Ridiculous

 
A nebulous term at best. It can mean what you want it to mean.
good, bad, indifferent.
silly, misunderstood, inane.
chaotic, entropic.
Pretty much all about me. LOL maybe I should change my name.
I work, I sleep, I play. Seemingly NOT ridiculous, and yet it is. My choices are my own, and yet sometimes it seems that choices are made for me.
That is ridiculous. Meaning: good AND bad, silly AND yes, random. 
What is ridiculous about it? The universe works in mysterious ways. Chaotic, silly. Perhaps my life is part of a grand plan. Perhaps it is all just a roll of giant troll dice... That is a question of life that most people, I think, have to deal with.
Nothing is set in stone, you can make your own fate or at least nudge it in a different direction. I have to believe that, else all is for naught. If my path is predetermined and it can't be changed, that sucks. I like ridiculous. And random.


speaking of paths, and random acts of random ridiculousness...
next Interregnum:


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***************

***************

                The tall man with the fair skin and the black hair is standing on the balcony, looking out over the vast expanse of concrete. He is looking for something, scanning the horizon. He brings the distance viewer to his eye and continues to search.

                “Ah, there you are, beautiful lady.”

                There is a breeze developing, the trees that line the edges of the Spaceport bending their trunks as though in welcome. The breeze builds into a storm of wind. The man is focusing the viewer on a portion of the sky where a small speck is just barely visible to the naked eye. As the wind increases, so does the sound, low at first, but growing louder with each passing moment.

escapism

Escape.
A simple, short word that can mean many different things in different context.
My favorite context is "get away". I can easily escape from real life by logging into World of Warcraft or Guild Wars. I can escape from my workday by leaving the room. Sometimes I can escape in general by taking a vacation trip.
So- Why does this come up randomly, now? Partially because we just made plans to take a trip with the family that I am looking forward to. Partially because there are a TON of things I would like to escape from on a daily basis...
And partially because the main reason I began writing was to escape from myself. I am not a prolific writer, making words about varying subjects in a variety of styles. My characters and story came from a need to make sense of, and an outlet for, my daydreams and wishes. To have a vehicle for expressing feelings, thoughts, ideas is therapeutic in a way I had not considered previously. Just the act of typing out the words, seeing the story develop, the fact that I can make them whatever I want seems to scratch some of the itch of my insecurity.

Though it would be more than fabulous if someone were to see this blog and want to help edit, etc., that is not why I am putting it out there. One of my greatest faults is my shyness. I don't like to do things if they will put me in any sort of spotlight. Some people may not believe this, because I tend to overcompensate, but there it is. Escape from myself? Not really, just sort of.
Whether or not anyone ever reads this story, it still has performed its function, and I am happy with it.

Onward...

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Chapter 6

*********

      
                Everyone on the Draco had heard my call for help. My voice can be very loud when I need it to be, apparently. But, unfortunately for us, by the time the Engineers had realized what they were feeling and hearing it was too late. The Bay doors had opened just as the ultra-white light of the Transport was vanishing. My mental cries faded with the light. The only thing left to show that we had been there was a small metal cylinder, slowly rolling to a stop against the corridor wall.

                Lieutenant Dalton slapped her communicator. “Security! Captain Bianchi has been abducted!”

                At the exact same moment, the Red Alert Siren began screeching throughout the Ship. The MPs, our Military Police, led by Colonel Zuajko, arrived on Level Twenty within a minute. They fanned out throughout the Level, concentrating on the nearby Engineering Department. A few of them left to go up to Level Twelve, where my Lab is.

                “Colonel. What do you see?”

                “Commander. Nothing yet, Sir. There is a spray cylinder here, we have contacted Doctor Palmer to retrieve it for testing.”

                “All right, keep at it. Let me know the instant your men find anything else.”

