Finally, the crystal flickered.
But somewhere, in the depths of that crystal relay, a sleepy British voice murmured to itself: “Fascinating. The Burnham Alpha retreats, but the pack’s secrets remain… for next time. Same Nebula Time, Same Nebula Channel.”
Burnham’s jaw tightened. Then, slowly, she smiled. It was the smile of someone who had stared down the Klingon Empire and the Mirror Universe. “Alright. If we’re on their channel… we change the narrative.”
The dramatic music stuttered. The narrator’s voice cracked. “Uh… well, folks. It seems… these apex predators are… napping? We’re getting a lot of… paperwork. Let’s check in on the Gorn again—” star trek discovery channel
Burnham stood up. “Options?”
Tilly, who had just walked onto the bridge, turned beet red. “I didn’t consent to that!”
Burnham pinched the bridge of her nose. “Saru, tell me again. Slowly.” Finally, the crystal flickered
Burnham exhaled. “Saru, plot a course out of this sector. Warp nine.”
On the screen, a massive, crystalline structure drifted in the nebula. It was beautiful—bioluminescent veins pulsing with a slow, rhythmic light. But that wasn’t what had silenced the bridge.
She tapped her badge. “All hands, this is the Captain. I need every crew member to do something so profoundly, overwhelmingly boring that the algorithm loses interest. Recite Starfleet regulations. Organize your quarters by color. Do your taxes. Bore this crystal into submission.” Same Nebula Time, Same Nebula Channel
As the ship leapt to safety, Tilly whispered, “Captain… was that story about you and Captain Georgiou true?”
Tilly swallowed and said nothing.