"Focus"

[Col. C.E. Harper 0]

March 23, 2397

USS Agincourt, Pax Primus system

 

Focus on the key sequence. The cool, smooth console beneath your fingertips, spotless and gleaming in sharp contrast to the dirt under your fingernails, and the tacky smear of blood on the cuff of your battle uniform. Ship's library. Historical files. Press here, and here, and there.

 

Focus was an artform. Too broad and distractions crept in. Too narrow and you missed things. But it you could master it, you missed no detail. Provided you were given the time to exercise it, of course. Index finger, ring. Thumb. Cross-reference current mission files.

 

Focus could save your life. It could also get you killed. Balance in all things, and the right time for everything. Desire played no part in the equation; it was only a distraction. What you could be doing, where you'd rather be, even where you should be and what you should be doing were not the here-and-now. Deal with them in their own time. Scroll through the file list. Pax Primus Accords. Select.

 

Focus on the text. Bland, passionless words, light on dark. Facts don't care about emotion; banish it. Opalescent halos around each whitened fingertip; the contact membrane distended by too much pressure. Treaty clauses, defense, notification, extradition, jurisdiction.