                Commander Walker paced the Bridge, waiting for some sort of contact. He knew that the Agrint ship had to be nearby. However, the Federation had no technology that would allow Transport to or from a Ship while in Hyperspace. We could not even trust our sensors. The Draco was almost blind while outside the normal realm of Space, relying upon the established routes, minimal directional sensors, and the expertise of the Navigators in planning the entry to get where she was going.

                Luckily, my friend Mark Quinn was at the helm when the Alert sounded. He is among the best in his chosen specialty, which happens to be Navigation. There is not much about the workings of Hyperspace, nor of the controls of the Draco, that he does not know and understand intimately.

                “Lieutenant Commander Quinn. How long before we will be able to exit Hyperspace?”

                “Not long, Sir. We have been doing our best to follow the directional trail left by the Agrint ship. It’s almost disappeared now, Sir.”

                “Hopefully, that means they have stopped or at least slowed down. Get us out ASAP, Mr. Quinn.”

                “Aye, Sir.”

               

many thanks

My real-life family is a constant and consistent inspiration and support system. I don't thank them enough for their contributions to my sanity as well as my work. Thank you, family!
However, today I would also like to put out a big "Thank You" to my otherfamily. These are people I spend a great deal of time with, although we may never meet in person. My virtual boyfriends, my invisible girlfriends - my WoW family. It still amazes me, even after over 2.5 years of "playing", that one can become so very attached to a group of people that one has never seen. It's crazy.
Many thanks to Wrynns Raiders, my guildies who take care of each other, confide in one another, make that pretend world a pleasant one. Perhaps someday we can arrange a meetup - Vegas would be fun...
:) And most special thanks to you, my men of Unified, you crazy kids who give me something to look forward to each week. You all make me laugh on a regular basis in a time where I really need that. It is a wondrous thing to be part of a team who work together toward a common goal - who are a bunch of silly little boys when it suits them and a serious well-oiled machine when it comes time to get the job done. I have learned from each of you, about different music styles, about politics, religion, literature... it's about the game but it's about life, too. You ROCK and I am so happy to know all of you.
This is the week we WILL get Deathwing! I can feel it!


* * * * * * * * * * * * *


... on the story - there will be more of the Interregnums, with cryptic references and snippets of information about past and present events. Some perhaps more "interesting" than others, but all providing a piece of the story.

*************

***************

                A hush falls over the auditorium as the young woman steps forward. She is small in stature but she commands the attention of every person in the room. Her wavy dark-brown hair is tied back from her beautiful face with a green ribbon that matches her gown perfectly. Her hands tremble slightly as she makes her way across the stage.

                She is the last to step up to the podium, the rest of the graduates have already accepted their Diplomas. As she approaches the University President to shake his hand, he motions to her to stop.

                “Ladies and Gentlemen. we have an unusual honor to bestow this evening. Normally, as you know, a Doctorate is only awarded at the Ceremony of the Councils. However, in this case, an exception has been made.”

                The crowd begins to whisper. They know that this is an unprecedented occasion. The family of the dark-eyed, dark-haired new graduate sit very still in the front row of the auditorium, holding each others’ hands. A smiling young woman, with bright red hair and porcelain white skin, sits with the family, as proud as anyone, if not more.

                The University President brings forward a large, framed piece of parchment. He holds it up so everyone in the audience is able to see. The young woman’s eyes fill, and she lowers her head. But she quickly raises it again, startled as she feels something. She glances around, not sure where the strange feeling is coming from. It abates, and she turns to the President.

                He has not noticed her unease, and continues. “May I present... Doctor Elizabeth Thorne.”

                The auditorium erupts into thunderous applause. The entire audience, all standing, cheering. The young woman shuts her eyes, briefly, clamping down on her receptors so she will not be overwhelmed by the emotional tide sweeping over her.

                The new Doctor accepts her Diploma, smiling as she curtseys to the President. She moves to the podium at his nod.

                Looking out over the assembly, she has a moment of uncertainty, she is feeling that strange something again.

                “I am not experienced at speech-making.” She smiles. “However, I wanted to thank my wonderful, supportive family and friends for standing by me all through my career. Without their support and that of the University, I would not be standing here now. Thank you to all who helped me, taught me, put up with me,”  She smiles again at the audience, “I will do my very best not to let you down.”

