Cebu or Bust!

Posted on Mon Oct 27th, 2025 @ 1:34am by Captain Samantha Curry & Lieutenant Nathan Cole & Lieutenant T'Po & Lieutenant JG Jaya Patel & Lieutenant JG Tarek Sousa & 2nd Lieutenant Jekebb ch’Bari & Doctor Diwata Saensuk MD

2,933 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Long Night
Location: NX-03 Challenger Landing Bay; Cebu, Philippine Sector
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 0000

[NX-03 Challenger – Launch Bay]
[January 1st, 1850 Hours]

The Scobee waited on the polished deck, its hatch lit and ready. The bay was quieter than usual, most of the cargo and inspection bees having finished their work earlier in the day.

Nathan was already there, of course, leaning near the hatch with too much restless energy to sit. He’d traded his duty uniform for something lighter: the fitted blue NX-03 tank top under an open linen shirt, the fabric a pale seafoam green that paired easily with his white shorts. On the hem of those shorts, a tiny rainbow square, half an inch of color, subtle but deliberate, gave the outfit his own signature touch.

His hair had been combed out of regulation neatness, a little looser, the fringe plopped forward just enough to shadow the faint scar above his brow. It wasn’t something he thought about often, but on nights like this, when the mood was light and easy, he preferred not to let it catch the eye.

The linen hung easy in the still air of the bay, a reminder that Cebu’s humidity wouldn’t care much for heavier fabrics. He looked like a man caught between shipboard formality and shore leave freedom, a little more “ready for the club” than Starfleet regs would usually allow.

He shifted on his feet, one moment glancing at the chronometer, the next at the corridor leading in. Nervous excitement ran circles through him; he wanted people to show, wanted the night to feel worth the push. Every time footsteps echoed, his head came up a little too quickly, a grin already tugging at his lips.

If no one else came, he’d still sing. But if even a few walked through that hatch, it would feel like the start of something for the year, and maybe for Challenger too.

"Your taxi has arrived," said a dark-haired man with a distinct but not overly obvious accent. He was dressed casually in a pair of gray chinos and a tropically inspired short-sleeved shirt that was black with pink flamingos, a gift from a roommate from his first half semester as a cadet.

"I guarantee your safe arrival. Though if you don't tip well enough, your ride might get a little bumpy."

His tone was serious, but he was grinning widely.

Nathan’s grin was halfway formed as Jaya delivered his line, one hand already lifting in mock salute. He opened his mouth, ready to fire back, but a second voice rolled through the cavernous bay.

"Smooth and easy, Mr. Patel." A voice said with an echo from the cavernous launch bay. The voice came with the distinct sound of some kind of footwear. Their owner was a tallish woman, her hair short and dark and simply cut in a boy cut. She wore lipstick, and the eye shadow and lashes made her dark gaze pop. The Captain was on deck and like Cole, she'd chosen something neither uniform nor overly casual, while keeping to a tropical clime. She'd adorned herself in something native from the region- a kantha work kurta with below the elbow sleeves, billowy and comfortable, also modest. Under its double-sided split knee-length dress, she had loose linen trousers that came to mid-calf. She wore something akin to sandals.

"When in Cebu..." She outstretched her arms and did a single turn, "Do like the Cebuanos do."

The grin stalled, crooked on his face. He turned toward the echo, and his eyes landed on Curry. Not in uniform, not in the stiff presence of the ready room, but in a swirl of color and flowing fabric that belonged entirely to the tropics. His jaw ticked loose before he caught himself, a soft oh sitting silent in his throat.

“When in Cebu…” she spun once, and Nathan forgot whatever quip he had prepared for Jaya. He straightened instinctively, though he wasn’t the one being addressed.

T'Po was the next to arrive. She had also forgone her V'Ket uniform. She had also declined to wear traditional Vulcan robes. Instead, she wore a grey t-shirt with matching trousers, light, loose, and coming down to her ankles, along with a pair of sandals. Everything was light and airy. To her, the heat was nothing. Less chilly than usual. The humidity, however...There was rarely such humidity on Vulcan. She clasped her hands lightly behind her back. Dark eyes found the captain first. "Captain," she greeted her, before taking in the other two. "Everyone."

Jaya recognized the voice even before he turned to look at her, though he'd only had one extended discussion with her.

"Smooth and easy, it is, ma'am. Always."

The hatch hissed again. T’Po stepped in, her attire simple and spare in a Vulcan way that somehow looked as deliberate as the Captain’s turn in native garb. Her eyes swept the group, calm and assessing, her greeting precise.

Nathan’s mouth was still open a fraction, his expression betraying that this was not what he had expected when he invited people out for karaoke. He blinked once, then twice, before managing to tug his lips into a lopsided smile that was more nerves than polish.

“Uh… yeah. Everyone,” he echoed a touch too quickly, rubbing the back of his neck as if to ground himself.

T'Po turned to Nathan. "Thank you for organizing this, Lieutenant Cole."

