Sinking into the corner of his sectional sofa, Sark draped a heavy blanket over his shoulders. He squeezed the fluffy cloth around his neck, taking small comfort in the sensation against his skin. At the same time, Sark adjusted the blanket to hide the teal shoulders of his uniform. His sister had always been outwardly supportive of his decision to join Starfleet, but her criticisms of the organisation itself tended to slip out when she’d had a couple of drinks.

Sark plucked up a coupe of Enolian sparkling spice wine from the end table. He knew it was essential to enjoy it while it was still cold. The bottle had been a gift from his mother, shipped directly from Argelius II for his birthday. Of course, she had gotten confused about the routing or calendar. The gift had arrived late. Four months late. This night felt like the proper night to toast with a drink imbued by such chaotic energy.

“Computer,” Sark said, looking to the LCARS display protruding from the end table, “begin recording.”

Even when he considered speaking to his sister without hearing her voice, Sark could hear his Argelian accent becoming more pronounced with each passing statement.

He asked, “Lottie, what do you call that feeling when you meet a new stranger, but he already seems to know your favourite songs? Somehow, he knows the secret ways to make you laugh.”

“What do you call that feeling when the ground opens up between you, threatening to swallow you whole? And you can only be steadied by following the swell of his chest with each breath he takes? I don’t know what you would call it, but I call him Romal Nnekin. And he was assigned to my study group today.”

“Doctor Weld cancelled our classes and seconded us to the epidemiology lab. There’s been a rise of Cartalian fever on Sora Major and Arriana. Their local medical facilities are still recovering from the Dominion invasion and the Underspace crisis. Starfleet has been called in to understand if the outbreaks are conincidental or if the fever is spreading from colony to colony across the sector. A quarantine may be required, but losing travel between worlds would debilitate the rebuilding efforts across the sector. Our epidemiology department needs more hands and eyes to track the movements of infected patients and those of anyone they came in contact with.”

“For all its aging bones, the sensor equipment aboard Caelum Station is truly exceptional. It was originally commissioned as Shangris Station for deep-space monitoring and research. Before being towed between Deneb and Cait last year, Shangris had been located on the Breen border for decades. Those same sensors that acted as a listening post to protect the Federation’s border were overtaken by the Jem’Hadar during the invasion. The Dominion killed the entire crew and manipulated the station to track Starfleet’s movements through the sector. By the time Starfleet retook the station, the greater need was for a teaching hospital to serve Deneb.  That’s why after the corrupted Shangris Station nearly doomed the sector, it was re-commissioned as Caelum Station.”

“I was tracking shuttle flights from Arriana Prime to the moon of Arianna Five, but the subprocessors in my terminal lagged each time I cross-referenced too many passengers at once. I begged Qelreth and Trojet to trade workstations with me since they were reading post-testing interviews only one at a time. Trojet shut me down for suggesting Caelum Station might be obsolete. I begged Parze to trade with me, and she quoted her father saying only a shoddy chef blames his tools. I reminded her I was tracking patient movements, not baking a souffle.”

“That’s when Nnekin called me over to his workstation. He teased that he wouldn’t surrender the LCARS panel to me, but he needed my help with his queries. The way his golden eyes shone, and his eyebrows popped, I had to laugh.”

“He quoted something I’d said in class that I truly don’t remember saying. Half the time, once it’s out of my mouth, it’s out of my head. When Nnekin is talking, he seems easily distracted. His gaze bounces between the person he’s talking to and anyone who might be listening and looking up in moments of introspection. It’s all the more magnetic when he looks at me again, like that first breath of fresh air after you take off an EV helmet. I was helpless to resist his pull. I went over to help him in whatever way I could; my own queries could wait.”

“Nnekin was working in the corner of the lab, so there wasn’t as much room to slide my chair in beside him. Our knees touched as I leaned over to peer at his display, and I couldn’t dream of moving my knee away from his. I counted to ten in my head. He didn’t move his knee away either.”

“It only took one glance at his display to see he didn’t need my help. The rest of our squadron was barely collecting information or identifying potential patterns. Nnekin had already built entire data models. When I said as much, he shrugged and bumped his shoulder against mine.”

“Nnekin said, ‘Computers speak to me,’ and he explained how he had graduated from the academy expecting to be an operations officer. When he lost the passion for starship operations as a senior, he’d started taking medical preparatory classes on the side until our Starfleet Medical program on Caelum Station accepted him.”

“I asked him why he asked for my help, and he said it was because I was annoying everybody. When he speaks, he tosses off his words as if it’s a passing thought he’s invented at that moment. He offers his opinions without attachment, never persuading anyone to believe him. Even in such a casual manner, I was crushed that he thought of me as annoying. I jerked my knee away from his, smushing my legs against the bulkhead to give Nnekin space.”

“When I started to apologise, he put a hand on my thigh. It gave me goosebumps. The way he touched me made it feel like no one had ever actually touched me in my life. Everyone before had only been holograms.”

“Nnekin said, ‘You don’t understand. I like being annoyed. It feels great!’ And he smiled his big dumb smile at me.”

“I know what I call that feeling, Lottie: impending heartbreak.”