                A ripple of laughter, a collective sigh runs through the audience. Then, a tall man in the back row stands up. All heads turn to him, he is emanating so much Authority, he is irresistible. The University President looks on, calmly, as he watches the reactions of the crowd.

                “If I may, Doctor?” The deep voice of the newcomer is powerful, yet subdued.

                The young woman, the new Doctor, looks at the blond man in confusion. He seems familiar. His uniform boasts Federation Alliance medals, and a shiny Admiral’s Rank on the collar.

                “Of course, Sir. What can I do for you?”

                The auditorium seethes with curiosity as all heads turn to watch the Admiral approach the stage.

                “I am here to offer you a job, Doctor. Would you care to join us at Federation Headquarters?” His handsome face is serious and yet caring, and again she feels that sense of familiarity.

                She tilts her head, considering. She looks at her family, and her best friend, seated in the front row. Then, she smiles brightly, her face expressing her happiness.

                “I would like nothing better, Admiral. When would you like me to start?”

                The audience laughs, a joyous sound echoing in the chamber as the Admiral makes his way to the stage. The young woman waits for him, and tries to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that she cannot quite identify.

*********************************

lights camera action

It's so hard to know how much.
How much detail, how much action, how much insight.
I think I use as much detail as I would like to have. A lot of the books I read have many passages and even pages that I simply skim over... even some of my favorites. Really, Mr H, much as I ADORE your work and couldn't live without re-reading a good portion of it on a regular basis, I don't have the patience for all that math, or all that genetic mumbo-jumbo, or even some of the word games you play(ed) both in the actual story and in the writing of said story. (wow, run-on sentence much?)
Another issue I come up against regularly is language and colloquialism. It seems to me that what is common speaking language here and now might not be in a few years, and certainly not in a galaxy far away that we don't even know the name of. In my personal real life I may use certain terms and references but when I write it just doesn't seem appropriate. I have seen many stories, especially within the past few years, that use "cuss words" (LOL) on pretty much every page, and most particularly in "romantic" context. I don't think it adds anything to the story, it isn't descriptive. To my mind it's a lazy way out.
Instead of finding a way to evoke a visual or a feeling, just stick in a few expletives. That'll get the job done. A sex scene just isn't complete without fully exercising the right to the words "tit", "clit", "cum", etc. Right?
Now don't get me wrong, I can and do use those fucking words and many others just as well as anyone. Sometimes, perhaps too much.
BUT I don't spill that over into my work. It just doesn't fit, either my style or my characters. Or the story, for that matter. The books I enjoy the most and go back to again and again, what I and many others consider "classics", do not use that kind of language. It's just not necessary.


Onward we go.

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Chapter 5

                *********

                We found ourselves on the Transport Pad on Level Six, just down the corridor from our quarters. The glaring lights in the corridor burned my eyes, and I blinked to clear the tears. I had expected that we would be sent to Medical, but we landed on the circular platform in the midst of what felt like a huge crowd. My mental receptors cringed, then as quickly subdued the commotion. We were greeted by several Officers, Commander Walker first among them, and Doctor Palmer, a Medical kit by her feet and thick woven blankets in her hands. The Doctor walked over to me first, dropped  the blankets, and hugged me tightly. She didn’t seem to notice when I slipped my hand as stealthily as possible into her pocket.

                The Captain looked around at his Crew, smiling weakly. Some small something caught my attention, a slight wisp that vanished before I could focus on it.

                Commander Walker stepped forward. “Captain, Sir. Are you all right?”

                “Yes Commander, I...” He didn’t get any further than that before his legs began to buckle underneath him.

                Arms reached out to catch him as he slumped to the floor.  His face was ashen, his hands shaking. I broke through the small crowd, pushing the Officers out of my way. His skin was chilled, his breath shallow as I knelt by him and tenderly touched his forehead.

