PoV Mira

  T'lish smoothly applied a device she removed from the top drawer to her cheek; I watched, fascinated, as the mark healed before my eyes. I felt sad that, it seemed like a practice routine.

  I may not have understood half of the scientific details flying around with this mission, but I knew people. Or at least I liked to think I did. And seeing T’lish standing quietly near her old workstation, sadness heavy in her slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, was genuinely heartbreaking.

  Without really thinking it through, I stepped closer to her. “Hey, T’lish?” I offered gently, smiling warmly to catch her attention. “Can you give us a tour?”

  She blinked slowly, tilting her head in confusion, as if she didn’t understand the question. Then, just as I thought I’d misread the situation, a spark of cautious interest appeared in her eyes. It was small, but unmistakably hopeful.

  “Yes,” she replied softly. “I would be happy to.”

  The lab was modest, tidy, and clearly untouched since she’d left it. She guided us around the small space, her movements growing more confident with each familiar workstation. There was a large terminal that accessed the ship’s central data stores, an advanced-looking prototype printer tucked neatly in one corner, and a holographic modeller surrounded by glowing projections of alien organisms. With every step she took, her voice grew lighter, and stronger. Her quiet enthusiasm was contagious It was impossible to miss that T’lish loved science.

  Watching her grow animated, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. Somehow, our strange little family on Lazarus had become a haven for the broken and overlooked, and honestly, I loved it. Every day, I got to experience new things, learn from people completely unlike anyone I’d known back on New Horizon. And now, here I was—standing aboard an alien research ship, disguised as a war prisoner, learning about holographic modelling tools from a reptilian scientist. Life was weird, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

  Of course, Lynn quickly brought us back to reality. Clearing her throat, she spoke quietly but firmly. “Fascinating, but let’s remember why we’re here, please?”

  T’lish paused, a slight blush darkening the grey of her scales. She straightened, turning back to Lynn with an apologetic nod. “Of course. You’re correct.”

  She hesitated, her eyes wondering thoughtfully to the terminal and the modelling device. “I have some ideas about the slipstream issue but I need my tools and the data stored here to test my theories. It might take some time.”

  “That’s fine,” Kel reassured her gently, offering an encouraging smile. “Take all the time you need.”

  T’lish shifted uneasily, glancing downward. “I must warn you, though, I am only average in biology. It may not—”

  “Oh, I don’t believe that for a second,” I interrupted softly, giving her another reassuring smile.

  She hesitated briefly, then seemed to relax, accepting my encouragement quietly as she returned her attention to the holographic workstation. The terminal cast a soft blue glow across her grey scales, highlighting the delicate movements of her claws as she manipulated intricate genetic models hovering midair. It was mesmerizing, really, watching her work.

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  Across the room, Kel, Lynn, and Stewie had pulled out a deck of cards, trying to pass the time with some strange game Lazarus had taught us. Poker, I think he called it. Too many rules, too complicated and besides, I was far more fascinated by T’lish’s quiet murmuring and thoughtful gestures.

  She paused now and again, muttering softly to herself in frustration. Something was evidently troubling her.

  “T’lish,” I said gently, stepping a bit closer, careful not to startle her. “What’s wrong?”

  She exhaled softly, eyes still fixed on the complex diagrams hovering in front of her. “I understand the function of these organs,” she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with irritation at herself. “I have the genome fully mapped. I know every material required. But I do not understand how to assemble them correctly or how they interact with your slipstream drive.”

  I considered that for a moment, watching the delicate twists and spirals of genetic code suspended before us. It reminded me oddly of something more familiar.

  “You know,” I said thoughtfully, leaning a little closer, “it sounds a lot like cooking.”

  She blinked, tilting her head curiously. “Cooking?”

  I nodded earnestly. “When I follow a recipe step by step, without thinking, it usually turns out bland or just edible, but nothing special. The real magic happens when I trust my instincts, when I think about why each ingredient matters, and in what order they should come together.”

  T’lish’s eyes widened slightly, thoughtful recognition flashing behind her eyes. “You’re suggesting that I follow intuition over procedure?”

  “Exactly,” I smiled warmly. “Procedures get you started, but intuition makes it work.”

  She studied my face for a moment, thoughtful and cautious, before nodding slowly and returning her attention to the hologram. This time, however, her movements seemed more fluid, more confident.

  I stepped back slightly, still smiling to myself. Honestly, I had no idea if my cooking analogy held any real scientific value, but I’d learned that with smart people, you didn’t always need to solve the problem. You just had to give them a nudge, a small reset so they could find their own way back on track.

  After a while, T’lish straightened from the console and blinked at the simulation results scrolling across the terminal. “I believe I have a theoretical replacement for the window crystal,” she said, sounding almost surprised at herself. “The simulations are processing now. It will take some time.”

  She hesitated, then looked over at the others. “May I… join the card game?”

  Stewie nearly dropped his cards in horror. “You don’t want to do that,” he warned gravely. “I have already lost two hours of chores. Extra chores.”

  Kel grinned like a predator who’d just spotted fresh prey. “Come on,” he said, gesturing for us to join, “I’ll explain the rules.”

  Which he did, very thoroughly… and very misleadingly.

  T’lish listened intently, nodding as if this human game was just another logical puzzle to crack. I should’ve known better, but I joined in anyway.

  It took me exactly fifteen minutes to realise my mistake.

  “I’m out,” I said, holding up both hands and laughing as I backed away from the table. “I just lost thirty minutes of chore time, and I like not scrubbing plates.” Honestly, there weren’t many chores to be done, the droids did most of it.

  Lynn, already standing nearby with her arms folded, nodded smugly. “Cashed out even. Zero won, zero lost. That’s how you survive this game.”

  Meanwhile, Kel leaned back in his seat with a self-satisfied smile, arms behind his head. “Three hours of free time and counting,” he said casually, nodding toward the growing tally on the terminal behind him.

  T’lish, however, wasn’t taking it well. Her tail twitched, and her eyes narrowed in confusion and frustration.

  “This is illogical,” she muttered, studying Kel with a mix of irritation and fascination. “I know what cards you should have based on your behavior, but your habits do not match the optimal strategy. You are… chaotic.”

  Kel shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Part of the charm.”

  She kept playing, determined to figure him out, it was a mistake and by the time her debt hit three hours of chores, Lynn finally stepped in with a firm hand on her shoulder.

  “That’s enough, T’lish,” she said with a smirk. “You’ve already lost more than Mira and Stewie combined. Some battles aren’t worth the data.”

  T’lish stared at the cards in her hand like they had personally betrayed her. “I will never understand this game.”

  “Welcome to the crew,” I said, laughing. “None of us do either.”

  At that time her simultation result had come back.