He looked at her. "For what?"

"For not complicating things unnecessarily," she replied.

"You did the work," he replied. "I just listened.”

She nodded and stepped over to the doorframe in order to stop momentarily with her hand on it — similar to how she had stopped at many doors throughout the week thus far — the habitual behavior of someone who always had one more thing.

"The plasma injector timing," she stated, "the new core detected an adjustment point-three degrees late this morning. A ninety-seven percent core efficiency rating should result if we adjust for ninety-five point-eight degrees." "I'll handle it tomorrow," she added, referencing her own task list for tomorrow.

He stared at her for a few seconds, then spoke softly, "Alright." This time, his word carried a warmth in it that enveloped considerably more than plasma injector timing alone, and both parties recognized this.

She stepped out into the hallway beyond the doorframe and closed it behind her, continuing to stand silently for a short while within the dim light of Deck Two’s passageway, and reflected that she had done the correct thing (with respect to honesty), but it had cost her something (which was true) — and these were both simultaneous truths, and she would eventually have to figure out how to accept both as separate realities without morphing either one into what it wasn't.

She made her way to locate Lindsy.

---

The astrometrics alcove glowed softly as always, focused, the rotating star charts above the projector displaying stars’ positions against time-lapse backgrounds. Lindsy sat on the bench instead of lying down on the mat, a PADD clutched tightly in her hand; she raised her head when Mei-Lin passed through the doorway and laid down the PADD without needing to be instructed.

Mei-Lin settled onto the bench next to where Lindsy lay on the mat and studied the star charts for a short interval.

“I talked to Zedd,” Mei-Lin said.

Lindsy waited.

“I told him I wanted to keep our interactions strictly professional.” She glanced down at her hands. “I told him I couldn’t be both things at once right now and that my professional role would have to take precedence.”

Lindsy fell silent for a short period.

“How did he react?” Lindsy inquired.

“Well,” Mei-Lin said. “He’s that type of person.”

Mei-Lin paused briefly.

“It was more difficult than I expected,” Mei-Lin continued.

Which implied, Mei-Lin thought laterally, that it was probably the best decision she made.

Lindsy gave her an expression that was more present than her standard calmness — something watchful, alert — beneath the surface.

"How are you?"

"Fine," Mei-Lin said.

Then, with greater honesty: "I’ll be fine. That is obviously the correct choice and I know it is...but knowing it is the correct choice does not negate the fact that it costs something."

"No," Lindsy said quietly.

Mei-Lin studied Lindsy’s expression for a moment. There was something in Lindsy's expression that Mei-Lin perceived without attempting to analyze it too closely — specifically, a certain quality that Lindsy had experienced as receiving information that landed at a particular location. She pondered what that may represent and filed it away for potential reference at another time — but refrained from pursuing it because it was not hers to pursue.

"I just needed to tell someone," she explained.

"I’m glad you told me," Lindsy replied.

Both women sat in silence for a little while longer after Mei-Lin finished speaking — amidst the softly turning star charts and the constant hum of the ship surrounding them — neither woman had spoken much during this time, and neither woman seemed to require doing so.

When Mei-Lin finally got up to leave for her quarters she felt less burdened than she had when knocking on Zedd’s door — which was possibly what honest expressions did when you finally verbalized them aloud.

After Mei-Lin left Lindsy sat in the alcove for a long time watching the star charts turn overhead and considered several items....