                “Paolo? Can you hear me?” I took his hands in mine and brought them to my face. “Can you feel me? Please!”

                Doctor Palmer crouched down by us, her kit by her side. She brought out a scanner and began to run it over his body, arms, chest, legs. His inner voice was so weak, but he was trying to reach out to me. The scanner showed nothing unusual for a moment, only the expected pools of blood under the bruises, until the display suddenly began to flash.

                “What? What is it?”

explicitly

How much is too much? How much is enough? I come up against those questions often as the stories develop. Since I put the story down as it forms, there may be a lack of in-depth descriptions and explanations at first and it will become necessary to go back and add more. However, that aside, how much description and explicit detail is necessary?
For example, personally I find that a few brief words can create a picture of a person in my mind. This does not work for everyone. It also does not change that impression should there eventually be a picture of said person, in a movie or TV show or whatever. I've seen movies made from books that I know and love, and the fact that they made Lucy brunette in the movies (this bugs me. a lot) does not change the fact that in the book she has blond hair.  This is not overly emphasized, it's maybe mentioned once or twice. Should it ever come about that there is a movie made of my story, the actors most likely will not be 100% my vision of my characters, they can't be, though they may come close.
Poetic license and personal preference will play a part in how one sees something in the mind's eye, no matter how many words are used to describe it. I am not sure that it's better to use hundreds of words to describe a person, place or thing than to leave at least some room for interpretation up to the reader.

Rambling? Perhaps. That's what this blog forum is for.

Next Interregnum. We meet some new characters. Sort of.

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***************

The Council- One

               

The Council Chamber is full to capacity.  All of the members are transfixed by the images being displayed in the holographic sphere. The translation devices attached to the dais allow the audience to understand the unusual sounds coming from the display. The beings shown in the sphere are going about their business, unaware that they are being watched.

                In a language that no Human has ever heard, nor has any other known race, the Chief Council addresses the assembly.

                “Our plan is in jeopardy. However, our agents are already in transit. We shall prevail.”

                The cacophony in the hall rises, as the members all begin to speak at once. When the uproar begins to subside, one voice is heard above the rest.

                “Master Chief, how much time is needed? This plan has been active for many cycles.” The speaker is another Senior member of the Council.

                The Chief is unfazed by this interruption. The plan has been sent off track, but the agents, ones who are able to adapt and assist, have already begun the recovery process. The display view changes, moving through Space, slowing as it nears its destination. The view widens and the planet fills the sphere with its eerie blue light.

                This planet is tilted oddly, its satellites many and of varied sizes. The swirls of its gaseous atmosphere create patterns and pools of blue and white light in the Council Chamber. The Council members are once again transfixed as the planet rotates in front of them. The view expands again, and one of the smaller satellites begins to fill the holographic sphere.

                Another object comes into the view, a large metal cylinder orbiting the strange blue planet. It is following the path of the small satellite, spinning on its axis as it travels. There is nothing remarkable about this object, other than the fact that it is there. The Chief takes note of the members who react to this image, they will be useful in the future. The rest of the Council members look on, indifferently, until the scene changes again.

                This time, the planet displayed is mostly brown and green, land masses covering a great portion of the surface. The blue areas are few, and this time they are water, not gas. This planet draws the intent interest of the onlookers.

                “There has been an incident. An unforeseen event that we could not have predicted.”

                The next image is that of a large pit, a hole dug in the soil of the planet. There is much rustling in the Chamber as the members, every one, react in shock.

                “What are we to do, Chief Council? This is a devastating development.”

                “We wait. Our agents have been watching one of our projects. It will be ready soon. In the meantime, we wait.”

                The rest of the Council is restless, wanting to believe, wanting to know that their leader will resolve the problem and put their plan back on track.

                The Chief remains still until the commotion quiets once again.

                “We cannot interfere, not personally. It will take time, but that is why we have sent our Travelers to that region.”

                “But will they be able to assist? They cannot show themselves either.”

