Waking Nightmares

Posted on Wed 5th Jun, 2019 @ 7:47am by Lieutenant JG Artyom Mikhailov

1,082 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: Mikhailov Family Quarters
Timeline: MD 6, 0400

Realizing that he wouldn't be able to sleep in such soaked bed sheets and not wanting to awaken Matthew by turning on the lights so he could change them, Artyom relegated himself to sleeping on the sofa. He left the bedroom and dimmed the lights in the living room so he could pull a fresh sheet from the closet. When Artyom laid down, he felt no inclination to actually sleep, so he got up again and pulled a PaDD containing recent technical guides and began to study. Without his ADHD stimulants, however, his eyes passed across the text several times without actually reading their meaning, so he set the PaDD down too.

It was already 4 in the morning anyway. He'd be up in an hour or so to start getting Matthew ready. As Artyom started to stand up, the chime at the doorway rang gently.

"Kto by pozvonil tak rano?" Artyom asked himself before ordering the door to open.

"Lieutenant Brandt, reporting for duty," the man swaying in the doorway said. "Hey, wait, you aren't Sasha!" He walked in and looked around owlishly. "What are you doing in Sasha's quarters? And why are they so big?" Abruptly, he sat down on the chair he stood next to, almost falling on the floor in the process. He straightened up and dusted off his uniform, though there wasn't a speck of anything on it.

Darrell squinted at the man on the sofa, who wasn't fully dressed. "Do I know you?" he asked.

Artyom's brows furrowed while the hairs on the back of his neck raised. It wasn't long before he found his heart rate starting to increase again as he tried to evaluate what was going on. The man seemed to be drunk. He started to reach for his comm-badge only to realize that it was on the nightstand next to his bed. "You are mistaken," Artyom warned, quickly tracing the man's pips with his eyes to determine who was the superior. It seemed that Artyom won out on that one, but the green tunic indicated the man to be a Marine... and Artyom's experiences with them, particularly when alcohol was involved, was mired. "These are not the quarters you seek, and I do not wish you to awaken my son. Please excuse yourself."

"Sasha's not here? What did you do with her?" Darrell laughed. "You two are playing a game with me, aren't you? It's a good one. You had me going there, for a minute." He sat up a little straighter. "Okay, I'll play along. If these aren't Sasha's quarters, then how come the number next to the door is 43-21A? Answer me that! Ha, you can't, can you?" Brandt nodded in satisfaction. "Hey, how about a drink?"

I should have taken an early dose of stimulants after all, Artyom thought, regarding his earlier frustration with the fuzzy-brain that generally came from an under-aroused ADD mind. But it had been too early to consider doing so then. Thankfully, the sense of urgency had brought him to a state of hyper-focus even without his medication. Unfortunately, Artyom was one of those officers who perpetuated the notion of a 'lost lieutenant' as he frequently got turned around even on a starship, let alone a station. He'd only barely passed his land navigation course back in basic.

Hell, he couldn't even fully remember what the numbers out of his own quarters read. Artyom nearly pressed the man further to leave, but decided against doing so lest the combination of alcohol and jarhead put the two in a bad position. "You said these quarters were larger, yes? Then they are clearly not hers. I do not even know who this Sasha is."

"Well, now, see, that's a good thing," the genially drunk pilot said. "You might not be aware of it, but Sasha is mine. Well, as much as she allows anyone to take possession of her. That woman has a mean streak a mile wide if you accidentally make her think you believe you own her."

Brandt chuckled and stood up. "Okay, here's the deal. Let's just check the number outside your door, and we'll see who's right. If you are, I'll leave, no worries. If I am, well then, we have a whole new set of difficulties to work out." Even as he stood there, he swayed slighting and grinned. "Ooops, I might have already had enough to drink."

"You think so, yes?" Artyom mumbled, more irritated at this point than actually concerned.

Walking very carefully toward the door, Darrell said, "Well, come on then, let's see who's right." He walked up to the door, but it didn't open for him. He pushed on it slightly, and said, "Open sesame!" Nothing happened. "Hey, your door's broken," he told the other man.

Artyom signed. While he'd typically left the door set to open automatically, he'd restricted access to all but himself so Matthew couldn't go on an unsanctioned exploration venture. "Door." Artyom said, at which point the doors hissed open to reveal a much brighter corridor than he was expecting.

"That's better," Darrell grinned. Now I can get out." He took a big step across the invisible threshold, and turned to look at the address of the quarters. He looked closely, then backed off a bit and squinted. It wasn't getting through to him that he was on the wrong deck, because his mind was both sure that he was right and muzzy from drink. No synthahol for him! What was the point of that stuff, unless he had to fly the next day?

"Well, what do you know about that?" he finally said, wonder in his voice. "This isn't 43-21A! When did they change the numbers?" He looked wide-eyed at the man still at the door.

"Well, hey, I'm sorry, fella. I don't know who changed things around, but a promise is a promise. I said I'd go, so off I go." He grinned one more time and turned, almost tripping over his own feet and swung with exaggerated care down the hall, whistling a tune.

Artyom watched the door close and sighed a small breath of relief. He looked at his chronometer, realizing that he had thirty-some minutes before his alarm would go off and he'd need to start getting Matthew ready. Seemed like a good time to lay back on the couch for a bit and try to relax before the new round of chaos ensued.

 

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