Sara entered her quarters and tossed her toolkit onto a nearby chair. It bounced on the cushion and fell to the floor with a soft thump. With a sigh, she pulled the elastic from her hair and shook the light brown strands free. She could still smell the scent of that morning’s shampoo – rose hips and strawberry as she shambled into the tiny sleeping compartment.

Her boots hit the carpet with a thud, each one landing in a different direction as if they, too, sought escape from the day’s burdens. She stripped off her dirty duty jacket, releasing a day’s worth of body odor. Tossing it to the deck in a crumpled heap, she collapsed face-first into the bed. A moment later, the hum of the ship’s systems was interrupted only by her soft rasping snores.

The chirping of her combadge woke her. Stirring in bed, she rolled over, her hand seeking the blankets to pull them over her. The combadge chirped again.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, exploding out of bed, her heart racing. “No, no, no! Washington is going to kill me if I’m late again!” She grabbed one boot and then the other. She had pulled the right one on when the door chimed.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand and her left boot in the other, she crossed her quarters and opened the door. Chief Petty Officer Charles Gibson stood on the other side. His eyes went wide at the sight of the towering Amazon. Her hair was a wild frenzy with a strand sticking to the corner of her mouth, which she self-consciously peeled away from her skin.

“Are you okay, Ensign? You didn’t answer your combadge,” Gibson asked, his concern evident.

Sara turned away, “Come in, Chief. Sorry I’m late,” she said, her tone sheepish. She sat on the armrest of the chair and pulled on her other boot.

“Late?” Gibson asked, his confusion etched across his face.

“For duty,” Sara replied as she rushed into the bedroom. She returned with her duty jacket. She shook out the now wrinkled uniform and gave it a “sniff test”. She wrinkled her nose to the sour smell of body odor and bitter scents of lubricants.

“Ensign, you aren’t on duty until tomorrow morning,” Gibson replied, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Computer, what time is it?” Sara asked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“The time is 20:08 hours,” the computer dutifully responded.

Sara collapsed into the chair, laughter bursting from her like a floodgate opened. Each chuckle released pent-up tension, shaking her body with convulsive spasms of amusement. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she surrendered to the sheer absurdity of the moment, the weight of the universe momentarily lifted by unbridled relief.

After a few minutes, Sara sat up wiping the tears from her eyes. “What can I do for you Chief?” With wild hair, makeup smudged, and half-dressed in a dirty uniform she looked as deranged as she felt.

“Are you sure you are well Ensign?” Gibson inquired, his concern returning.

“Chief, I’m fine. Have you ever been abruptly woken from a deep sleep?” Sara asked, her tone lighthearted.

Gibson chuckled, realization dawning on him, “And you have lost all track of time and reality? Yeah, I think we all have.”

Sara nodded and took a deep breath and asked once more, “What can I do for you Chief?”

Gibson’s expression softened, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Young mister Collins and I were going to grab some drinks. Thought you might want to come along.”

Sara hesitated, glancing down at her disheveled appearance. Despite her reservations, she found herself nodding in agreement. “Yeah, uh… sure, Chief.”

Gibson’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with camaraderie. “We’re off duty. Call me Charles.”

“Okay, Charles.” She frowned and shook her head, “That’s weird I think I’ll stick with Chief.”

Gibson shrugged, “Suit yourself, Ensign.”

Was he hitting on me? She asked herself.  Nah, surely not. He’s just being friendly. He is just one of those guys. She smiled at Gibson and pointed towards the bedroom with both thumbs. “Give me a minute so I can get changed?”

The Chief nodded and gave her a knowing smile, “By all means. Take your time. It’ll be good for Mr. Collins to have to wait. Teach the kid some humility. He thinks that Academy ring is special.”

Sara slid off the chair and headed for the privacy of the other room to change. As she did she replied over her shoulder, “It is special Chief. It just doesn’t make you special.”

Gibson slid into the recently vacated chair and guffawed, “I knew there was a reason I liked you, Ensign.”

From within the bedroom, she shouted back, “You might regret that… I can be a bit much at times.”

Shaking his head in an amused chuckle, “To be fair all you officers are often a bit much.”

A few minutes later Sara emerged from her bedroom wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and ballet flats. She had pulled on a grey Pink Floyd band tee shirt and was brushing out her hair as she strode into the common room. She would have liked to have redone her makeup completely, but wiping away the smudges would have to suffice.

Gibson stared at her like he had just realized for the first time he was looking at a woman. She resisted the urge to shrink from the stare. She didn’t care for extra scrutiny. 

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” Gibson said, his tone admiring.

Sara’s cheeks flushed red and she pushed a strand of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Thanks,” she replied, her voice slightly shy.

“Ready?” Gibson asked with a raised eyebrow. She nodded and they stepped out of the quarters. 

The Midgard Lounge located on Deck 4 was a hive of activity as the doors parted and the din of music and a hundred overlapping voices flooded out. The scents of food from a dozen cultures and alcohol mixed into a sickening sweet, sour aroma. Windows lined the far wall offering a breathtaking view of the ship at warp. On the opposite wall was the bar where several civilian bartenders plied their trade.