                “They will make themselves known. In addition, there are others who will assist, knowingly or not.”

               

                The Council members leave the Chamber, it echoes with the rustling of their passing. The Chief continues to watch, and wait.

               

****************************              

wonders never cease

In my travels around the internet, I often come across websites that promise various things. From "ultimate deals" to "becoming a millionaire in 30 days" it's just amazing all the wonders you can achieve just by clicking your mouse...  However, occasionally I do find something that, even if it doesn't work miracles, is actually a helpful, useful tool.
One such tool that I use on a daily basis is Thesaurus . There's a tab on the site for Dictionary as well. They have a daily word, quotes, games... Anyone who is interested at all in words, or even simply needs a synonym or definition quickly, there you go. Bookmark it, use it.


Onward we go. Next Chapter.

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Chapter 4

                *********

                There were so many questions in my mind, not the least of which was, how did they evade the security systems? And, why did I not sense their minds? And, most immediately for me at the moment, what is that horrid smell?

                The cloth over my eyes, the arm around my torso, the soft body I was forced to lean against, they felt Human. And yet, there were no feelings being directed at me, at least not from him. The only feelings I could sense, with some great effort, came from the Captain. He was alive, and nearby, that much was apparent. I attempted to reach out to him, but the only result was more sharp pains in my head. It was impossible to determine whether it was my pain or his at that point. Everything seemed to meld together in a blurry cloud.

                The musty, acrid smell assaulting my senses was completely unfamiliar. As the bright light disappeared, I was certain that we were no longer aboard the Draco. Once more I wondered how our updated systems had been overcome. There was really only one way that could be possible, and it was too awful to contemplate.

                The cloth was removed from my mouth, and from my eyes. But that did not increase my comfort at all, as the man merely moved his hand to my arm so that I was pinned even more securely against his body. I felt as the blood began to flow once more from my lip when the cloth was so roughly pulled out. As my eyes cleared, I looked around to see that the room we were in was unremarkable. Plain, featureless walls, a row of lights along the edges of the ceiling. The Captain was indeed nearby, slumped on the hard floor, wrists bound together in his lap. Thankfully, he was merely unconscious, breathing steadily, though how he got that way was a mystery.

symbols

Does everything always have to mean something? I don't think so.
Sometimes a train is just a train.
Other times, of course, it's not.

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***************

Interregnum Four

                The handsome, fair-skinned young man is standing at the podium, his black hair perfectly groomed, his deep grey eyes glistening. His uniform is flawlessly pressed, the insignia on the collar twinkling in the bright stage lights, and it fits him as though he was born to wear it. He is addressing the assembled crowd, in a clear, confident voice.

                “...and may we all find our dreams in the Stars. I know I shall. Congratulations and best wishes to all. Good Night.”

                The crowd cheers as the young man steps back. Their admiration for him comes through in the thunderous applause that continues for minutes, even as the next speaker approaches. The domed chamber, large enough to accommodate several thousand people, is full to standing room for this event.

                The beautiful blond woman in the front row is watching with great interest. She smiles as the young man moves away from the podium and glances her way. He nods to her, briefly, then shakes his head in confusion as she blows him a kiss.

                As he makes his way off stage, the new graduate of the Fleet Officer Training Class is hailed by a familiar voice. He stops and waits in the wings, bright stage lights on one side, the darkness of backstage on the other. The symbolism is not lost on the speaker as he approaches.

                “Excuse me, Lieutenant Bianchi. May I have a moment of your time?”

                “Of course, Captain, Sir. What can I do for you?”

                The approaching speaker is quite tall, with blond hair, perfectly groomed. His pristine uniform boasts gleaming performance awards and medals on the chest, in addition to the Captain’s Rank insignia on the collar. His intelligent blue eyes look appreciatively at his protege.

                “Congratulations, Lieutenant. You are now officially the youngest graduated Officer in the history of the Federation, with the rank of Lieutenant. Quite an accomplishment. Have you been notified of your coming assignment?”

