Disclaimer: Star Trek does not belong to me. I am making no profit from this.
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The world spun steadily, as it had for millions of years, circling a nondescript yellow star in a nondescript galaxy, one of thousands like it, one of millions.
Day turned to night, turned to day again, and people lived and people died, just as it had always been and always would be.
Today was no different from the days before it and the days that would follow, except for one girl.
She woke from a deep sleep, shouting at her computer to turn the alarm off, then rolled out of bed.
Today, everything would change.
Today, her life would begin.
--
She checked her padd one last time, reading out her assignment. This was it. One last check to make sure her gold uniform was in place, and she was ready.
"Lieutenant Marisol Evans, reporting for duty," she said in clear, clipped tones. Though her heart was fluttering in her chest, her voice did not waiver. She was a Starfleet officer, and had to act accordingly. This was her dream, to serve on the Enterprise, and she wasn't going to mess it up.
"Welcome aboard, Lieutenant. Ensign Rafe will show you to your quarters, and then you will report to the Bridge for duty at 1800 hours."
--
"Here you are, Lieutenant."
Marisol's sapphire-blue eyes lit up as she scanned her new quarters. They were much bigger than the ones she'd had in the past, on smaller ships and back at the academy, and best of all she didn't have to share them with anyone.
"Thank you, ensign," she said distractedly, enamored with the accommodations. She had her own personal replicator—something she'd never had before—and even her own bathroom and sonic shower. And best of all, her bed was bigger than the one on her last posting.
Hopefully she could get some sleep before she had to go on duty.
"I'll let you get settled, then," Rafe said, and left.
Marisol dropped her bag on the bed before lying down herself and staring at the ceiling. This was her dream, to serve on the Enterprise, and yet…
And yet, she couldn't help feeling an overwhelming sadness, a flood of emotion that she'd tried and failed to keep back since she was little. Her other posts hadn't been long missions, and she'd been able to return to Earth, at least for a little while, twice a year. This time, though, it was going to be much longer.
She closed her eyes. Everything was going to be fine—she had her position, and she had her job, and while it had never been easy for her to make friends, she hoped she could at least find someone who understood.
"Computer, set alarm for 1745," she said, and drifted off to sleep.