The Odds of Spontaneous Combustion

Posted on Sat Aug 2nd, 2025 @ 3:31am by Ensign Tenzi Sh'reyva & Chief Petty Officer Vashti Rao & Petty Officer 2nd Class Zal Rixi
Edited on on Sat Sep 6th, 2025 @ 6:35pm

1,598 words; about a 8 minute read

Mission: The Menagerie II
Location: Crew Quarters, Deck 19
Timeline: MD007, 2015 Hours

The room smelled faintly of flux residue and cinnamon. One came from Rixi's boots drying under the climate vent, the other from the remains of a ration bar she'd half-incinerated that morning. The sofa and loveseat were stacked high with toolkits, old socks, and a Bolian plush doll whose left eye had been hot-glued back on. Somehow it all worked. Lived-in, like a broken-in pair of engineering coveralls.

A poster leaning against the wall near Rixi's bedroom read: Maintenance is sexy if you don't ask questions. Someone had drawn a mustache on the model.

Rixi sat cross-legged on the floor, a bottle of Andorian ale sweating on the carpet beside her. She'd built a pyramid out of isolinear chips and was carefully balancing a fifth one on the top, tongue sticking slightly out of the corner of her mouth like it was a sporting event. Her hair was braided up, barely, and she'd shed her uniform jacket hours ago. A streak of carbon ran from temple to jaw like an engineer's badge of pride.

"Did you hear," she said without looking up, "that Smitty from diagnostics has now broken two gravity boots and one--count it--one lieutenant?"

"Not confirmed," Vashti replied from the loveseat. She had a data PADD in one hand and a betting pool ledger open on her lap. "Until I see a medical report, it's circumstantial slander."

Tenzi, sprawled across the sofa like a queen in exile, let out a low, amused groan. "He broke that lieutenant's pride. That counts."

"You say that like it wasn't well-deserved," Rixi said, setting the chip atop the pyramid. It held. She beamed. "He told me once that Bajorans can't taste subtlety. I offered him my boot for dessert."

"Which one?" Vashti asked without looking up.

"The one currently fermenting under the vent."

There was a long pause before Tenzi started laughing, a full-body event that made the frame of the sofa creak. She thumped her heel against the armrest, scattering two of Vashti's carefully arranged PADDs.

"Oh, perfect," Vashti muttered. "I was only organizing those by alphabetical threat level."

"You can alphabetize threats?"

"Tenzi's at the top in every language," Vashti deadpanned.

Tenzi raised her empty cip in salute. "Guilty."

Someone's combadge chirped--two short notes. Rixi glanced toward it and didn't move. The pyramid started to list and she caught the top chip before it could fall.

"You're not on-shift for another six hours," Vashti said, still not glancing up.

"Exactly," Rixi replied, setting the chip aside and snatching the bottle. "I'm honouring the sacred 'Rule of Not Before My Time'."

"Does that rule apply to hygiene?" Vashti asked, eyeing the boots near the vent with something approaching horror.

Rixi took a long drink and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Those boots have seen things. You show them respect."

"She thinks they're haunted," Tenzi chimed in.

"I know they're haunted," Rixi said solemnly. "One of them whispered to me during an EPS overload last week."

"It said, 'Stop stepping in coolant,'" Vashti interjected.

"It said, 'You are the chosen one. Burn everything.'"

Tenzi coughed and said, "Reasonable."

"Burning everything is already her maintenance strategy," Vashti said, sliding a new PADD into her lap. "We should have her reassigned to Tactical."

There was another pause, warm this time. Companionable. The kind of quiet that grows thick between people who have shared long hours and cramped spaces, who know the shape of each other's tempers and how to fold them like bed linens.

Tenzi eventually rolled onto her stomach and hung her head over the armrest, her antennae swaying lazily. "Hey Vee, what're the odds Garo finally notices you've been wathcing him bench press every other morning?"

Without lifting her eyes, Vashti replied, "Thirty-eight to one, and dropping. Quietly."

Rixi made a noise somewhere between a snort and a giggle. "I knew it. You have a Garo line item!"

"I have all the line items," Vashti said. "Including one for how long it takes you to blow out the plasma manifolds again."

"First of all<" Rixi said, raising a finger, "that was sabotage. Second of all, you're going to regret mocking my thermal instincts when I single-handedly save the Astrea from death by space ice-cream."

Tenzi blinked. "That's not a thing."

"It is if you believe," Rixi intoned, eyes wide.

