“The backshops have been rotating people through in split-sixes, ma’am,” Barrett said. Normally under general quarters everyone worked a twelve-hour shift to provide maximum overlap between the three watches, but with not enough work to go around most department heads preferred to divide that further into six-hour shifts to keep the boredom and fatigue at a minimum until the ship was actually in combat.

“Very well,” Celesta nodded. “You have the bridge until the relief from CIC arrives.”

“I have the bridge aye, Captain.” Barrett nodded and stood, walking over to Lieutenant Ellison to assist in getting everyone moving to where they needed to be.

Celesta knew she’d need to take a “downer” to try and counteract the stims enough so that she could actually sleep. That alone was risky given how exposed they were, but the greater risk was having her on the bridge in command without her full faculties. She was already having trouble focusing and her brain seemed to be wrapped in a fog. If she could manage five or six hours of sleep after a full meal it would help tremendously.

She ate with machine-like efficiency, hardly tasting her food, and was lying in her rack, boots still on, within twenty minutes of leaving the bridge. As the sedatives began to gently coax her mind down from the artificial high of the stims and she felt her body relax, she was still dwelling on the tactical situation further down in the system. Admiral Wilton had already committed to the plan, but she felt like there was something more at play that they were missing. Moments later her brain finally unclenched from around that thought and she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

****

Celesta woke with a start, a momentary pang of panic hitting her as she looked around the dark room. But soon the usual hums and pops of her ship underway reached her ears and she heard no alarms so she forced herself to relax, looking at the glowing clock on the far wall. She’d actually managed to sleep for six and a half hours and felt fully charged and ready to go. Gauging that she had about twenty minutes before she needed to get up to the bridge, she pulled a clean uniform from a wall locker and went to her personal head to shower.

Once showered and changed, she took a moment to log into the terminal at the desk in her quarters to check the Icarus’s vitals before leaving. She made a mental note to talk to her steward as she ran her hand across the top of the terminal monitor and came back with a healthy layer of dust mixed with the grime that was ever-present on a starship. It was all the aerosolized fine lubricants and coolants that worked their way through the air exchange ducts and were even deposited all the way up in officer country.