Obligatory Disclaimer: Paramount owns everyone except Ensign Letone, Carla and Yvette. They are a product of my imagination.

STAYING IN BED

There's no way I'm getting out of bed today. Not after what happened yesterday. Too many witnesses to my stupidity. I'll just crawl deeper under the blankets, stick my head under my pillow, and wish that I could go back in time. Some people would like the floor to swallow them, but I thought about that yesterday (while I felt the eyes of the entire world looking at me) and decided that time travel would be preferrable. It could be painful to be swallowed by a cold, hard floor. I had plenty of time to think of that while I looked at said floor.

I really did consider getting out of bed. Mentally I got up and went through the motions of life. Things went fine as long as I was alone, then my mental life went into a tailspin. I put the pillow over my head and resolved that I would stay in bed all day. Maybe I'll get up and eat the chocolate bar I stashed in the back of my closet. Maybe.

My blanket has much more detail to it than I'd ever taken the time to notice before. It's not just a piece of cloth that I toss over myself at night, it's a carefully woven work of art, thousands of treads interwoven, each thread made up of several twisted strands. Alone these pieces would be insignificant, but twisted and then woven, they form a warm blanket, leaving only the texture and pattern to tell of how they used to be.

That's it, I need the day off to appreciate my blanket. I'm sure that nobody could possibly have any objections to blanket appreciation.

I like to be reliable and miss showing up for duty only when I am at death's door, or I am forced by a doctor. Since I want to keep this reputation, I forced myself to go through my mental jouney again. I actually got all the way to Engineering this time. I joked about my mistake with the other girls, especially Carla and Yvette.

Then he came in, and I decided that someone had to be the first person on Enterprise to request a "practical demotion"-that is, a move from the morning shift to the night shift. It might as well be me. After what I did, I'm sure Commander Tucker will approve eagerly.

I see his gorgeous face in front of me, and then it contorts in pain like it did yesterday. My lip is sore from where I bit my lip punishing myself yesterday, and it takes discipline not to reopen the wound.

Fate must love plotting against me. Why him? Of all the men on Enterprise, it had to be Commander Tucker, who happens to be not only my direct superior but the best-looking man on the ship. Half the women on the ship would follow him to his cabin and beg to have his children.

Now he'll be lucky if he can pass those gorgeous genes on.

Why did I have to be showing off just when he walked by? Why did my showing off have to include broad, swift arm movements? Why, oh why did I have to send my fist smashing between the Chief Engineer's legs?

Maybe I should just ask to be left behind with the next friendly species we come across. Then again, that might be a little bit drastic. Working a different shift would probably solve most of my problems.

OK, I'll just ask Captain Archer politely if I can change shifts, and then hopefully we can pretend that I never assaulted the Chief Engineer.

"Engineering to Ensign Letone." He is contacting me! Could he have charges filed against me? Is he just going to tell me that I will spend the rest of the mission scrubbing plasma conduits?

I'm sitting straight up in bed. "Letone here."

"We expected ya in Engineerin' five minutes ago, Ensign. Are you comin', or should I ask the Doc to go see ya?"

Commander Tucker doesn't sound angry. He certainly doesn't sound like a man who is going to have me scrub plasma conduits for the next four years.

"I…overslept. I'll be there in five minutes."

"Don't let this happen again."

Does he mean the fist-smashing or the tardiness? "It won't, sir."

"Good."

Waves of relief are washing over me. My career in Starfleet isn't going to end today. I can still work my regular shift. And I'm not going to spend the next four years scrubbing plasma conduits!

"One more thing, Ensign. The plasma conduits need cleanin'."