In many ways, Saru was more formal in his behaviors than Michael, and Philippa often wondered why that was. It was a show of respect for her and her position that might be due to the prey nature of his species, in which she knew there was little she could do to influence him to relax around her. But it was also possible he was hurt, which she suspected was adding an extra layer of prim to his proper.
âNo youâre not, or you wouldnât be if you were a human, and as angry as I think you are. Youâre thinking I had it coming,â she said with a smile. Had he been human, sheâd have reached over and touched his arm, to show comradery and support, but she did not want to startle him. If theyâd been onboard, it would be all right, but not out in the wild where anything could happen. The Kelpian was on high alert.
âBut Saru, it is not a bad thing. It is not because I thought less of you,â she told him as the beach gave way to forest. Thick trees cast heavy shadows, and the ground was covered in dead leaves, needles, and winding vines with yellow egg-shaped bulbs. âMichael is ready to fly on her own. She will not be my first officer for long. It is time for her to get a command of her own. But Starfleet would prefer she be first officer before she gets a ship.â
Philippa stopped for a moment to bend down and untangle a vine from her ankle. Sharp thorns were caught in the fabric of her pants, and she bit her tongue when her thumb was punctured in the process. âOuch.â She stood up carefully and frowned at the small cut.
Saru found it easiest to err on the side of overformality. This was always true, but particularly true when he was afraid, or upset, or angry. He was aware that his species caused people to prejudge him as highly-strung or overly cautious at best--or more often, as a coward. He had learned in academy that using the precision of rules of conduct and proper address encouraged people to take him seriously, to view his concerns as carefully calculated rather than the hysteria of a prey species far from home.
Prior to Burnham's promotion, he had begun to relax a little around Captain Georgiou, and around Michael as well. Although they frequently disagreed, he had once thought that she took him seriously as a fellow officer. Now he was less sure, and he found himself reevalutating his previous conversations with the captain in particular, wondering where he had misinterpreted her words, whether she had been patronizing where he had hoped for respect. "I am not human," Saru said, and it came out more sharp and clipped than he would have liked. He did hold back the other questions. Would you respect me more if I was? Would this be easier if I was?
"I see," Saru said, and considered her words carefully. His tension at the shadows of the trees and the soft crush of needles below his boots blurred with his previous irritation, and he carefully sorted the emotions to stop his anxiety from influencing their conversation. If that was her goal, then he could not be angry: he was not ready to be captain of a starship, he was ready to be the first officer of one and learn how. If she believed Michael was ready now, then it was the logical course of action. The last sticking point, of course, was that Saru would not have considered Michael to be any more prepared than he was. It hurt, then, that Georgiou judged her more capable.
Before he could decide how--or whether--to voice such concerns, he was distracted by Captain Georgiou's encounter with a vine. "Are you hurt?" The yellow bulbs had been more initially concerning than the vines, but the thorns were another matter. With some trepidation, he directed his tricorder at the plant, hoping it would indicate the thorns would cause nothing more disconcerting than a surface injury.
amandla
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
baratheonpilled
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
2087
