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SD241911.03 ||Bardan|| Alone at Freakin' Last

Posted on 05 Nov 2019 @ 2:44pm by

Mission: Tyr's Hand
Location: Private Quarters - Sydri Bardan

Hours upon hours later. Maintenance was proceeding and the (beyond) exhausted first shift had been replaced by the second shift. Sydri, who had always been the last to leave anyway, completed turnover in record time and headed immediately to her quarters. No stopping. No chatting. Just straight to 'home'. Scary thought that. Home had always been Kerelia and the family home on the shores of the Y'roki Sea and what was it now?

After tonight, home would be quarters better suited to the new position and, as luck would have it, not far from the Arboretum, one of her favorite places aboard the Odin. For tonight though, she entered her quarters, the same she'd had since coming aboard, and sighed with relief as the door closed. Moving on autopilot, lost in thoughts she hadn't taken the time to examine, Sydri headed straight for the shower, stripping as she went, and was just pulling the hair tie out when she stepped in. For a long moment, she just stood there, eyes closed, as the enormity of recent events overtook her. Tears slid down her cheeks and her shoulders shook under the onslaught of the emotions that of necessity she'd been holding back.

Three sets of beds. One upper with a ladder and one lower that stuck out but left a nice little cave. Five brothers and all six of them only minutes apart in age. Endless practical jokes and stealth raids in the middle of the night. The way her father would come home exhausted and just throw that all off when he stepped the door. The way her mother always seem to know what they needed whether that was food or a hug or just someone to listen without judgement. Greeting songs practiced in six-part harmony and performed when they arrived for family events. The way the sun shone on the water. The time she'd dyed Nael's hair blue in retribution for the snake he left in her bed and how, rather than hate it, they'd all ended up getting their hair dyed as well. Chatting over comms. Sharing memories and books and challenges. Was that all gone? Would they know her? Were they the same? Different? The Federation was ... gone. What had happened to Kerelia? Could they get back? Change the timeline back somehow?

She tidied her quarters, changed into an oversized pullover top, and climbed into bed for the three hour nap she needed to remain functional. She curled up, pulling one of the pillows tight against her chest, and just lay there, staring at the wall.


Yawning mightily, she got out of bed and headed to the replicator. She stood there for a moment, frowning at the device, as her brain swam upward to conscious, rational thought through the last tendrils of confused dreams and that particular fog that clung to her upon waking. "French Roast coffee, black. Lemon garlic chicken with green bean and shallot salad." She waited while the replicator responded and when it had done so, took her meal to the desk. While she ate, she checked on second shift's progress and the results of the diagnostics. Everything seemed to be on track which was good and the diagnostics had not turned up anything else that was particularly worrisome.

"Good," she said, a forkful of tender chicken paused before her lips, "that means I can focus on the tasks I've set myself. Always assuming that some brand new crisis isn't about to break when I get there." She chewed thoughtfully, savoring the last bites now that her hunger had been mainly assuaged. She'd never learned how to cook. The six of them wanting to make something special for their parents and having no idea whatsoever how to cook. The coffee had actually plopped when poured. Her job had been scraping the black off the maco while Yanis and Basile had pried the kokajo eggs out of the pan. Okay, the kitchen was a disaster and the food inedible and yet, somehow, it remained one of her favorite breakfast memories. Her father's assurances that he loved coffee he could eat with a spoon. Yanis and Basile preening over the way their mother chewed a mouthful of eggs. How much of the maco they both had eaten.

"Good times," she whispered. "There's got to be a way. I don't want to lose you all."

She returned her dishes to the replicator, dressed in a fresh uniform and fashioned her hair into a loose knot at the nape. She stopped at the door to her cramped, tiny quarters. Last time sleeping here, she thought. I'm ready for the change. She sent a look upward, toward the Bridge. Just don't make the change too big, alright?

Lieutenant Sydri Bardan
Chief of Engineering


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