“There is an open case on P21001 about a long-dead god still speaking.” Lieutenant Elsa Drayton sat at her desk in the Investigations office on the USS Cushing. She’d turned thirty this year. She absentmindedly checked the tight bun at the back of her head. Her black hair always contrasted with her alabaster skin. She’d been self-conscious as a child, and her confidence sometimes wavered as an adult. Across from her was the nonplussed face of Lieutenant Solas at his desk as he worked through the case files. They had been assigned to the USS Cushing just before her long journey to the rimward had begun. He was a Vulcan, and his assignment to her had been intentional.

Solas replied, “That file has remained open because you have kept it open, Lieutenant Drayton. It is most likely a long-abandoned and derelict communication array that has become buried. There are plenty of plausible explanations for that scenario. You continue to insist on rejecting them in favor of your illogical and ill-researched theories.” His eyes remained focused on the screen of his console. When she had met him for the first time, she had hoped the severe look on his face and the monotone voice he spoke with would modulate with time. A month had passed, and Solas had remained ever monotone. The severe look on his face had gotten worse in her mind.

Elsa grumbled, “We may believe we know the logic and science of everything, Lieutenant Solas. There’s been plenty to prove us wrong.” She pointed to another open file, “P21343 has been reported to have a zombie outbreak.” Her favorite subject and study.

“Do not call them that,” Solas rebuked her claim. “That is not what is stated in the report.  Once again, there are likely and logical scenarios that could explain such a situation. I have offered several to you in the last few weeks. Yet, you insist we must travel to these places to investigate the illogical and refutable claims.” She had learned that Solas was driven single-mindedly by serious scientific studies. He was interested in the things that would further the understanding of the universe and beyond. He was not interested in her slightly mad theories or second-guessing. If Vulcans could live in a state of exasperation, Solas would fit the bill.

She tore her focus from her console, “Look. We were both assigned to this gig because we know our stuff. You’ve got the Vulcan mind combined with all your fancy Vulcan science and medical degrees. I’ve got years of Starfleet science and medical training along with my PhD.”

Solas finalized his selections and turned his placid eyes on her, “You neglected to mention your overuse of your lens of skepticism.” He stood, shaking out the hours of sitting. “I believe it is part of why you were assigned to me and this department.”

She winced at the remark. Vulcans were precise, logical, and stuck close to the factual truth. Sometimes, the truth hurt. She said, “I’m no fool, Lieutenant Solas. This wouldn’t have been my first choice, or second choice. Third choice, maybe.” She pushed out from her chair and stretched her hands to the ceiling, groaning as the atrophied muscles shouted at her. “But I’m here now and need to do the work.”

Solas regarded her with both eyebrows raised, “You do not seem prepared to understand the result Starfleet wishes to occur with your assignment.”

Elsa finished her stretches. She looked around the large office. They had an entire team under them to pursue the cases. “I told you – I’m no fool. I know what they want out of this. I’ll follow their rules and procedures, but I won’t stop questioning the status quo or asking the harder questions. The rimward is full of the unknown. You’ll see my side of things eventually.”

He regarded her with what she guessed was the Vulcan version of contempt. “Logic would suggest otherwise, Lieutenant Elsa.”

She smiled widely as she headed out of the office, “Then let’s get out there and find out! We can at least start with the planet below.” Solas could not argue with her logic and followed behind her, his eyebrows raised.