Saturday, 0559. Everyone knew what that meant. 0600 was a minute away, and it was rolling up its sleeves, puckering its lips and preparing for a grand entrance. Today, it had its eyes on a pair of Helmswomen. Not a second delayed, it barged into their quarters and shattered any semblance of silence with a string of harsh beeps! They had mail.

If they dared to snag their PaDDs from wherever the night had left them, Evelyn and Sara would see the words Presence Requested snaking across their screens. Should they open it, they would find a quaint message from the ship’s XO:

Good morning. Please meet me in the mess hall at 0700 hours. Duty uniforms are not mandatory, but I suggest you wear something comfortable. - Lt. Cmdr. T’Aria

There was no rest for the Helmswomen.

– T’Aria, XO