                The young Officer shakes his head, smiling at his mentor. His eyes are shining with happiness, and pride. He has done well and he knows it. He has been working toward nothing but this day for many years, as many as he can remember.

                “No, Sir. Not yet.”

                The older, more experienced Officer looks at the younger with pride of his own. He knows more about this young man’s life than he has ever let on. No-one but the two of them know how very difficult it was for this Lieutenant to get to this point.

                No-one but the two of them know how anxious he is to begin his assignment, nor why he feels so strongly about leaving this planet. No-one except, perhaps, the young blond woman, still in her seat in the auditorium, waiting.

                “I believe you will be assigned to the Scorpius at this time, Lieutenant.  I am not on the committee but that was my recommendation.  You will get your orders by tomorrow, as that is when the Scorpius is due to depart.”

                The younger man looks at the older, trying to determine whether he is hiding anything. There is no deception. There is only the pride, and anticipation. He salutes the Captain, standing straight as can be, the perfect example of a Fleet Officer.

                “Aye, Sir. I look forward to getting under way.”

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dream

When I wake up in the morning and can't wait to get to my computer, I suppose that is a good thing. This morning I had to find pen and paper while the dogs were eating their breakfast - way before anyone should have to be awake - to write down the idea that had come to me during the hazy minutes right before I was fully awake.
Hopefully that idea will work out as well as it sounds in my head.


**********************

Chapter 3

                *********

                When the Alarm Klaxon sounded to indicate that we were entering Hyperspace, I silently thanked the Captain for the warning. I got up and stepped over to the window to watch, as the Draco slowly turned, the Stars outside sliding past us. As we moved faster and faster, the Stars began to blur, and suddenly there was a moment of blackness, as though all the lights in the Universe had been shut down. But then, sight returned and outside were the beautiful multicolored ribbons that meant we were in Hyperspace. I let my breath out in a long sigh, with relief as well as appreciation for the beauty of it. The ribbons, flowing past, separating and merging as we sped through them, seemed almost alive, conscious. Hypnotic.

                Tearing my eyes away from the view, I turned back to my desk. We had work to do. There was a Colony that wouldn’t have any food soon if we didn’t figure out what had happened to their Hydroponics Lab.

                “Mr. Parker, have you found anything yet?”

                “Not yet, Doctor. There is not much data on this Colony Six. We may need to wait until Headquarters is able to get us our supplies.”

                “All right then, do the best you can. You have other projects to work on as well. Thank you...”

                There was something, something unfamiliar in my mind. I shook my head and tried to focus on it. There were strangers aboard. The Admiral’s men, could that be it? Why would they have so abruptly invaded my thoughts? We’d had visitors before, and we often transported Officers from other Ships. There were strangers and aliens on the planets we visited. What was different about these? My eyes closed as I tried to focus. Nothing unusual came to me, in fact the more I directed my energy, the further away the sensations became.

                “All right, Elizabeth, this is ridiculous. You don’t have time for this. When the time comes, you will be introduced to these investigators. Don’t anticipate trouble. These are Fleet Officers, sent by the Admiral, after all.”

                With a mental shake, and a tug at my shirt, I went through into the main Lab to see what my Team was up to.

Three

The story is writing itself again. That said, it's still only half complete. Probably because I like to get most of the conversations and scenes set as I go. I'm not good at leaving things as an outline.

Anyway, below is the next Interregnum. Enjoy. Chapter 3 will most likely follow tomorrow.

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                The young girl is kneeling in the garden, covered in dusty dirt, her arms elbow-deep in the soil as she digs. She is creating a bed for her newest acquisition, a lovely flowering plant with heart-shaped leaves. Her mind is completely focused on her work, until something forces its way into her consciousness. She wipes sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm as she looks around, startled by the arrival of a stranger.

                “Hello. Who are you?” She stares at the man, something about him makes her uneasy.

                The man, dark and stocky with a humorless face, stares back at her. He is wondering what in the Universe his bosses could have been thinking, sending him on this mission. This girl is nothing special, she seems perfectly content digging in the dirt here in the wilderness of the Northern Province.

