Alan walked down the corridor to his quarters. These early days of settling into his new job meant long hours, it was late. His schedule was out of order and so he was anxious. He came to his door and checked his watch 11:14. He waited. A minute passed. 11:15. He entered and began his nightly bedtime ritual.

He changed out of his uniform and into a set of pyjamas given to him by his mother before he left. He hung up his uniform jumpsuit just so, and what he had measured and marked in the closet to be 4.5 inches from his civilian clothes. Far enough that the two lives would never mix. He checked for messages or letters, and found one message waiting.

As he hit play, his father’s face appeared. “Hi Alan. It’s been too long since we last sent you a video message, I know.”
“Four days too long.” Alan interjected.
“And we’re sorry. Things got a little hectic around here and it’s not as easy to get messages to you as it used to be. We’re very proud of the work you’re doing. From what we understand, you’re the one and only Linguist on this Bonaventure ship you’re on? That’s remarkable. You know that they could have made a lot of excuses to overlook your skills, but they’re letting you do your job. I know you’ll be having difficulties right now, but once you settle in and they see what you can do, the whole galaxy is waiting for you. Best wishes from home - Dad.”

Alan’s head sank, not out of any emotion, but he was analysing what his father had said, trying to determine if it was sincere.

He didn’t know. He’d just have to trust that his parents would never lie to him.

He went to bed and curled up in something almost resembling the fetal position and began his final nighttime ritual. Saying ‘good night’ in every language he knew.

-Lt.(j.g.) Alan Dysart, Linguist