"Am I late?" The smooth, slightly lilting tone of Tarek's voice carried through the space, clearly pitched in such a way as to catch attention. Like the others, he was dressed for the climate, but unlike them this was simply his usual garb. A pair of beige linen pants flowed down from his waist to rest just at the middle of his foot. He wore some sort of loafer, close toed unlike many of the others, and a deep forest green short-sleeved button-down shirt that would have seemed formal had he not let enough buttons undone to show off a spray of dark chest hair. He somehow managed to make the shirt look both flowing and fitted at the same time.

"I never turn down an opportunity for karaoke," he said, turning a brilliant grin on Curry and then on Cole before acknowledging the others present. "Or dancing for that matter," he said and mimicked a half samba step by way of example.

Curry smiled in to one of her cheeks at Tarek. "One last dance before we fly." "It was a hard choice. The movie tonight's not a bad one. And Chef's made Tikkamasala." She breathed in to fill her chest, "But, its hard to pass up Earth. We won't see it again for while."

T'Po turned from trying to understand Cole to trying to understand Sousa as he arrived. "It is a fascinating cultural practice," she said. "I have never experienced it before tonight, although I am somewhat aware of the conventions. I take it you are experienced in the practice, Lieutenant Sousa?"

"We're off duty," he offered with a chuckle. "You can call me Tarek." His mind cycled back to the various karaoke events he had attended over the years. It seemed to be part and parcel with academia. At least it had been amongst his friends at the university. "I've had my share of experience," he confirmed. "but whether I'm any good remains a question."

"Then you may call me T'Po," the Vulcan answered him. She hesitated for a moment and then extended her hand.

Tarek smiled broadly, recognizing the significance of the offer. With warm confidence he took her hand and shook it with a firm, but not too tight, grip. He had been made aware of the dislike Vulcans had for hand to hand touch and so he inclined his head in thanks as he released her. "T'Po then," he said. Her hands, he thought, as the conversation flowed onward, was warmer than he'd expected. Vulcans. He'd shaken hands with a Vulcan. He couldn't help it. His grin widened even further.

For her part, T'Po was trying to show her comfort with human customs. She gave little outward sign, but she was inwardly pleased it had apparently gone well. She made a mental note that she might wish to converse further with the communications officer.

"I've been known to trip the light fantastic Jaya said to no one in particular. "It's a type of coordination exercise, like Tai chi except faster and more fun."

Jekebb arrived dressed not in uniform but in a long knitted garment, the pale fibers woven into an intricate lattice of pattern and texture. It was ornamental, almost ceremonial in its design. It was a rare thing for him to wear, reserved for family gatherings or high holidays back on Andoria. Even as it rested on his shoulders, he felt its weight, both comforting and out of place among the mix human civilian attire.

His steps carried a measured caution, each one betraying the tension in his posture. In the Guard, there was little space for such occasions. Camaraderie was expressed through duty, not leisure. And even then, ranks never mixed, except at formal mess occasions.

He drew a steadying breath, antennae adjusting as though to gauge the temperature of the room. When he reached the group, he inclined his head with the sharp politeness of a parade-ground salute tempered into something more personal. A small gesture of acknowledgment, respect without submission. “Evening,” he said, voice low but steady.

Nathan’s head was still trying to catch up. In his mind he was laughing at himself: he had expected maybe Jaya and one or two others, not the Captain in festival colors, T’Po watching with quiet poise, Sousa looking like he could charm a whole plaza, and even Jekebb wrapped in something that looked ceremonial. Karaoke night had suddenly become much bigger than the little outing he imagined.

Out loud he let a grin slip, nerves tugging but genuine excitement winning out. “Well, this is already better turnout than I dared hope. If karaoke is about making noise, we’re going to be heard all the way back to San Francisco.”

He tilted his chin toward Sousa. “I’ll admit, I love to sing. Not the professional kind, just enough to make people roll their eyes at family parties. Sounds like you might know the feeling.”

His gaze shifted then between Jekebb and T’Po, curiosity bright in his eyes. “What about you two? Have you ever listened to Earth music? Not the orchestral scores or instrumental stuff, I mean singing. Songs people belt out in bars or hum while fixing something. It’s not always pretty, but it’s alive.”

"I studied the lyrical collections of Cecil Sharp, including viewing and listening to any number of recorded performances," T'Po informed him. "I have also heard selections from historical human vocalists such as Paul Robeson, Maria Callas, Madonna Ciccone, and Olivia Rodrigo."

Jekebb shook his head, antennae giving the faintest twitch. “Not really,” he admitted. “My roommate on Earth listened to… some kind of bugs, I believe. Beetles maybe.” He frowned slightly, the word still foreign on his tongue. “I wasn’t even aware that such creatures could speak, much less sing.”

The blue man gave a short shrug, a gesture more Human than Andorian, as though conceding the strangeness of it all. “It was… alright,” he added after a beat, his tone deliberately neutral. For all his effort, he could not quite decide whether he had disliked it or whether it had simply bewildered him.

