The doors hissed shut behind Lieutenant Junior Grade Vialah Pruzun. The soft click of the seal echoed faintly across the polished deck. Silence was broken only by the quiet rustle of hands at work.

Mellstoxx III hung wide and serene beyond the windows. Forests blanketed the planet in velvety green. Light mist still clung to the valleys as dawn stretched sunlit fingers across the horizon. Caaral couldn’t feel the appreciation he normally felt at the sight.

“Unbelievable. She said she couldn’t imagine celebrating at a time like this,” the Trill-Human hybrid muttered. He opened the first crate with a press to the seal. It released with a soft click and short burst of chilled air. Inside were neat bundles of deep green and orange fabric. “I’ve been assigned to nothing but twelve-hour shifts since the Vaadwaur showed up. And what was that she said about being above the festival because she’s from Tenar? My grandmother’s aunt was from Kural, right across the sea.”

He tossed an armful of colorful tablecloths into a pile in the center of a large table. His honey brown eyes didn’t even study the intricate patterns that crisscrossed their border. The crew present volunteered to help set up and run a celebration of a traditional Trill event translated as the Summer Flame Festival.

“It would’ve taken ten seconds to sort this stuff before transport,” Caaral said before glancing around the sparsely populated room. He moved to grab more folded cloth. A PADD stood waiting for him to manually verify the inventory. “I’m getting tired of being treated like a battery.”

“Speaking of batteries…” Kazjra pulled an ornate glass sculpture out of one of the crates. There was a switch at the bottom that ought to have lit it up in the colors of a dancing flame. She flicked it back in forth in irritation several times, then sighed and marched over to the wall. With the push of a button, a charging pad emerged, and she set the sculpture in the center.

“Did she drain hers with all the complaining she’s been doing? Must be rough, having to commute back and forth from her quarters to the communications center every day.” She returned to the stack of crates, and pulled the next one marked ‘fragile’. It took all her willpower to set it gently on the table instead of dropping it to hear the satisfying bang. “Meanwhile, I’m running back and forth across this city in space multiple times a day at everyone’s beck and call to keep their ships and their generators and their replicators functioning. So if I want to celebrate, I’m going to celebrate, damn it!”

She pulled a large piece of foam off the top of the crate and flung it backwards over her shoulder as she spoke. The air resistance of the foam and its gentle drop to the floor were wholly unsatisfying.

“I know, right?” Caaral’s intensity appeared sympathetic. He leaned over the next opened crate like it had personally wronged him. “Do you know what I’d give to just ride the turbolifts like a normal person? To not clean the biofilters or log what I find afterwards. I’ve seen stuff in there that would turn your hair gray. Every Wednesday, I have to report the same clog like some sad, space-bound janitor.”

He pulled a bundle of flame-colored fabric out, not even looking at it before dropping it next to the tablecloths. “I spent most of the Blackout doing stuff I was barely trained for. They had me modifying science sensors with almost no Operations support. I don’t even think they logged what I did. When I learned of my assignment to Starbase Bravo, I was told I’d be able to work towards my studies in virology and have time to prepare for the exams.”

The bitterness in his voice cracked slightly to reveal something more fragile beneath. Caaral reached for the PADD to tick off the items. “My med entrance equivalency exam was scheduled to be two weeks ago. With the workload I was forced to tend to, I missed the deadline. I was so ready. It had been months of preparation. The Vaadwaur showed up and everything just fell apart.” More folded cloth was tossed onto the pile.

He glanced toward the wide viewport to see Mellstoxx III in the midst of an agonizingly slow orbital rotation. “Now I’m stuck running diagnostics and tending to labs within Science Section Four. No leadership potential, no research or traction. Only busywork and waiting.”

Caaral looked up at Kazjra finally, hints of cynicism in his voice as he spoke. “But hey, at least your broken replicators don’t molt in the lab sink. If I have to bathe one more marsupial with irritable scent glands, I might start rooting for another blackout.”

“Hmm, you think it’ll get any better once you pass that exam?” Kazjra asked, the tone of her voice warning away the possibility of an answer. “I have a doctorate, and I’m still fixing replicators. And if you think they’re easier to work with because they don’t have scent glands, you haven’t smelled some of the things people try to replicate.”

