Sleepless
Posted on Thu Jun 5th, 2025 @ 10:37pm by Lieutenant Junior Grade Jordan Spencer & Lieutenant Junior Grade Zhara Rynn
Edited on on Sat Jun 7th, 2025 @ 10:38pm
1,740 words; about a 9 minute read
Mission:
Episode 16 - Silent Cries
Location: Sickbay - Deck 5 - USS Pioneer
Timeline: MD004 0300 hrs
Zhara walked into sickbay in search of Doctor Spencer. She hadn't slept well the past few nights. She was pretty sure it was due to nightmares, but she couldn't remember anything but a lingering fear. And, since she couldn't do much about the nightmares, she hoped she could get something to help her sleep through the night.
Spencer glanced up from his datapad, boots kicked up on the edge of the nearest biobed like he was on vacation rather than covering the night shift in Sickbay. "Well, well if it isn't the queen of the insomniacs," he drawled, setting the pad down with a dramatic sigh. "What brings you to my humble, fluorescent kingdom at this ungodly hour?"
His eyes swept over her, "Let me guess, can't sleep, brain's on the fritz, and you're hoping for the magic fix?" He spun lazily on his stool. "Tell me everything, Zhara. I live for the drama."
She smiled as she approached him. "Yes. Well, abut not sleeping. I'm having nightmares, but I don't remember them when I wake. They are keeping me from sleeping well. I know there's no magic elixir, but I could use a little help." She raised an eyebrow. "What do you recommend?"
Spencer leaned back slightly, giving her a knowing smirk. "Nightmares, huh? Well, I could recommend the standard boring stuff; relaxation techniques, light meditation, maybe cutting back on the late night coffee. But let's be honest, none of that’s why you’re asking me." He tilted his head, eyes scanning her face. "If it's just sleep you need, I can get you a mild sedative. It is nothing that'll knock you out cold, but enough to smooth the edges. If you’re looking for something a little less pharmaceutical, I hear a good conversation with a charming pilot works wonders." His smirk widened. "Your call."
She raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I've tried the first, but..." Her smile grew impish. "Do you happen to know any charming gentlemen who are up at this hour?"
Spencer smirked, leaning back against the nearest console with an easy confidence. "Charming, huh? Well, I could put in a good word with the night shift, but their conversation’s a little... dry." He let his gaze linger on her for a beat longer than necessary, eyes gleaming with amusement.
"But," he added, his voice dropping just a shade lower, "if you’re desperate, I suppose I could keep you company—purely in the interest of medical science, of course." His smile turned teasing. "Wouldn't want you losing any more beauty sleep. Not that you need it."
He stood up, grabbing a medical tricorder with a practiced ease before patting the surface of a bio-bed. "First things first—let’s take a look under the hood. Purely to document that I do more than just mess around in the computer database, of course." His tone was light, but the glint in his eye betrayed his usual playful edge.
The counselor didn't miss the glint in his eye, or the comment and wondered what caused it. Perhaps a conversation might help them both? but first, she'd make sure her problems were just nightmare-induced. She slid gracefully onto the biobed. "It's been a while since anyone checked to ensure my engine was running."
Spencer arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk as he activated the tricorder. "Well, lucky for you, I’m a certified engine specialist," he quipped, scanning her with smooth efficiency. "Though, from what I’ve seen so far, you’re purring along just fine."
He adjusted the settings, his tone turning slightly more professional—only slightly. "Any headaches? Trouble focusing? Besides the charming company, of course." His dark eyes flicked to hers, curious but not invasive. "Nightmares can stir up all kinds of mischief, but physically, you seem in prime condition."
"Good to know I can still purr," she quipped back. "But seriously, I think it's just a lack of sleep. I didn't get much before my shift tonight. If I could remember the nightmares, I might be able to understand why I'm having them. This is more frustrating."
Spencer tilted his head as he studied the tricorder’s readings. "Lack of sleep can mess with anyone," he thought out loud as his voice carrying a hint of skepticism. "But nightmares that vanish the second you wake up isn't completely surprising. Most people dream and never even know it."
He lowered the tricorder slightly, his gaze settling on her with quiet curiosity. "Anything unusual lately besides the dreams? Stress, strange sensations, unexplained déjà vu?" His tone was light, but there was an edge of professional concern beneath the teasing. "I’m all for blaming bad sleep, but this ship’s had enough weirdness that I’m not ruling anything out."