                The girl keeps staring at him, frowning as she feels his disregard for her. She stands, brushing her hands on her pants, and goes over to him. Her eyes are so very dark and deep. He cannot help but meet her gaze, but only for a moment. He drops his eyes.

                “I am here to make an offer to you and your parents. Where are they?”

                “They are in the house.” She nods in the direction of the homestead. “What kind of offer?”

                The man recovers his composure and says, slowly, “The kind that will change your life, young lady. Shall we go?” He offers his hand, cringing even as he does so, she is so very dirty from gardening.

                She hesitates before accepting his hand. His contempt is very much at the forefront of his mind. She knows that she makes people uncomfortable, but it is not often that they are so open about their unease. Then she realizes that he doesn’t know about her. That makes it worse still. His feelings for her are not because of her abilities, he simply doesn’t think she is worth anything at all. She takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment as she has been taught, then slowly lets it out, calming her mind.

                They walk back toward the house, a young girl just ready to graduate with honors from Secondary School, and an older man, cynical and contemptuous of anything he does not understand. She has an urge to show him just what she can do, but she knows it will not help him, and she knows it will only disappoint her parents.

                Arriving at the house, the girl shows the man to a chair in the large, comfortable living area, then calls to her parents. They both enter, their emotions in turmoil as they realize who this man is and what he wants. They know that their girl is ready to move on with the next phase of her education, but they are not ready to let her go, not yet.

                “Mom? What is wrong?”

                “Liz, this gentleman is here to offer you a place at University. Isn’t that right, sir?”

                The man looks from one to the other in surprise. How did they know?

                “Indeed, yes, Ma’am. Miss Elizabeth has earned a full scholarship, and the University has asked that she be admitted immediately.”

                “But she is too young! She is not ready!”

                The girl feels the conflict in her parents’ minds. They know she is ready to advance. It is they who are not ready. But she also knows that it is her decision. She does not want to leave her friends behind, but if it means heading to Central Province, home of Federation Headquarters...

                “I am ready, Dad. Really. Sir, what do you need me to do?”

                Again, there is no-one to note the day. It continues like any other in the Universe, only these few immediately affected by the import of the events taking place.

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Candle at both ends

Working a story from the beginning and middle at the same time is rather difficult. Since my work was in limbo for so long, some of the details had grown a bit blurred. During the editing of the first few chapters I've been making new notes, on paper! I need to remind myself of the main characters' histories, the various new characters' personalities and loyalties, and to keep a record of the timeline. Perhaps this should have been done prior to beginning again, but that is not how I work.
My style, for the good or not, is to just type what comes into my head. The small details and descriptions can be added at a later time. The important bit is to keep a grip on the story itself and not let later events conflict with what is already known. I don't know how others work - it doesn't matter, really. One has to work in a way that makes sense to oneself. In my case, I am continuing on from where the story had left off many months ago, as well as reviewing and semi-editing the first chapters to post here.

... moving on... next chapter

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Chapter 2

                **********

        

                The Alarm Klaxon sounded, a quick burst that meant we were getting ready to leave orbit. I touched my communicator, the beautiful little brooch in the shape of our Draco.

                “Captain?”

               “Yes, Elizabeth. We have been assigned to follow these Agrints, and find out where they have been hiding all this time. The Admiral is sending a couple of his investigators to join us.”

                After a moment’s hesitation, reaching out to his feelings and receiving nothing more than the normal tension, I said, “All right then, Captain. Will you be able to rest while we wait? It’s still the middle of the night, you know.”

                The amusement came through loud and clear, not only in his voice. “I will be down shortly. I must set things in order here first. You go on to bed, my dear. You have had a busy night yourself.” The amusement gave way to anxiety, anxiety for me.
                My attempt to soothe him was met with gratitude, but it was not very effective. He would continue to be concerned for me, at least until we knew more about what was really happening.

