit as the shuttlecraft, making the familiar Starfleet design suddenly seem alien and ominous. They saw no one.

"It's so empty," Burnham said.

"Yes, we're operating on a skeleton crew," Doctor McMichaels said. Burnham noted it was the third time she'd heard that phrase come out of the mouth of two people in the expanse of about ten minutes.

The sickbay was equally small and cramped—clearly Pretorious hadn't been designed for deep-space exploration, but for research and study missions that entailed parking in space and necessitated less self-sufficiency. They were greeted by a sour-looking middle-aged man in a standard uniform with blue piping.

"This is Doctor Tillinghast," Doctor McMichaels said. "He's going to examine you."

"You're going to have to bear with me," he said irritably as he sorted through a tray of medical instruments. "It's been a while since I saw patients."

"I'm sorry, what are you a doctor of?" Stamets asked.

"I'm a theoretical physicist," he replied, finally settling on the medical scanner he wanted. "Kate's a xenobiologist."

"You don't have a medical doctor? A physician?" Burnham asked.

"We used to, but we lost him when we offloaded the rest of the crew," Doctor McMichaels explained while Tillinghast scanned Lyssa, pausing every so often to adjust his scanner.

"What made you offload your crew?"

McMichaels looked at her and blinked twice. "We're conducting some critical research. Only essential personnel were assigned." Burnham waited for more, but none was forthcoming, and there was only a moment of awkward silence.

"Uh, I see..." Stamets fumbled. "Well, we...uh, what kind of research?"

"We can't talk about that," Tillinghast snapped. "You should know that—"

McMichaels cut him off. "We can discuss it later." Tillinghast threw her a poisonous look, but McMichaels's vaguely beatific expression didn't change. "Crawford? How are they?"

Tillinghast looked vaguely disoriented for a moment, as of he couldn't understand where he was or what was happening to him, then slowly answered.

"They have some minor burns and low-level smoke inhalation, but I...I think a recovery-booster should..."

"Excellent," McMichaels beamed and picked up a hypospray. "Let's get you all a quick injection and then...food, perhaps?"

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather just get some sleep," Lyssa said. "I'm exhausted."

"Actually, I am too," Colwyn said.

"Of course," McMichaels answered. "Perfectly natural after a stressful event. And you two? Commander Stamets? Specialist Burnham?"

Stamets looked over at Burnham, who wasn't really sure how to respond.

"I'd...uh. I could use some food."

"Food would be fine," Burnham added.

"Excellent," McMichaels clapped her hands together. "Maybe we could discuss our work at the mess hall."

"Kate," Tillinghast aid sharply. "I really don't think..."

"It's perfectly all right," she said brightly, then swung her unblinking blue gaze on the group. "Shall we?" she asked.