The problem with the charge in the glass is getting to the point that I dream about it, think about it while eating, showering... Basically all the time. I glare down at the piece in front of me, suppressing the urge to just pick it up and throw it against the wall. All that will do is bring us down one piece of glass and make a mess I'll have to clean up. Damn it.

I scrub at my face. Okay, maybe it's time to take a step back for a few minutes. So I literally do just that. Take a long step back.

Just in time for Melchior to walk in with a bin full of more of the glass. He nods at me as he walks over to set down his burden.

"Thank you, Melchior," Errol says, straightening on his stool, rolling his own shoulders. I know he's hitting the same wall I am, but he seems to be taking it a whole lot better. Probably I should be taking cues from him.

"The last meteor shower left quite a bit for us to collect," Melchior comments, letting go of the bin. "I predict there will be continuous deliveries for quite some time."

"That's good, considering we're no closer to a solution," I say, even as I feel that spine-tingling awareness of Melchior that never seems to lessen or go away.

He nods, his face sympathetic.

"Yes. But I know if anyone can find the solution, it is you, Addison."

I feel my face warm at the unexpected compliment.

"I'm trying," I murmur, ducking my head, pretending to focus on the piece of machinery in front of me. Ugh, why do I become this shy, stumbling girl in front of him? I'm usually at my most confident in the lab. I'm around technology here, safely ensconced in the world where I'm most comfortable, most confident in my knowledge. But every time Melchior shows up, I feel like my confidence level immediately regresses. It's really annoying.

I frown, stepping forward to fake-tinker with the parts in front of me.

Hmm.

Melchior does seem to be coming to the lab more and more often. In fact...lately he's been making the vast majority of the deliveries from the Tribe himself. Is it possible...he's doing so on purpose?

I glance over at him, only to catch him looking at me. He immediately looks away.

Huh.

Maybe...maybe he's interested in me too? I look back down, feeling a wave of heat flow through me just at the thought. I'm probably reading too much into it. Maybe he just likes the city. Or maybe he's the fastest or something and keeps being chosen for that reason, I don't know.

"Is there anything new you have tried since last we spoke?"

I jump a little at Melchior's voice, unexpectedly close now. My body is so damn aware of him, an electrical current shoots right through me.

"Uh, well..."

I go off on my spiel, the familiar topic steadying me somewhat—thankfully. He makes some intelligent commentary, which is what I've come to expect from him now. The sound of his voice is both stimulating and calming at the same time. It has the kind of deep timbre that makes me feel safe. Stupid, but what about my reaction to the guy isn't?

We're still in the middle of our conversation, Melchior so close now that I can smell the distinctive scent coming off him, when Bashir walks in. I only glance at him, my focus almost fully on Melchior. He smells like the outdoors, but not in a bad way. The Zmaj don't sweat—I giant advantage, if you ask me. I feel like a soggy mess after I'm out in the desert for longer than five minutes.

"Have you made any progress?" Bashir asks, drawing my attention back to him despite myself.

"Nothing of note as of yet,” Errol answers for the both of us. “But we are going to keep studying the matter."

Bashir nods, glancing at all the machinery we've already picked apart, pieces lying here and there. I suppose if you just walk in, it could look like a graveyard, somewhere tech might go to die, but it's actually quite organized, a method to what might look like madness to the untrained eye.

"One of the children had a dream last night," he murmurs, crossing his arms, his face thoughtful. "I think it is...interesting."

"Interesting?" Errol asks, putting down his tools to give Bashir his attention. "How so?"

Bashir frowns, looking over at Melchior and me as well. He has all of our attention by this point.

"It was a dream about Tajss," he explains. "Almost like it was...trying to communicate."

I share a glance with Melchior. Weird.

"What do you mean?" I ask carefully. "Like the planet itself was trying to speak to him?" I ask, half smiling at the thought already.

But Bashir doesn't crack a smile. In fact, he looks really serious when he shakes his head.

"Yes, exactly," he confirms with a straight face. "It is trying to tell us something. I believe...I believe it is attempting to prepare us, giving us what protection it can so we can fortify our defenses, prepare for the inevitable attack."

"You mean the asteroid showers," Errol says slowly. "You believe Tajss is responsible?"

"Yes. I do not think it is a coincidence that the showers started when they did. That they have appeared multiple times, right when we needed them to help repel an attack from those alien invaders. That the glass itself is a necessary component we need in order to resurrect our technology, including the shields that will hopefully help protect the Tribe and the mining settlement as well." He shakes his head. "My own experiences with Tajss lead me to believe it is sentient in its own right."

Errol does not appear to dismiss the thought immediately.

"That is a bold claim," he says slowly, tilting his head in consideration.

"Are you proposing we engage in some form of...planetary worship?" Melchior interjects. His tone and his skeptical expression speak for itself. "That is a dangerous road to embark upon. Religion is often a dividing force."

Bashir meets Melchior's eyes, not at all irritated at the push back, but Melchior's skepticism isn't shaking what he believes.

