The Gaping Maw

Posted on Wed Oct 23rd, 2019 @ 3:32pm by Lieutenant JG Mattias Constantine
Edited on on Wed Oct 23rd, 2019 @ 6:39pm

Mission: Mission 2 - Fallout
Location: Officers' Quarters, Deck D
Timeline: Day 2, Month 1, Year 0
589 words - 1.2 OF Standard Post Measure

The lights in Ensign Constantine's quarters began to brighten in a facsimile of the Terran sunrise. He was still fast asleep facing the wall, recovering from the mental stress and fatigue of the previous day's events. Lighting was the first of three stages programmed into his alarm. Sound, followed by a haptic motor built into the frame of his bed joined forces to ensure that the ship's junior communications officer would wake each and every day.

"Alright, alright, I get it."

With a grumble, Constantine sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes and slowly began to wake up. He was fortunate enough to have a bunk with a small viewport. Outside, the ubiquitous nebula cast a soft, purple light into the room. He was better acquainted with the nebula than most, having listened to the white noise generated by the gas cloud for hours on end the day before.

His feet met the deck plating with a soft thud. Walking over to his desk, Constantine spotted the photo of his sister Natalie and him on the shelf by the foot of his bed. It was taken a few days before the Atlantis had launched on her mission. A pang of wistfulness woke him further still, somehow more effectively than any alarm could ever hope to be.

Plopping himself into a chair, a blinking blue light on his PADD brought his attention to an awaiting notification. In a similar fashion, a low rumble sounded from his stomach, notifying him that it had been over twelve hours since he had last eaten. Shaking the feeling off, he brought the screen on the PADD to life and read through the notice.

"Emergency rationing? Dammit."

In between listening for any other ships in the nebula and acclimating himself the the equipment on the Atlantis, Mattias had begun to consider the reality of being stranded far from home during his last shift on the bridge. The emotional toll was immediately obvious to him. Morale on the ship was fragile. Most of the crew he had interacted with were trying to paint the situation in a positive light, but Constantine couldn't help but feel that another major setback would seriously test the thin lacquer of positivity. This notice might be just that setback.

Slamming his desk with the bottom of a clenched fist, Constantine covered his face with his hands and took a few deep breaths. As he sat there, elbows on his desk, the reality of the situation began to crash down all around him. The truth was that it was now going to be a battle for survival. Sitting in this quarters, Mattias vowed to never allow himself to be seen with more rations than another crewmember, despite his increased caloric needs due to his size and metabolism. His stomach would have to be a slave to his brain.

"Oh Nat," he peaked through his fingers at the photograph again, "when I get home, we're going to go on an epic bender and eat as many carbs as we can. But keep us in your thoughts. I have faith. We will make it through this."

He sat upright and slid the drawer to his desk open, retrieving his journal inside. If they were going to make it, he was going to want a way to remember the journey. Mattias began to write, his stomach still sounding off in protest.

Day Two. Hunger is going to be a old friend by the time we're through here...



Ensign Mattias Constantine
Communications Officer
NX Atlantis