Vashti rolled her eyes. "Add a new item to the board: 'Time until Rixi spontaneously combusts from sheer delusion.' Odds?"

"Even money," Tenzi said. "But make it fun. I'm putting two credits on 'during karaoke night.'"

Rixi leaned back on her hands, the pyramid forgotten. "You know what, that's fair."

Then she sighed--a long, theatrical exhale--and let her head tip back against the base of the couch. Her fingers tapped out a slow rhythm on floor.

"You ever think we're all just one broken conduit away from dying with stupid last words?" she asked.

Tenzi looked over. "That was sudden."

Rixi shrugged. "I mean, think about it. What if my final transmission is me yelling 'this is supposed to smell like ozone' while a panel explodes in my face?"

Tenzi grinned. "At least it would be on-brand."

"Mine would be, 'Don't touch that,'" Vashti muttered.

Tenzi said, "Mine would probably be something profound, like 'Oh, shit.'"

There was a collective pause. Then laughter.

The merriment ebbed slowly, like the tide pulling back from a white-sand shore.

Then Rixi said, softer this time, "We should make a list. Worst possible last words. Lamest way to go. Go out screaming something truly dumb, like..."

She paused, thinking. Then in a mock-heroic voice:

"'Captain, I have become one with the Jefferies tube.'"

Tenzi raised her hand solemnly. "'Tell my wife... she still owes me thirty credits.'"

Vashti, without missing a beat. "'This safety harness is a scam.'"

They were off again, cackling. Rixi slumped to one elbow and reached for a data PADD, dragging it toward her like a relic from a forgotten civilization.

"No, seriously, we're making a list," she said. "Future generations must know. We'll call it: The Dumb Ways to Die Compendium, Volume One."

"Volume One implies optimism," Vashti murmured. "I approve."

Rixi tapped in the first entry.

"'Is that smoke or just a heat distortion?'"

"'I bypassed the bypass,'" Tenzi added, face buried in the cushions.

"'This conduit's definitely not live.'" Vashti said grimly, and for a second, none of them laughed.

Rixi glanced up at that, but Vashti's expression was unreadable. Just a flick of the eyes and then back to her ledger. The moment passed, but not completely.

Tenzi rolled onto her side, antennae flicking once. "Y'know, maybe we should make a second list too. Things worth staying alive for."

Rixi arched a brow. "That got sentimental fast."

"Shut up," Tenzi said. "I'm serious. I'll start. Orbital sunrise from the maintenance gantry on Deck Twelve. Looks like a one of those old Earth lamps if you squint."

Vashti's expression clouded. "Which old Earth lamps?"

"You know, the ones that look like colourful floating blobs."

"Oh," Vashti replied. "Do you mean lava lamps?"

Tenzi shrugged. "Whatever you weirdos call them."

"Replicated cocoa with extra nutmeg," Rixi said, oblivious to the direction the conversation had turned.

There was a pause as Tenzi considered, eyes drifting toward the corner where the boots steamed gently under the vent.

"Waking up before alpha shift and realizing you still have two hours to sleep," she said. "And the bed's warm, and the bulkhead isn't making that annoying clicking noise."

Rixi nodded, satisfied. "Good one. That's going in Volume Two."

They went quiet again after that--not an awkward silence, just the peacefulness of gravity returning after too much laughter. Vashti adjusted her position, one leg tucked under the other, her eyes moving steadily across a new data table.

Rixi yawned and let herself sprawl out beside the pyramid wreckage, arms behind her head, the bottle of ale half-empty by her hip.

Tenzi's voice came again, gentler now. "Hey. You really think the boots are haunted?"

Rixi smirked, eyes only half-lidded. "Only by my past mistakes."

"I think they're possessed by the ghost of poor decisions," Vashti said dryly. "They smell like vengeance."

"They smell like hard work," Rixi replied, tapping her temple. "And science."

There was a beat, then Tenzi said, "They smell like despair and wet dog."

"I'm ignoring you both," Rixi said. "When the boots start talking again, you're not getting any prophecy."

"You're drunk."

"And wise beyond my parsecs."

Someone's PADD buzzed, then went silent. No one moved to check it.

They didn't need to.

For now, this was all they needed: bad jokes, warm air, flickering lights, and the slow, steady certainty that someone would always catch the top chip before it fell.

---

Petty Officer 2nd Class Zal Rixi
Engineering Technician
USS Astrea


Chief Petty Officer Vashti Rao
Engineering Technician
USS Astrea


Ensign Tenzi Sh'reyva
Engineering Technician
USS Astrea

 

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