Seven Observations of a Nebula (Star Trek XI gen, PG)

[browngirl]

Title: Seven Observations of a Nebula
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Rating: PG at most
Pairing: NONE.
Summary: Exactly what it says on the label.
Content Advisory: Some science, some science fiction.
Acknowledgements: lomedet, who is endlessly good to me, and my roommate, who thinks I'm a deve. *wink* Also, Ensign Ale was created by lindmere.
Disclaimer: None of these characters or their settings belong to me.


i

The planetary nebula NGC 6543, their next destination, is a beautiful difficulty. Its central white dwarf emits a tachyon flow which interferes with long-range sensors, so Ensign Chekov must build accomodations for uncertainty into his calculations, making it even more imperative to give the Enterprise a wide margin from the nebula's outer reaches.

Chekov determines a position approximately 1.25 parsecs from the near side of the nebula, at least by his best estimate of its location. He triple-checks his calculations before sending them to Lieutenant Sulu. Then he settles back in his seat, holding his face steady, and lets himself feel his pulse accelerate. He longs to glance at Hikaru, to allow his grin to shine, but he needs to not be distracting or distracted despite his excitement. Ever since the first time a dim point of light in the sky unfurled into a stippled gas cloud through his telescope, Pavel Andreievich has always wanted to see a nebula. This particular one is a star's death rather than its birth, but that makes it no less thrilling a destination.


ii

Gaila finds Chief Engineer Scott head-down in the second shield modulator, and she should announce her presence but it's nice to watch him work, to listen to his rolling mutter as his shoulders shift with the movements of his hands. So she gives herself a count of five before she clears her throat. "Mr. Scott?"

"Go on, lass," he says without even raising his head, pulling one hand free to wave her onwards. She salutes his back with a grin she's sure he can feel and runs up to the aft observation deck. When Mr. Scott's done with modifications, the Enterprise will turn forward in preparation for the observational fly-through, but right now aft is the best location to observe the nebula.

What a sight it is, overflowing the viewport, filling one whole side of their local sky. Gaila presses her hands to the cool clear transluminum, gazing out at concentric rings and swirls of multicolored light centered on a little white star. From here the nebula's structure shows interlocked spheres and shells of warm pink and sea blue, all edged with a glowing green not dissimilar from Gaila's own skin tone, which makes her stretch her arms out and smile as she examines the light streaming over her hands.


iii

The rosy hydrogen glow of the nebula disguises the havoc it's already causing on their sensors, and their shields are going to be useless once they hit the first dense shell of gas. Lieutenant Sulu pries as much information as possible out of the computer, while he and Chekov refine their plotted course through the nebula. He notes the knots of denser gas and the buffeting shock fronts where each concentric shell meets the next, considers murky spots where hostile spacecraft could hide in ambush, does his best to determine which dark specks near the star are just instrumental artifacts and which might be planetary remnants or other cosmic shrapnel Enterprise needs to avoid.

"All right, Mr. Sulu," says Kirk from his chair. "Let's get underway."

"Aye, Captain." He sits up, taking a deeper breath, and looks ahead. This will be an interesting flight, but not an easy one, and Hikaru is quietly proud of himself that Kirk has assigned him an extra-half shift per day for the next eight. For all her grumbling over last night's dinner, he knows McKenna's as thrilled as he is to be the other pilot judged experienced enough to handle this.

After all, who joins Starfleet to do what's easy?


iv

There are two members of the Bridge Crew who aren't staring up at the bright wash of pink and bluish light filling the viewscreen. Commander Spock's fingers flicker over his console as he examines the stream of information, performing a first sorting of distorted measurements and equipment artifacts from actual data, and Lieutenant Uhura sits motionless with her fingertips pressed to her earbuds, listening intently to the hollow, high-pitched thrum of the central star.