"I do not think anyone should do anything they do not feel comfortable doing," he states after a brief pause. "And I also do not see a reason that it is necessary we all think alike. I do not think that is healthy for our society. I am simply stating what I myself think is happening. You can agree. Or not."

With that closing salvo, he nods at all of us and leaves the lab, his information delivered.

I don't know how to feel here. I might not be quite as open as Errol on the subject...but I don't feel quite as skeptical as Melchior does either. I guess I'm more intrigued at the idea than anything. I've been agnostic for most of my life, ever since my father left us on Christmas day while we were still aboard the ship. I remember that dark time. A child simply does not have the capacity to process why a parent, a person that is supposed to love and care for you, would be so selfish as to leave when you most need him.

I felt lost and alone. Unwanted.

I didn't even know what my purpose was, any nascent belief I had in a higher power thoroughly shaken.

If a higher power existed, why would it let my father be taken away from me? It didn't make much sense, not to the child. And not to the adult now, really.

Luckily, I found some solace through another avenue. A teacher on the ship who was instrumental in teaching me about science, giving me a logical framework from which I could create a new inner sanctuary for myself. One I could count on. A place where facts reigned supreme and my emotions were safe, where they couldn't be sideswiped like they had been. Where the parameters for trouble were clear, where I could see it coming. Where I could solve a problem, or at least explain it using logic.

I appreciated that. Logic was something my household sorely lacked at the time. My mother was weak. I can see it clearly now that I'm an adult. She found the idea of being a single mother incredibly embarrassing, shameful even. Because of that tightly held belief, she did her best to hold onto the appearance of being happily married for much, much longer than she should have after my father left us. Until even she could no longer pretend that he would come back.

She never did take well to being a single parent. Her solution to the issue was often avoidance, in varying forms. One of her favorites was sleeping pills. She found solace in the pill bottle that she could not find in her real life, or in me, even though I so desperately needed her. That addiction took her from me far too often, forcing me to grow up way before my time. I became the housemaid and the cook whenever she went on one of her chemical trips. I remember coming home from school, my stomach in a knot as I wondered if I would find her passed out on the couch again, unresponsive to my attempts to wake her.

I never felt more alone than when she was there physically but gone in every way that mattered.

Still, as harsh as my childhood was, it also helped me grow strong quickly. I was mature and mostly independent at a young age. Those were traits that served me well in my professional life, if not my personal one.

But that's neither here nor there. The bottom line I guess is that I've been agnostic ever since. I don't know if there is a higher power, or powers for that matter.

Is it possible that Tajss is one? Considering the facts Bashir laid out so clearly...I'm not sure if he's that far off. That's not even considering the way he seems able to commune with the planet, or the dream he's saying one of the dragonlings had.

The meteor showers themselves make me think. And I've often wondered at Bashir's often uncanny intuition... What if telepathic communication with the planet is possible, like he asserts it is? Maybe there's a way to measure it, measure the planetary frequencies.

Maeve definitely experienced a telepathic link with Padraig after they were both marked with the asteroid glass...maybe there's something there... The thought works at the back of my mind as I continue to work in the lab for a bit longer.

And is the foremost thought there as I sit by myself during my lunch break. I wonder how I would go about exactly...

My train of thought derails as a familiar tingling sensation suffuses my body. Melchior. As if the thought of him summons him, he slides into the seat next to me.

"Hello, Addison," he murmurs, smiling at me as he sets his own food down in front of him.

"Hello," I return, smiling back as I force myself to take another bite of my food.

We're not in the lab now, nothing else to do with my hands but eat. I feel almost more naked, more vulnerable here than surrounded by the familiarity of the lab, my home away from home.

"What do you think about Bashir's theories?" he asks casually as he digs into his own food. “Do you believe there is any merit to them?”

I know he doesn't want to entertain them at all. But I'm not going to lie about what I think, no matter how much I like him, how much I'm attracted to him. Intellectual dishonesty is just not in my makeup. So I shrug.

"Anything is possible, right? Years and years ago, humankind thought our planet, Earth, was flat." I smile when Melchior chuckles at the thought. "Silly, I know. It didn't last. We studied the stars and eventually realized we could sail all the way around it. And then we went into space and actually saw that it was indeed spherical." I gesture around us. "We kept learning, kept adjusting what we thought we knew. And now here we are on Tajss. Light years away from what we used to believe."

Melchior nods thoughtfully. I can see he's considering his next words carefully. He meets my eyes. His are crystal clear, the green deep. Thoughtful. And completely mesmerizing.

"What do you believe in, Addison?" he asks softly, the words oddly intimate while people laugh and joke around us, eating their own lunch.

Too intimate. And they're touching on a somewhat sensitive subject for me.

I break eye contact, looking down at my food.

"I believe whatever science can prove,” I return briskly. “Whatever I can see, touch, hear, measure. That's what I believe in."

A pause as I take another bite, chewing automatically.

"I respect that, " Melchior finally murmurs. "Requiring evidence keeps potentially dangerous illusions at bay."

I nod, considering the clear bias in those words.

Perhaps.