“The Sacrifice of Innocents”
Stardate 74334.3;
May 02, 2397
Episode 57
Prologue
Sleep.
It
was something that Captain Alan Christopher had longed for more of during the
Elorg War—and now that the war had ended, he found himself with the time to get
that sleep. And he had also found it to be a two-edged sword indeed.
On
the one hand, it was something so wonderfully pleasant to spend the night
doing, finally regaining the rest he had lost. It almost felt like heaven the
moment he’d lain himself down on his own bed again.
On the
other hand, however, he found his sleep to be haunted, on occasion, by
nightmares. Unfortunately, waking up was not enough to make them simply go
away, because these nightmares were all too real. He saw images of Xi’Yor’s
evil visage, and images of the men and women who had died during the war.
He
was relieved they didn’t torment his sleep every night. Otherwise, he feared he
would get very little of it.
With
a sigh, Alan awoke, glanced at the chronometer beside his bed, and reveled in
having the luxury to roll over and pointedly ignore the time displayed on the
unit. Granted, it was only a momentary pleasure, but it was a pleasure
nonetheless.
But in
the process of rolling over, he noticed that the other side of the bed was not
only empty, but cold. And on the floor, there was only one pair of boots,
leading him to realize that Erin was already up and about.
Rolling
back over, he slid the covers aside, feeling the conditioned air aboard the Starlight
prickling at his bare skin. Sitting up, he remained on the edge of the bed for
a moment while his brain sorted itself out, then stood up and plodded into the
sonic shower.
Several
minutes later, he stepped out. Even without true water, the sonic shower still
felt good and left him feeling clean. Not that he encountered much dirt on the
sterile starship he resided upon, but that was beside the point.
The
mere possibility of a dull, boring day was enough to make him giddy, and he
practically skipped to the closet from which he pulled the uniform he would
wear that day. A couple of minutes
later, he emerged from his quarters and headed toward the crew lounge for
breakfast. Anyone who was looking closely would certainly note the spring in
his step, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and the sparkle
in his vibrant turquoise eyes.
It
was, he decided, an excellent day to be alive.
* * *
Commander
Erin Kellar felt happy. And it wasn’t
just because the steaming mug of hot chocolate before her was real—but that was
certainly a major factor in her good mood.
It was simply one of those magical mornings when she found herself
getting up on the right side of bed, and everything seemed to be going her way.
She
sat alone at her table in the center of the crew lounge, enjoying the hot
chocolate and the silence—the latter of which would vanish when her friends
started to arrive.
But
the hot chocolate… The delightful, delightful hot chocolate… Before they’d
headed into deep space again, Erin had had the presence of mind to acquire real
hot chocolate mix from her friends on Earth who had grinned, sent it to her,
and shaken their heads. Erin had a small love for chocolate, in the same way
that space was tinted slightly black. Granted,
her supply would last perhaps a month, at best, but it would be a month of
terribly wonderful mornings.
Through
the large sliding doors, Alan walked, waving cheerfully to a couple of
crewmembers who waved back and wondered why he was waving in the first place.
Judging from the bounce in his step, he was in one of those peculiar moods of
his that led to bizarre conversations, strange remarks, and just general
insanity. In other words, status quo.
He
approached the replicator and ordered a beverage that was almost, but not
entirely unlike coffee, then approached Erin’s table.
“Good
morning to you, and your kin.” Alan stated matter-of-factly.
Erin
paused before she took a sip and said, “What?” in a distinctly puzzled tone.
Alan
opened his mouth, but Erin held up a silencing hand, and said, “Never mind, I
doubt I want to know,” and finished taking her sip.
“I
slept in,” Alan stated proudly after a moment of silence had passed and the
morning had almost returned to normal.
Erin
glanced at the chronometer on the wall near the replicator and rolled her eyes,
“Five minutes. Wow.”
Alan
took a drink, made a face, took another drink, and said, “It is still
technically sleeping in.”
Erin
sighed and said, “Of course, little buddy,” with the type of smile that
suggested she not only doubted his sanity, but flatly disbelieved in its
existence.
Alan
suddenly set his drink down and leaned closer, his nose twitching. Before Erin
could ask what exactly he thought he was doing, Alan asked, “What are you
drinking?”
“…Hot
chocolate,” Erin said hesitantly, “just like I do every morning.”
“It
smells different,” he declared.
Erin
smiled happily and returned, “Because it’s not that replicated shit.”
“Were
I not so amazed at your humor,” Alan stated, “I would inform you to watch your
language.”
“It’s
real. And there’s nothing wrong with my language!” Erin insisted.
“Real
hot chocolate?” Alan’s eyebrows bobbed up, then drifted back down, “Where
are you keeping it hidden? Under your station? In our quarters?”
“I’m
not telling you.”
“It’s
in our quarters, isn’t it? Under the bed? In the sonic shower? Where is it?”
“I’m
not telling you!” Erin argued firmly.
“Why
ever not, dearest Erin?” Alan oozed with irritatingly fake charm.
“Because
you would take it,” Erin said, “And because it’s mine.”
“But
what about enlightened self-interest?” he pleaded pitifully.
“Trust
me, little buddy.” Erin smiled innocently at him. “This is entirely
self-interest.”
Alan
sighed, sullenly took a drink from his own beverage, then said, “Well, today
promises to be a wonderfully dull, delightfully boring day. And that means I
have nothing better to do than find your hot chocolate stash.”
“Just
you wait,” Erin declared, poking a finger firmly in his chest. “Something
will pop up to occupy you!”