At the exchange, Samantha chortled gently while she adjusted a shawl like drape she'd produced and placed over her shoulders. "We're famous for our musical arthropods on Earth, Mr. ch'Bari. Crickets... beetles..." She smiled and glanced at Sousa. "Singing lobsters." Her brow rose in a dash of mischief.

Tarek gave the Captain a look and chuckled, shaking his head slightly before humming a tiny bit of melody that referenced the singing lobsters she'd mentioned. "Plenty of musical fauna to consider," he quipped back at the end of the melodic line. "Not just anthropoids."

Saensuk was the next to arrive. Like several of her (new) colleagues, she'd opted for something a little lighter than her usual, ship-board fare. She wore a bright, button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a pair of jeans, and shoes. For the moment, she was also wearing a loose-fitting jacket. Though she knew full-well it would likely be coming off at some point, once they'd made it to the surface, there was no guarantee it she wouldn't need it again later (when it cooled off).

"Doctor," Curry greeted with a nod.

"And," Jaya replied without missing a beat. "we have animals who can sing too. There are the Monkees, the Eagles and the Byrds. All very famous of bands on Earth. The Eagles are my favorite, though."

Nathan couldn’t help it; he let out a soft giggle, the kind that escaped before he could smother it. The Earth-folk were having too much fun turning their own fauna into band names, and the look on Jekebb’s face at hearing Monkees was almost worth the whole night already. He shook his head, still grinning. “Alright, alright, before someone names a band after every species on Earth,” he said, clapping his hands once, “let’s get this show on the road. The Scobee’s not going to fly itself.”

He stepped toward the shuttlepod and tapped the hatch controls, the door sliding open with a familiar hiss. Warm light spilled out across the deck. “Seats for everyone, Captain first,” he said with a touch of mock ceremony, sweeping a hand toward the entrance. “I promise not to sing until we’re planetside.” He shot a playful look toward Jaya and Sousa. “Can’t promise the same for them, though. Everyone aboard, let’s go make some noise.”

"Did someone bring parking money?" Curry asked wryly, casting an amused and sweeping gaze at the gathering. The shuttlepod began to hum and thrum to life, their signal that it was time to board and get underway. Her brow rose, almost Vulcanesque save for the bemused quirk of her mouth at Patel and Sousa. "Last chance to save your ears?"

Jaya moved past the Captain, with a brief nod to her and his fellow passengers and slid into the pilot's seat. "Let's see if I remember the navigation protocols. Oh yes," he replied, "Second star to the right and straight on to morning."

Tarek was not far behind Jaya and, as he passed the Captain, placed a hand over his heart and affected an over the top expression of offense. "You wound me Captain," he said and then, chuckling, found his seat. "My ears are well suited to all types of sounds."

Samantha's eyes widened with the skeptical air of, "Are you sure?" Brow arched, she added while smiling, "Let's see if you still feel that way in the morning, Lieutenant."

T'Po arched a brow at Jaya's announced heading. "I lack your piloting expertise, Mr. Patel, but the second star to the right, from the perspective of the launch bay, is..."

"Whoa," Jaya said, holding up both hands. "Those aren't literal coordinates T'Po, it's a line from one of my favorite books. It's called Peter Pan. I don't remember the exact date, but it was written in the early twentieth century by a man named Barrie. I'll tell you about it sometime if you'd like."

"I would appreciate that," T'Po said.

"Maybe after we finished with our party or maybe when we get back."

Nathan palmed the inner controls and counted heads without making a show of it. Captain. T’Po. Sousa. Jaya. ch’Bari. Doctor Saensuk. Good. He pulled the hatch lever, felt the seals take, and slid into the forward starboard seat behind the pilot’s station. “Bay Control has us lit,” he reported for the cabin, more habit than need as the deck strobes along the launch lane shifted from amber to green. He clipped his harness, gave Jaya a quick two-finger point that said take us out, and braced lightly against the rise of inertia as the Scobee lifted.

He kept his promise. No singing. Still, a rhythm wanted to escape somewhere, so he settled for tapping two fingers softly against his thigh. Out the forward panes, Earth shouldered into view, blue and white and impossibly close. He watched the curve of the Pacific slide, cloud bands peeling away to reveal chains of island lights that winked like a runway sewn through the dark. Lucky indeed. Cebu on their side of the planet. No long arc tonight.

As they hit atmosphere, the hull whispered. City constellations sharpened into patterns he knew from maps, then from trips he had promised himself would not be the last. He leaned a touch toward the viewport, speaking just loud enough for the front row to hear. “That split of lights there is the channel. Mactan on the seaward side, Cebu City inland. Lieutenant, set us down at the waterfront landing pad. I've prearranged clearance.

The helmsman nodded. He was focused to the course in front of him. This was his first approach to this particular port, but he had years of experience flying into similar location. He wasn't expecting trouble, so he allowed himself the luxury of looking at their surroundings as they drew closer.

"I don't think I will ever get tired of this. I'm never going to be so jaded that I take beauty for granted."

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