Along the left side was a stage for live bands. The stage lighting bathed the musicians in harsh white light. They were playing a folksy tune with banjos, guitars, fiddles, and even a uilleann pipe and hide drums. She didn’t know much about this kind of music, but to her ears, she would have called it traditional Irish. She would have preferred something with a little more electric.  

There was a group from Steller Cartography that played rock and she liked them. Mostly covers of ancient songs like “Take it Easy” and “Turn the Page”, but they had written a few original songs. She liked their original stuff better. It just seemed more relatable over things like cars, airplanes, and some ancient war in Vietnam.

Sara frowned as Gibson led her inside. She squeezed her arms together in an effort to make herself as small as possible as they weaved through the crowd of off-duty officers and crew. I should have stayed in my quarters, she thought as she dodged a male Coridanite.

They pushed their way to the corner of the lounge where Ensign Collins was already sitting and enjoying a cocktail. He waved them over and Sara and Charles pulled out chairs and sat down at the table. Sara held her clammy hands under the table and gave her companions a nervous smile.

“I didn’t think you two were going to make it,” Lance said taking a sip from his highball glass.

“I had to wake Sleeping Beauty up here,” Charles teased.

Sara blushed, “Yeah.”

A waiter arrived and took their drinks. Sara chose a Coke while Charles ordered a beer. Their conversation consisted of small talk. The work in engineering had been grueling over the past few weeks with non-stop double shifts. This was the first not off in a long time, and the fatigue was catching up with them.

The conversation as it often does eventually evolved into talking about their pasts. Charles took a long drink from his beer bottle, He was on his second. Setting it down on the table in front of him he leaned forward on his forearms. “So, Ensign Taylor how about you?”

Sara’s heart skipped a beat, though she knew that question was coming.  She stared into her Coke watching the carbon dioxide fizzle and pop as it rose to the top.  She gave Charles a half-hearted smile, “Oh you know, nothing special. Earth. Starfleet Academy. A ship or two.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow at her response and exchanged a glance with Gibson. “Could you possibly be more vague? You just described eighty percent of the crew on the ship. It’s like you didn’t exist before the Valhalla.”

Sara swallowed the lump in her throat and fought the urge to panic. “I guess I’m just boring.” She tried hiding her emotions with a laugh.

“Now, I know that ain’t true,” Charles said. “We’re friends here. Tell us about your family?”

Sara stood, “Thanks for inviting me Chief.  I… uh…well it’s late. I better get to bed.” She felt a knot tighten in her chest, a knot formed by the weight of her own emotions and the suffocating pressure of the crowded lounge. With a swift turn, she made her way through the throng of people, her movements urgent and frantic.

As she turned and pushed through the crowd heading for the door she thought she heard Charles’s voice calling after her over the noise, which she ignored.  She dodged a Deltan and slipped past a Bajoran before crashing into a Bolian waiter carrying a tray of drinks.  Contents of the drinks flew in all directions, and the glasses fell to the floor with a crash and shattered. 

Cheeks flushed in embarrassment she uttered a hasty apology over her shoulder.  At last, she burst into the corridor and leaned against the metallic wall. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing broken and heavy. Tears streamed down her cheeks unchecked, a silent testament to the turmoil that churned within her.

She took a deep centering breath and shambled down the corridor.  Sara had almost made it to the turbolift when Gibson’s voice shouted after her, “Ensign! Wait!”

She frantically pressed the call button for the turbolift, yet the doors  stubbornly refused to open to allow her into the lift’s safe embrace. At last, the doors parted, but it was too late and Gibson followed her into the car. The two stood in silence as the doors closed with the tension between them almost palpable.

After what seemed like an hour  Gibson broke the silence, “Your quarters?” She nodded, and he told the computer to take them to her deck.  They rode in silence and when the doors parted on her deck he followed her.  At last at the door to her quarters, Gibson spoke again. “Ensign, are you okay?”

There was a long pause and for the first time since leaving the lounge, she spoke. “No, but I will be.” Her lips twitched as if she was about to say something and then she stared down at the deck leaving her thoughts unspoken.

“You wanna tell me about it?”

She shook her head. “There’s a reason I don’t talk about my past.”

“Fair enough,” Charles replied. There was confusion etched into his brow and concern in his eyes. “Sorry, we brought it up.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said just above a whisper. There was raw emotion in her words that seemed to mix embarrassment, fear, and regret.

“I’m here for you if you need to talk.”

“Thanks… I don’t think so though.” She unlocked the door to her quarters and they slid open. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Gibson said sadness and concern in his voice.

“Good night… Charles.” 

With a heavy heart, the doors sealed shut behind Sara, enveloping Chief Gibson in an eerie silence. He stood alone, his gaze fixed on the closed doors as if searching for answers that eluded him. Drawing in a deep breath, the Chief exhaled a weary sigh, the weight of the evening’s events settling heavily on his shoulders. With a resigned shake of his head, he tucked his hands into his pockets, heading for his quarters.