Miranda wandered the corridors of the ship. She was trying to get to the place she needed to be at. Turn. Turn. Left turn, right turn. Down the corridor. No matter where she went, she couldn’t find it. But it was right there. Making another turn, she found a turbolift. =^=Engineering.=^= Was that where she was supposed to go? The lift whirred for a second, or was it an eternity?

The doors opened, and she stepped out. Into the corridor. But it was a hanging garden with a thin layer of fog along the floor. Weird. Whatever. Stepping out of the lift she made her way forward, then around another corner to a T-intersection. Pausing, she looked around, confused. Just then she spotted another crew member approaching. “Hey, do you know how to get to engineering?”

He stopped, looking her up and down, then opened his mouth. “Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.” The words began to morph into a sound, an alarm. The sound of an alarm clock screeching. It sent a spear of pain through her head. Reaching up she placed her hands over her ears. It persisted. The sound was … somewhere else.

With a groan she realized it was the sound of her alarm. The dream collapsed almost immediately as she physically reached out, fumbled with the controls, then shut it off. A low groan escaped her. I don’t wanna. But she had to. Five… four… three.. two… one. She threw off the covers and sat up. Aaand immediately regretted it. The throbbing in her head increased by an order of magnitude.

“Lights?” They began to come up. “Easy easy..” They slowed in brightening. “That’s good.” Slowly oozing to her feet, she stumbled for the small adjoined bathroom to get ready.

The shower helped. A little. At least she didn’t smell like a distillery with shine coming out of her pores. Hair still damp, she made her way down the corridor, dressed in her work clothes. They weren’t really a uniform since they’d been tossed in the replicator to be reclaimed a while ago. Dark cargos, comfortable but good boots, form fit undershirt, a short-sleeved work shirt you’d see on most any mechanic over that, button down style but she left it open. The corridors were bright enough to make her head and eyes throb, so she’d added a baseball cap with a curved bill and shades to go with it.

The floor was still a little … wobbly. But mostly she could walk normally. Finally she made her way into the mess hall, and the din of conversation was almost more than she could handle at first, but it settled down. Moving to the nearest replicator she punched in her order. Tea, Lady Grey. Hot. A liter of it. Then pancakes and some orange juice on the side. With her prize in hand she moved over to a table that was devoid of life, but with a couple of chairs still there, set 120° apart. Dropping down, she rested her elbow son the table, putting her head in her hands for a minute.

Martel