Chapter One
Prologue

CASTLE: Wait, what? You applied to go to Mars? Without me? When?
BECKETT : Well, we were fighting.
Season 7 episode 18 "The Wrong Stuff"

In the empty depths of space, nine quiet dreamers slept, their bodies reduced in both temperature and consciousness to the long cold sleep required for deep space transit aboard the deep space cargo vessel USCSS Nostromo.

But for one of their number, these were not professional dreamers. Professional dreamers are highly paid, respected, much sought-after talents. Only Richard Castle could truly lay claim to that title. Like the majority of us, seven of these eight simply dreamed away without effort or discipline.

Dreaming professionally like Castle did - so that one's imaginings can be recorded and shared for the entertainment of others - is a much more demanding proposition than most people are aware of. It requires the ability to regulate one's semi-conscious creative impulses and organize said imaginations into a form others can relate to, which few outside of their craft recognize as an extraordinarily difficult skill to master. A professional dreamer - in Castle's case, a writer - is simultaneously the most organized of all artists and conversely the most spontaneous, a subtle weaver of thought, spoken word, action and emotion - not straightforward and clumsy like most people, including his seven fellow sleepers.

Of all, but her husband, Warrant Officer Kate Beckett came the closest to possessing that special potential. She possessed a higher flexibility of imagination compared to their other companions. Coupled with a quick, analytic mind, said traits had served her well as an NYPD homicide detective once upon a time, even before her husband had crashed headlong into her life and began the six-year long, tumultuous dance that had culminated with their wedding day.

Without some form of gainful employment, Kate had felt cut off from the world since the 12th precinct had been subsumed into three neighboring ones after New York's redistricting, coupled not long thereafter by her failed attempt at state politics (little knowing her failure had not been her own, but the result of corrupt political back door scheming). She had always felt that she lacked the true creative spark of inspiration and expression of thought characteristic of a writer like Richard Castle, or a stage actress like his mother, in spite of his constant reassurance to the contrary over the years.

Her work life and self-imposed discipline now revolved around organizing stores and cargo then checking them against a manifest on what seemed an infinite repeat. A life wholly unsuited to either her talents or those of her husband who had steadfastly refused to leave her side and had worked tirelessly to obtain the necessary credentials to accompany her into deep space now that his daughter was fully grown.

Kate Beckett's self-control slipped away when she slept the deep sleep, however. A little more effort along with a greater intensity of self-recognition and she would have made an impressive professional dreamer - or so her husband often told her. In her subconscious during hyper-sleep, however, was where Kate lost her way. Insecurities, fears, darker speculations and emotions slipped haphazardly from compartment to compartment in her mind's eye, ones she had long thought she had put to rest... not the least of which was an oppressive sense of guilt for dragging her husband into the black on this "adventure" as he'd called it when he'd signed up with her.

Captain Elise Kim was the most organized of the ship's crew, even in her dream state. It wasn't that she lacked imagination, but in her heart she was the most practical of dreamers. She was the Captain of the Nostromo and had little ambition for anything loftier than her current role. She was exactly where she wanted to be, which made her dreams far too dull and uninteresting to any not in or aspiring to her profession.

First Officer Tom Richwood was far less disciplined in both thought and deed than his captain and possessed of even less imagination. His dreams were no exception and tended to be rather sexist and pornographic in nature. He was a competent executive officer as far as his duties were concerned, but -unbeknownst to him - his career had peaked and he would never command a ship of his own. He simply lacked the drive, ambition and personal discipline such a position required.

His case was not helped along by his penchant for inappropriate behavior with female coworkers. He was never blatant enough about it to be caught, but no female on the crew short of the Captain was safe from his wandering eye. Not even Kate had been out of bounds for him, even with her husband's inescapable presence on board. No female ever crewed with him more than twice before requesting a transfer, though only a scant few had bothered to file formal grievances - not enough to cost him his job, but enough to guarantee he would never advance further.

Richwood slept, blissfully unaware that a new complaint awaited him back home, filed by Beckett, Katherine H, ID# 759/L2-01N, and corroborated by Castle, Richard E, ID# 121/C2/01C, nor was he aware that this would be his last cruise aboard USCSS Nostromo. His next stop was the loading docks on Mars station if he was fortunate enough to remain employed at all.

Chief Engineer Mikhail Banhov's dreams were neither as colorful as Castle's, as pornographic as Richwoods', or even as pastoral as Captain Kim's. His mind was far too compartmentalized and specialized for such human-centric things to take shape in his subconscious. Which was not considered unusual for a ship's engineer of his skill level. His darker imaginings, however were less subtle and a lot more ugly.