One reason for Uhura's task is to assist Commander Spock and the Astronomy department, especially Ensign Ale, who's writing an asteroseismology paper. The stellar vibrational data seem to be uncorrupted by the tachyon and electromagnetic interference, but examining the stream as sound is a good way to check its reliability. However, beyond that, Nyota simply likes listening to the stars singing as they shine, each one as individual as a sentient voice. This one hums on in almost grandmotherly fashion, its tones crystalline and pure and ancient as its ashy white light, and as she listens to it she smiles.


v

Dr. McCoy has to bite his tongue sometimes. He certainly does when their hare-brained young Captain informs him that the Enterprise will be heading through this nebula, shields stripped and sensors haywire, so could the CMO please be prepared for accidents, malfunctions, and possible disaster or even attack? McCoy doesn't suggest that if flying through the thing's so dangerous, perhaps they could take the ship around it and improve everyone's chances for a nice few days. He doesn't say a word, and Captain Kirk just regards him for a quiet moment, then smiles in that captainly way and heads off to unsettle another department.

After their shifts, when Jim comes to find him and asks after his rumpled-up expression, Leonard gets through about a sentence and a half of reasonable concern before Jim shushes him and says, a honest goddamn twinkle in his eye, "Go to the forward Observation Deck at, say, 2100, Bones. Just go up there." He smacks Leonard's shoulder and wanders off again, and Leonard mutters under his breath.

But he goes, and he looks into the nebula the Enterprise is immersed in. It's like being buried in a rose, layers of pink and bluish-white suggestive of petals; he intends never to admit it, least of all to Jim, but the damn thing is incredibly beautiful.


vi

The pass through NGC 6543 has proceeded without incident, the ratio of useful data to lossage is more than satisfactory, and Commander Spock estimates three new astrophysics papers will result from this exploratory mission. In his Ready Room the Captain says, "I almost can't believe this went off without a hitch," throwing his arms wide, then fixing Spock with an expectant look.

Spock does not answer, save for a lifted eyebrow. He is entirely unsurprised that this mission is apparently headed for a successful close. Despite the dangers they regularly encounter and their general tendency to vivacity and quick decisions, especially under the command of this particularly high-spirited captain, the Enterprise crew are not only as fine a group of Starfleet personnel as Spock has worked with but indeed as admirable as he might have, to use Human phrasing, hoped for. The Federation's store of knowledge has been enriched by a better understanding of this specific nebula, and generally of the end-life dynamics of low mass stars. Spock is pleased by this, but he is not surprised.

"It hasn't been a bad week at all, don't you think?" Kirk prompts with satisfied ebullience, and with this Spock agrees unconditionally, inclining his head in reply.

vii

Folding his arms, Jim gives the Cat's Eye one last look. It's an old Terran name for NGC 6543, from the days when all observations were conducted through the thick, shifting blanket of atmosphere, when all the telescopes were small and emptied their magnifications directly into human eyes. Still, if he looks just right, if he flattens out the image in his mind, he can see the resemblance.

If he doesn't, though, what he sees is a rounded, tinted, magnificently intricate array of glowing gas, the last display of a dying star. Even Bones had to admit, with a grumpy grunt and shining eyes, that it's beautiful.

All this splendor, and they didn't even have to fight anyone for once. Jim fills his eyes for one more moment, then sits back down at his desk, ready for their next orders, the Enterprise's next destination.

Comments

[graceandfire.livejournal.com]

I love this quiet look at them when there's no enemy to fight, when they're exploring which is so much a part of what they love and are about.

And lines like these are just beautiful to read:

But he goes, and he looks into the nebula the Enterprise is immersed in. It's like being buried in a rose, layers of pink and bluish-white suggestive of petals; he intends never to admit it, least of all to Jim, but the damn thing is incredibly beautiful.

[rubynye.livejournal.com]

Eee, thank you. I wanted to write a story where they have a peaceful, happy week of exploration. The challenge, of course, was how to make that interesting. :D

And oh, Bones. I had such fun letting the reader know he failed at that while not-admitting-it-to-Jim thing.