It was late, the wee hours of the night aboard the Asimov. The ship was running on lower lighting in most of the common spaces to at least give some semblance of a day/night cycle.

Miranda tossed fitfully in her sleep, soaked in sweat.

The sheets tangled around her.

She thrashed now and again. Half formed words escaped her.

More twitches, more jerks.

She let out a blood-curdling scream, sitting bolt upright In an instant she was free and scrambling to her feet. Something tackled her, taking to the floor. Blades in hand she slashed and slashed. It’s grip loosened and she rolled to her feet, whirling around looking for … the next… something. Person? Enemy.

But she was alone. In her quarters. On the Asimov. Right? Wasn’t she? …

One trembling hand reached up to her left eye. She could see out of it again. But they immediately encountered the cybernetics too. Not a dream. It was still hard to catch her breath, coming fast and shallow now. Hyperventilating.

Miranda