Most of the spite and contempt fermenting in the darker recesses of his mind was kept well hidden from those he interacted with on a regular basis. His shipmates rarely ever saw beyond the image Banhov projected outwardly, allowing no one a glimpse of the darkness and simmering anger brewing deep within his psyche. In wakefulness his deeply buried impulses rarely materialized, unless he became irritated or angry. Though, even then, most people rarely saw the true darkness that festered like a sickness within him.

Ship's Navigator, Angela Olivera was more more likely to be an inspiration for the dreams and fantasies of the men - and some of the women - she has served with over the years than as a dreamer in her own right. She had modeled swimwear to put herself through MIT then dropped out of the life as soon as she had received her first deep space posting upon graduation. She now made more money than everyone else on the ship, combined (Castle excluded).

In hyper-sleep, Olivera's subconscious mind was filled with the ebb and flow of mathematical linear equations for inter-system course plots, thrust vectors -both atmospheric and vacuum- and load factors canceled out by fuel considerations. Occasionally her baser imagination toyed with more pastoral pursuits - generally involving Nostromo's captain, blanket and not much else - but her dreams never flowed forth in a fashion fit to stir the heartstrings of others.

Banhov and Granger often imagined their own paths crossing with hers in a manner that would have infuriated Olivera had she been aware of their desires. Unlike Richwood, however, they wisely confined such unauthorized musings securely to the realm of daydreams, night dreams and hyper-sleep where such inappropriate imaginings belonged. They were well aware that, as Nostromo's navigator, Olivera was primarily responsible for returning them safely home to collect their pay which was the most attractive outcome that anyone on board could imagine. This simple fact made her the most important person on the ship and only Tom Richwood was foolish enough to even consider upsetting that particular apple-cart.

Engineering Technician Second Class Clint Granger - though listed on the ship's roster as a mere technician - was every bit as intelligent and competent an engineer as Banhov, lacking only in seniority. The two men formed an odd pair, completely different in both temperament and personality, yet they functioned together as smoothly as a well-oiled machine - largely due to the fact that Granger was as easygoing and laconic as Banhov was bitter and potentially volatile and completely lacked any ambition to compete for Banhov's position.

Banhov could rant for hours over any number of topics that pissed him off - his favorite being the state of his and Granger's contracts - to which Granger would merely reply, 'right' without further comment. His total lack of passion or vitriol seemed to balance Banhov out. Having such a man to vent his troubles to without judgment helped keep his darker impulses in check to the point where he considered his erstwhile partner in crime and unofficial shrink to be a package deal with him. No other tech wanted to work with Banhov anyway. Captain Kim only put up with his crap because he was the best engineer in the business.

Next there was Ash, the Nostromo's science officer. His dreams were hands down the most linear and organized of anyone on board and the nearest to matching his awakened self. They held neither delusion nor imagination, a concept that would not have surprised anyone who knew his true self - which none of the other crew members did. If asked, Ash would have gladly explained why he would never dream professionally like Castle, but none ever did, in spite the fact that the science officer clearly found discussing such things more fascinating than any of them.

Last, but not least was the cat. Charlie was in every way an ordinary house cat, or in his case, ship cat. A large yellow, seven toed tom of independent bearing and friendly disposition, he was long accustomed to the vagaries of ship travel and the idiosyncrasies of the humans who called USCSS Nostromo home. Like everyone else aboard, he slept the cold sleep, his mind filled with simple cat dreams of warm, dark places, somebody to scratch him behind the ears the way he liked and gravity-bound birds and mice.

Though certainly none of them but Castle would ever be described as a professional dreamer, all of them had more time to dream in the course of their work than most other people who hailed from planet Earth, despite the slowing of their dream pace by the cold sleep. A deep-space crew has little to occupy themselves in the freezers but to sleep and perchance to dream. Though all but one of them were amateurs, they all had, over time become very competent ones.

As the Nostromo followed its course through deep space on its way back to the Sol system with the refinery it towed, its nine quiet dreamers slept on, little knowing or imagining they were on a collision course with a nightmare.

**Author's note** Welcome to my official entry for the 2015 Castle hiatus summer ficathon. I know many of you are asking "Where is Ryan and Esposito? Where is Lanie? Where are Martha and Alexis and Captain Gates?" Feel free to ask me and I shall try not to roll my eyes when I answer... promise! :-)