Adrian’s alarm pinged once and his eyes popped open, his senses immediately alert. Given that he had been on the late shift in sickbay last night it was a bit surprising.

He stretched, rose from bed, and straightened his bedding before heading to the refresher for a shower.

Ten minutes later, dressed in his medical uniform, he entered the main living area, moved over to the desk and checked for messages automatically.

He noted there was one from Ops informing the crew to be prepared for departure from space dock.

Strange, he mused to himself, he had not been made aware of any new mission parameters in sickbay last night. Something must have come up unexpectedly.

He frowned as he tapped his console, keyed in an ID and waited for a response.

His monitor flickered on as he slid into the chair, folded his hands on his desk and waited for a response.

On the screen an elegant, middle aged Vulcan woman with her hair pinned up into a simple coif on her neck and muted robes draped over her slender form, looked back at him.

“Adrian.” His mother, T’Pris said in brief greeting.

The communication was crisp and clear since it was coming a short distance from Vulcan where his mother had retired to research neural science while offering counselling services.

An admittedly strange occupation on Vulcan, Adrian mused to himself. But Vulcans were not immune to psychological trauma or disease as much as they pretended not to be.

“Mother.” He responded with a brief dip of his head. “ I wanted to inform you that we have been notified that we will be departing space dock soon. I do not know where we will be going as of yet. Given that is the case, it is logical to assume that it is not an emergency. But, the Asimov is an Intelligence ship so our missions are not always advertised. “

A ghost of a wry smile passed over T’Pris’ face as she nodded.

“ You are working for Star-Fleet, my son. Sudden departures are par for the course. I wish you well and a successful mission, whatever it is. “

T’Pris had been deployed in Star-Fleet for 28 years and well knew its demands. She had been mentally injured during one of the missions aboard the Valkyrie. Her difficulty in recovering from that mission had led to her occupation change from Starfleet Medical and her early retirement.

Her hand rose up into the Vulcan salute,
“Live long and prosper, my son.”

“Peace and long life, my mother.” Adrian responded before he cut off the communication his eyes flicked to the chronometer as he noted there was just enough to head to the mess hall before his shift.

He rose quickly and exited his quarters.> >

Dr. Adrian Sorel