She threw open the lid of the next crate, and it jangled. As she pulled out a set of chimes, five more sets came with it, like a tinkling rat’s nest. Her voice was low and harsh as she proceeded to untangle them, as though she were speaking to the chimes instead of Caaral. “I completed a dissertation on subspace topology that they’re still talking about at my old university, and I’m here instead. I was the chief engineer on one of the finest ships in the fleet, and I’m here instead. Sometimes your life starts on a downward trajectory and you have no clue, and by the time you do, it’s too late to stop it. Sometimes stagnation might be the better alternative.”

Caaral’s jaw had tightened as soon as she said the word doctorate. His hands paused over the next open crate. Inside lay neat rows of stacked torches. Each one was sheathed in a fine, biodegradable wrap that shimmered like the translucent wings of an insect. He reached in and began lifting them one by one. Each was laid down gently in the corner with reverence.

The torch stalks were carved from rare hardwoods in bright reds and deep orange. Their polished grain danced in the light with a quilted pattern of shimmering fibers. The burn chambers atop each one were ringed in metal somewhere between rose gold and champagne.

“Stagnation is overrated,” he muttered softly. “All my parents ever do now is ask when I’ll get my doctorate.” He set down another torch. “I’d take some engineering job in a second, compared to where I’m stuck. It has to be better than doing everyone else’s prep work while my own research dreams blow out the air filter.”

He let out a deep breath, but it didn’t relax his body.

“I want to keep studying. Now I can’t even think clearly long enough to skim an abstract. Ever since that patrol-” Caaral paused as he bent to grab another torch. “It’s like something snapped. I haven’t slept a full night since without a hypospray. Melatonin, valerian root or no other natural remedies are working. When I do sleep, I get dreams I can’t shake off. I’ve bombed every timed exam I’ve taken since. I never used to snap like this either. Now I hear myself talking and don’t even recognize the tone.”

He laid down the last torch with a soft clink and wiped his palms down the sides of his uniform.

Golden-brown eyes flicked toward Kazjra. “Maybe it’s just that science officers get no credit. You don’t just fix replicators.” The spotted man’s emphasis was on the word ‘just’. “Gold shirts are seen as heroic saviors. People like me will never be recognized.”

Kazjra struggled with the entangled chimes for another moment before letting them drop to the table. She took a long, deep breath that came out as a sigh. It was time to put a stop to this downward spiral, and as the older of the two by either a decade or three centuries, depending on how one counted, she supposed it was her job.

“People like you are the reason Starfleet exists,” she said, still glaring at the chimes on the table. “We may forget that sometimes, but everything we build–” She tugged at her uniform collar to emphasize the point. “Everything we fix, every ship they point at the sky and fly to the stars: it’s all in service to the act of learning.”

She pivoted so that she was looking at Caaral directly. “And if it doesn’t feel that way right now, then maybe you need to talk to someone. It sounds like you went through something pretty heavy during the Blackout.”

Kazjra cleared her throat and fidgeted, uncertain if her next admission would be helpful or harmful. “I mean, I nearly bled out in a Jefferies tube on Frontier Day. I couldn’t handle enclosed spaces for months afterwards. And space? Space is really just a whole bunch of enclosed spaces! They had to send me planet-side to convalesce. And it took a while, but… I made it back!”

She gestured vaguely at their surroundings. Whether she meant the space station, the view down to the planet, or both, was not clear.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. Frontier Day was a tough time”, Caaral said as he stepped away from the boxes. “I guess I should finally admit things have been out of sorts to the counselors.”

He turned to face the planet as she gestured. Clouds swirled above its surface in a distant tempest. “Tight spaces are no joke either.”

Caaral’s tone was more understanding. “Sometimes it’s easy to forget why we do what we do. Counselor Ixbran tells me to stay mindful and focus on each moment.”

His gaze turned to the supplies waiting to be opened. “I’m sure things will feel nicer once the festival starts.” Hints of a smile crossed his golden features. “Here’s to the rebirth of the summer’s flame.”