A Wartime Sleep

[T'Aniz Jozef 0]

She kept repeating to herself that old saying, "You have nothing to fear but fear itself." But this time the 20th Century battlecry left her heart cool.  She wasn't going into battle.  This was just a ship assignment.  The wrong assignment.  That's what was wrong.  She was going to the wrong place.  She sat back in her desk chair.  "Computer, play back the recent record of posting, following the bookmarks I've placed," she ordered again.  She'd view it one more time.  Maybe this time she could get it straight in her head, she thought.

 

"Searching..." the impassive computer voice intoned.  It was a poor substitute for a friendly conversationalist at this point, she felt.  Then the scenes replayed:

 

"First sequence..."  the computer announced.  There was her academy advisor.  On the screen he was smiling as he announced that her first choice for ship assignment had come through.  Why shouldn't it have?  She graduated 6th in her class. Honors in security, her major.  She could have her pick ... so she thought.   On screen, her advisor explained,

    "Know you loved your junior year assignment  of one month on the USS PHOENIX, the ship once commanded by Captain Ben Maxwell before he ... well ....  The ship you've got is also a sleek Nebula Class, with lots of updates you'll enjoy.  And a Captain who's halfVulcan, halfHuman, but he favors his Human side, as you do.  His name is ...

 

"Going to second sequence..." the computer cut in.  The screen shifted to those very orders.  There they were, in front of her.  How could something set in stone be so easily ... pulverized?  Who, who, who had the power and the pull to change orders at this stage in the game?  She read her original orders again:

 

Report to the USS CARLSBERG NCC-36721. SCIENCE VESSEL NEBULA CLASS

 

"Going to third sequence," the computer implacably intoned.  Not even a person, human or otherwise, telling her why.  Explaining it to her.  Apologizing to her.  Consoling her.  And no one to appeal to.  Just this announcement:

 

            NOTICE::CHANGE OF ORDERS::NOTICE

REPORT TO THE  USS REPUBLIC NCC-1371-D   SCIENCE VESSEL GALAXY CLASS

CHANGE EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.  ALL PRIOR ORDERS NULL AND VOID.

 

"Going to fourth sequence.." stated the computer.  It had no idea that the young woman's heart felt broken.  It just flashed on the screen the final instructions:

 

REPORT to the Star Fleet San Francisco Shuttle Port at 0600 hours.  (Failure to report will constitute AWOL status.)  You will receive safe passage to the REPUBLIC

 

"End of Program...Waiting for new instructions," the computer flatly said.  "None.  Computer, end program and shut down," she replied.  That was all there was to it.  Like it or not, her life had changed.  She remembered the early 20th Century saying, "Ours is not to question why, our is but to do or die."  Yes, that helped.  She was, after all, in the military.  THEY could dispose of her as they wished.  And so they did.

 

But it's not the end of the world, she reflected.  She remembered the recent attacks on the Sol system.  That's the stuff that matters.  We've all got to pull together now.  I'm security.  If they want me on a ship of exploration...or war...who am I to naysay them?  I chose the Carlsburg before the attacks.  Everything's changed now.  All of our lives are going to change even more.  Guess I might as well be on the front line.  At least it'll be interesting.  And I'll be useful.

 

That's important, she thought, being useful.

 

She'd been getting ready for bed as she thought these things through.  She sipped the last of her warm milk and pulled the cover over herself.  Just a few hours sleep, then up and to the shuttle port.  Gee, I hope I don't have those dreams again tonight about the attack on the academy.  Need ... my ... sleep .... And with that she drifted into a less than peaceful slumber.  A sleep of dark images and red fire.  A sleep with unclear cries for help in dreams she'd barely rememer.  A sleep with tossing...turning.  A sleep with little rest.  A wartime sleep.