"127 Hours"

[Col. C.E. Harper 0]

127 Hours

Harper Log 07.20.05

April 22-27, 2397

Somewhere in Deep Space

 

First contact plus three hours…

 

Shift change. Around her the bridge was a whirl of activity as crew came and went, transferring functions, giving reports, engaging in idle chit-chat. Harper settled in the center chair expecting that this time, Gamma Shift would be a little more interesting.

 

First contact plus nine hours…

 

Shift change. Harper rose from the chair, stretching out the kinks of sitting for the last hour of the watch. No sign of the Pacetrina, on sensors or via comms. Another routine shift.

 

First contact plus seventeen hours…

 

Turning down the covers, Harper reflected that politicians the universe over took their time about things. Surely tomorrow they would hear something. In the meantime, she'd put in a double shift and then some today, and sacking out early sounded pretty good.

 

First contact plus thirty-two hours…

 

Lifting her chin from her hand, Harper took advantage of the young man's pause for breath to interrupt. "It's not that I'm not sympathetic, crewman," she said as gently as she could manage against the visions of tossing him bodily from her office. "It's just that breaking off a relationship isn't sufficient reason to rearrange your duty schedules. You knew you would have to work together when you began the relationship; I expect you both to be professional adults and deal with the problem."

 

"But, sir, this wasn't just any breakup. You see, after that time in the holodeck…"

 

Harper let her head fall back against the chair and sighed as the lovesick crewman began his rambles again.

 

First contact plus forty hours…

 

Gym, phaser range, crew lounge… all too public. Maybe there'd be a slot open in the holodeck reservations. Today was definitely an anti-social day, considering she was supposed to have been off-duty four hours ago and was only just now getting lunch.

 

First contact plus fifty-six hours…

 

One hand wrapped around the warmth of a coffee mug, the other tapped a PADD against the table, jarring a few crumbs of streusel on the nearby plate. Science was arguing for more sensor time again, and this time the explanation was becoming increasingly technical as it went on. The other shift leaders were starting to look glassy-eyed. "Ensign… really. I'm convinced. You can have the primary spot on the sensor grid for the entire shift." She sipped her coffee. "Now, Medical?"

 

First contact plus sixty-four hours…

 

Now here was something to brighten her day, she thought, a small smile playing about her lips. Late-shift crew sometimes had a tendency to become sloppy, careless. Not her Marines, though. Five minutes into the inspection, she was pleased to see everything in perfect order, and found herself looking forward to the weapons drills scheduled for the day.

 

First contact plus seventy-seven hours...

 

Harper glared at the chronometer beside the bed which was presently reminding her that she had to be on duty in less than four hours, and hitched the blanket further over her shoulder. She should have been tired; her body certainly was. Her muscles were all filled with the heavy soreness that follows a good workout. But her mind persisted in being active, so here she was, reading in bed and trying to ignore the glowing numbers ticking towards her duty shift.

 

First contact plus eighty-two hours…

 

"…finished their first round of gamma-decay observations, and Engineering wants to takes the long-range sensor grid offline for three hours in order to make some modifications they think will increase sensitivity." She rested the PADD against her knee, looking over at the captain, who was staring out the viewports. "I told them I wanted to see that estimate cut down to one, but even if they can't, I think we should approve it. It worries me that we haven't got any idea where the Pacetrina are."

 

Silence. Davies continued to stare out at the motionless stars. "Captain?"

 

"Hmm?" He glanced at her, startled. "Oh, the sensors… Yes. Go ahead."

 

"Thank you, sir." Raising the PADD again, she read, "Beta Shift's security response time yesterday was twice their average; we're not sure what happened…."

 

First contact plus eighty-nine hours…

 

She moved smoothly from kick to block to punch, reveling as usual in the ease of the movement. The form was a mixture of Terran, Vulcan, and Klingon martial arts favored by many Starfleet officers for its adaptability. Her personal routine was exhausting, but she'd grown accustomed to pushing herself to the extremes of her abilities. Once, it had been necessary. Now it was just exhilarating.

 

First contact plus ninety-five hours…

 

Harper climbed into the stands, enjoying the bright sun conjured in the holodeck program. Velocity wasn't usually played outdoors, but she suspected the crew was feeling a little stir-crazy, hence the decision to program an outdoor arena. The tournament was fairly popular, to judge from the listings board looming over the playing field, despite the last-minute organization.

 

First contact plus one hundred eight hours…

 

She suspected the helm and science officers of playing a game. The chirps coming from their consoles had an oddly similar sound, though offset. Almost as if there was a cross-bridge memory challenge going on… Part of her wanted to call for a battle readiness drill, and part of her had an impish urge to try and throw them off with her own sequence. Still, Harper supposed she couldn't really blame them, considering that the completion of Science's gamma-decay experiments had been the last occurrence of any import this watch.

 

First contact plus one hundred thirteen hours…

 

Whistling, Harper tagged the last file with her personal id and placed it with the daily reports. That was the last piece of work for her today, so barring a crisis, she was done three hours early. Leisure unheard of, in her experience. Perfect timing; there was a new holodeck program in the last download they'd done at base, and she'd been wanting to give it a try.

 

First contact plus one hundred twenty-six hours…

 

Harper woke gasping and feeling trapped. Sense returned quickly, but it took longer to slow her racing pulse. With a growl, she shoved away the covers and stood, reaching for a fresh uniform. Sleeping was pointless now; she might as well get started on the day a couple hours early.