"That it has." She waved her hand in the air. "I work gamma shift. I tend to miss most of what goes on--until someone needs to talk to me about it. No, I've noticed nothing but the nightmares, and those are only vague recollections and a feeling of unease. Sophia doesn't seem to have noticed anything amiss." She paused. "However, she has taken to sleeping in the living room instead of the bedroom. Once or twice, she's stayed in my office."
Spencer arched a brow, folding his arms as he leaned back slightly. "So, your nightmares are vague, but your cat who, mind you, isn’t prone to sharing her opinions has decided that the bedroom is no longer acceptable real estate?" He let that hang in the air for a moment before shaking his head. "I hate to be the guy who reads too much into things, but that’s suspicious as hell."
He tapped the tricorder idly. "Animals pick up on things we don’t. Could be nothing, but given everything happening on this ship, I’m not dismissing it." His gaze sharpened. "Have you ever woken up feeling…off? More exhausted than when you went to sleep? Anything missing or moved?" His tone was still casual, but there was an unmistakable undercurrent of concern now.
"Sophia is a therapy dog, but your point is valid. I hadn't put her sleeping in another room as anything more than I was too restless for her." She paused to think over his question. "I haven't been sleeping well when I do, and there's a vague sense of...fear? Or maybe just a feeling that something bad is going to happen. I'm not a precog, so it's not that. I put it down to the nightmares."
Spencer tapped his fingers against the tricorder, his expression dry. “Right, because therapy dogs are known for making arbitrary real estate decisions. Look, you might not be a precog, but subconscious instincts are a thing. Maybe your brain’s picking up on something your conscious mind hasn’t caught onto yet.” He shrugged. “Or maybe it’s just nightmares. Either way, I’d rather not wait for a dramatic revelation at an inconvenient moment.”
She ran a hand around the back of her neck. "Neither would I, to be honest. There's a lot of tension on the ship right now. I'm feeling that, too, but this feels...different. I don't know." Then a thought occurred to her. "How are you sleeping?"
Spencer let out a short, dry laugh. “Oh, like a baby, waking up every couple of hours, mildly confused, and occasionally wanting to scream.” He rubbed his temple. “Honestly? I haven’t been dreaming at all, which, given the circumstances, feels like its own kind of bad omen.”
"I don't know if that's any better." She chuckled. "If I could remember the nightmares, I could try and work out what's causing them. Often, once you deal with the underlying issue, the nightmares go away. But I don't think that's the case here as others on the ship seem to be experiencing them as well."
Spencer let out a low whistle. "Well, that’s just fantastic. Shared ship-wide nightmares because nothing says ‘smooth sailing’ like synchronized subconscious horror. I've heard of a reports of that before which usually means... " He shook his head, his tone still laced with dry humor but undercut with something more thoughtful. "... if it’s not just you, that rules out personal stress as the culprit. Guess the real question is, what the hell is messing with everyone’s heads?"
"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised if others are talking about it, but I'm generally asleep during alpha shift. I could ask a few people. I put it down to the elevated stress levels I've been feeling from many of the crew. Nothing specific or focused, just a rise in stress and tension."
Spencer nodded slowly, lips pressing into a thin line. “Yeah, I’ve felt it too. It’s like the whole ship’s holding its breath and no one knows why. Makes you wonder if something’s creeping just under the surface something we haven’t clocked yet.” He paused, glancing toward the sick bay as if expecting it to answer. “Ask around if you can, discreetly. If this is more than just bad dreams and nerves, I’d rather we find out before it turns into a full-blown incident.” He smirked faintly. “Call me old fashioned, but I prefer my horror stories with a clear antagonist.”
She nodded slowly. "I will. Something's bound to come out before long. I'll definitely let you know if I hear anything. And I will ask a few discrete questions."
Spencer gave a half-smile, one brow arched. “Discreet questions? Counselor, I’m shocked. That almost sounds like subtlety. Just don’t spook the crew—we’ve already got enough jumpy people looking for ghosts in the bulkheads.” He tapped a PADD against his hand. “But yes, keep me in the loop. I’d rather chase rumors than ignore red flags.”
Zhara smiled mischievously. "Why doctor, didn't you know that subtle is a counselor's middle name?" She stood. "I'm feeling more relaxed. I think I'll try warm milk with honey and a good book. If that doesn't work, I'll be back."
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Junior Grade Zhara Rynn
Counselor, USS Pioneer
Lieutenant Junior Grade Jordan Spencer
Assistant Chief Medical Officer, USS Pioneer
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