Have you ever thought about music? Humming and bobbing along to a melody you sing in your head, or that rings through the air. The gentle rush of emotions with each note and melody. I have never been a singer, nor have I ever had the desire to write a song, but music is something I will always appreciate. 

Hersia, as she requested I call her in my log, is a scientist that I occasionally find myself working with. Unlike myself, who usually jumps from ship to ship, Hersia has stayed with the same crew and ship for the last several years. Hersia however is very, very private. She rarely talks about anything other than work, which, as a scientist, it's often assumed that her life and her work are close to one. 

Incorrect on so many levels, not the least of which being the professional face Hersia adopts when speaking of her recent discoveries. One may assume she is a hard working and stoic individual, and not realise she is sarcasm  in human form. 

Hersia had, on this particular day, been working on something small and inconsequential. Report logs of her findings that day. Nothing mind shattering or important. As such, in her usually locked and sound proofed cabin, Hersia took to a simple hobby she has been doing as of late. Putting on music was nothing new, she had been doing it for years with no real consequences. 

Verenche, however, was one of the new recruits, replacing one of the electricians who had left the vessel at the last port. Being a new hire, and more used to working on cargo ships rather than the more research tuned vessel on which Hersia had chartered, he had little idea of the unspoken rule. Never disturb Hersia when she is working. 

Simple maintenance checks are routine, and often done in sections, not unlike patrols. It's not a question of waiting for something to go wrong, it's of making sure that it doesn't. Verenche was already aware of this system, having done it a few times before. Never before however had Verenche had to patrol sector 5, where Hersias lab was located.

The patrol started as normal, doing routine checks that anyone else would. When he came across a door that seemed to have worn out its locking mechanism resulting in it being essentially useless, his concerns were warranted. Daily checks should have ensured that this issue was caught before it ceased function entirely. 

When opening the door to further investigate the locking mechanism, the otherwise soundproof lab in which Hersia was currently blasing music loud enough for the entire cosmos to hear was breached. In the three seconds it took for Hersia to realise her door was open and effectively smack the pause button on her computer hard enough to break, Verenche was amazed by the sounds he could hear. 

Being of a more insectoid race, Vereche had an innate interest in music. His people, the Bentras had a set of wasp-reminiscent wings, once used for flying, now small enough that their only real function was noise. Music in much the same way Humans sing. The primary difference between the two species' music is that while humans add other instruments, Bentras generally have such a wide variety of sounds they can make that they didn't find the need to develop it. 

If Hersia had to find a word to describe the expression on the aliens face, it would likely be amazed bewilderment.

Hersia herself had always thought that music made by races similar to the bentras had held its own unique charm, much like how the sound shifts when a different instrument plays the same song. To see someone discovering a whole set of new music instruments and sounds was like watching someone discover their favourite song. 

“Never heard human music?’ Hersia asked, fascinated by the reaction she got from the strange new member of the crew she had only seen a few times. 

“Is that what that was?” Vereche asked, lovestruck and lost in his own fascination like a lovesick teenager after his first kiss.

Hersia chuckled at the reaction, ushering him inside and closing the door behind him. Quickly sitting him on the stool by her desk, Hersia pulled up her list of favourite songs, wanting to amaze him with something he had never heard before.

A simple piano song was the answer, faint pipings of violins in the background and a hauntingly beautiful voice that sang of woes and sorrows. As soon as the first note was tapped on the instrument and the sound echoed, Vereche found himself once again surrounded by a strange new music. 

What is that feeling when you discover something so amazingly wonderful that you simply can't find the words, when you feel your heart and being rise with the melody. You can almost hear your blood pumping and struggling to catch up, as your chest feels lighter and you can only focus on the vibrations in your ears. That moment as the song begins to rise and you are left waiting in anticipation until at last, like a breath, there comes a slow, drawn out pause that leaves you waiting for the moment the music is a blur in your mind and all you can say for sure is that you are swaying with the rhythm.

Imagine hearing your favourite song for the first time again, feeling the breathlessness in your chest once more, and understanding what it means to be fully and completely absorbed in your music. 

Now imagine you had never even heard anything remotely similar before that moment. 

To say that Vereche had never heard music like that before would be a correct statement, but to say he had never before had that feeling of being one with the rhythm would be a lie. His eyes were filled with stars, and his mouth hung agape as the last song came to a slow end.

“Do your people dance?” He asked suddenly, as the music came to a stop. 

Hersia was surprised by the question, thinking on it for a moment before she nodded.

“Yes, although there are a lot of different ways in which people dance. Ballroom dancing, rodeo dancing, ballet, I know there are more than a few different sports that involve it. Do yours?” 

“Very much so. They say that to get the sound just right, you have to feel the wind in your wings. You shared with me your music, may I share mine?’ Vereche asked as he stood up, giving a slight bow.

 Hersia smiled, bowing back and moving to shove an empty table up against a wall, and leave a large open - if slightly dusty in places- space for Vereche to perform. 

“By all means!” She grinned, hanging back and watching with a keen interest. She had always been curious about Bentras music, and how it was traditionally made. While not a historian, or anything focused on different cultures, a fascination with learning is something that plagues all in the field of science and academics. 

Vereche began with a slow tap, tapping his thin feet against the floor as his wings fluttered, creating a low droning that shifted, everytime he moved his feet. His slow, rounding steps quickened, as did the rhythm. It took him less than a minute before he at last seemed to find the moment of acceleration, and within an instant both he and the melody were soaring and spinning, shifting so quickly that Hersia was barely able to catch a glimpse of him, but the song that filled the air was like none she had ever really heard.

Like a thousand small pianos playing in perfect unison at once, no one instrument drowning out the other. There was only one instrument, one sound, but to say it was simple would be a disservice to an entire race. A complex melody of shifting tones and smiling faces met Hersias ears, and much like Vereche before, she was fascinated and enthralled. 

When at least, Vereche came to a stop, both parties were left with much to think about. A longing to hear such forgien music again came over both of them, and in the echoing silence, Hersia spoke first. 

“I don't think I’ve ever heard something quite as lovely as that.” She smiled

“I would say the same of your music.” Vereche nodded. 

“Really? Well then… I’ll tell you what.” Hersia stood from her seat, striding across the room that had been ablaze with movement and song just a moment before. “Work is slow, I can spare a couple minutes between making reports. You ever want to hear something from my personal collection, feel free to knock first.” She grinned, tossing the alien a small disk, a digital music box. “In the meantime, there are about maybe a hundred twenty songs on there? Smaller collection from when I was younger. Give it a listen in your free time. I only got one request.”

“What would you want?”

“Next time you decide to pop in, I wouldn't mind watching another performance.” 

Vereche went quiet for a long moment, before nodding. “Yes, I would enjoy that.”