                I went into our lounge to make sure everything was in order. The stars moved slowly outside the huge windows. My plants in their decorative pots sat in rows on the floor, around and near the big comfy sofa. I checked the watering system, then, satisfied for the time being, shut the light and let the door slide shut behind me.

                Our quarters had been the Captain’s alone before we were married. Since I had moved in, I had tried to make the rooms as homelike as possible. There were, of course, plants and greenery in every available place. We now had leafy small topiary by the fireplace, flower pots on the desk, hanging planters by the windows and next to the bed. I even had a flowering fern-like plant hanging in the Refresh. Between my plants, the most comfortable furniture we could replicate, and the mantel and bureau covered with photos and the Captain’s awards, it had become more home to me than anywhere I had ever lived before.

                The bed was calling me. It was past the middle of the night, almost morning, in fact, and I had gotten almost no sleep. Added to the fact of being awakened so abruptly and harshly, it was no wonder my eyelids were so heavy. I had projects and reports waiting for me in my office, there was Lab-work to be overseen, and I needed to be refreshed in case my Captain needed my help. Looking at the timepiece over the desk, I saw that it was Zero Four Thirty. There were a few hours still before I had to be back at work. After one more stretch and some cleansing breaths, I climbed into the bed, burrowed under the covers, and was asleep in seconds.

Interregnum Two

As the storyline continues forward, the backstory has to be expanded as well. The characters all have a history which makes them who they are... and during the writing of this current work, I found myself making various notes in a style that lent itself to being included in the story. Here is the second of these intervals, and there will be more fit in between various chapters as the story progresses.

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                A tall, somber young man walks briskly down the stark corridor. He is wearing a new, unfamiliar uniform and it doesn’t quite fit properly. His soft black hair is newly cropped, and he runs his hand over it, frowning to himself. He is glancing around, watching the people he passes, trying to see if they are watching him. His eyes are quite unusual, an intense deep grey, striking against his fair skin. They seem to see everything, notice everything, even as he keeps walking down the corridor.

                A deep, officious voice says, “And where are you headed, Mr. Bianchi?”

                The owner of the voice is just ahead. The young man straightens his shoulders, and tugs at his uniform jacket as he stops and waits, saluting the speaker as he comes closer. The clean white walls seem to echo with the varied whispers of the people going about their varied business.

                The tall blond man with the serious face looks sternly down at the dark-haired young man. His uniform is freshly pressed, his medals polished, his hair smooth.

                The young man’s voice is more composed than he feels as he answers, “To the Orientation, Sir. I was just given my orders. Sir.”

                “You are late, you know. The class has already begun.”

                The young man frowns again. His hands clench into fists as he debates with himself about what to say next.

                “I am sorry, Captain, Sir. It won’t happen again.” He lowers his head, his eyes sparkling with defiance.

                He does not mention the dreams that have been plaguing his sleep for many nights. He does not understand them, and does not want this superior Officer to think badly of him. He vows to never again be in a position of having to explain himself, when he cannot.

                The Officer looks down at the young man, wanting to smile but unable to show his feelings. He glances around at the people of the Academy, passing by without any visible reaction. They are going about their daily lives, uncaring about these two men, one an experienced Officer, one a new recruit on his first day. They each have a class to teach, or to attend, and are focused on their own concerns.

                “All right, Mr. Bianchi. Go on to your class. I expect to hear a good report of your performance. I recommended you for this, don’t let me down.”

                The young man looks up, his eyes clear and calm. He is confident. He knows this day is the beginning of what he has been working toward ever since he can remember. He has graduated at the top of his class at University, he has no doubts about what his future is to be. His shoulders are square and solid, his head held high.

                “Absolutely not, Sir. You won’t be sorry, I promise... Sir.”

                He salutes the Officer respectfully, waits for the nod of approval, then turns and continues on his way down the corridor.

               

                None of the myriad of Humans in the corridor, or anywhere else at the Academy, notes the momentousness of this day. It passes by like any other, without fanfare.

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