Sleep never came to me. Eventually I pushed myself into a sitting position and allowed my eyes to focus. The light from my digital bedside clock seemed unnaturally harsh and I squinted as I read the time. It was very early in the morning, which would explain the cold grey half-light seeping through the gap in my blinds. My neck was very stiff and my sides ached, I stretched my arms above my head and arched my spine. It was only when my hands bumped my helmet that I realised that I'd, stupidly, tried sleeping in my armour. I rubbed my eyes wearily.
'Another bad start to another day.' I told myself, rather pathetically, as I undressed.
My reflection in the cabinet mirror was grim. My short white hair clung to my head and there were tired lines around my eyes. The whites of my eyes were splattered with deep pink veins that seemed to pulse in time with my developing headache. I shook my head at myself until my hands were clenched fists and I'd riled myself into the closest thing to self-worth I could manage at that moment.
'Enough moping.' The self-pitying Martian Commander in the mirror straightened his back and puffed out his chest. Somewhat satisfied with his efforts I nodded my head and marched away to shower. The hot water soothed away all my aches, both physical and emotional and I felt a completely different Martian when I finally stepped out into the palace corridor that morning.
I headed towards the kitchens, craving that wonderful Earth invention; ice cream. The freezers were well-stocked ever since Dodgers arrived, in fact, I don't think I ever saw him eat anything other than junk food. By the time I arrived I had convinced myself that cereal was a more befitting breakfast of a Martian Commander.
The corn flakes turned to bland mush in my mouth and I bitterly regretted my decision but was too proud to change it once made. There were too many people in the kitchens this morning, too many witnesses. It appeared that Head chef was busier and bossier than ever, the kitchen staff scurried about with practised accuracy and speed. It didn't occur to me until I was almost finished with my breakfast that I had no idea what the commotion was all about.
'Excuse me? Chef?' he appeared to be having difficulty hearing me over his own bellowing. 'I said, excuse me!'
'What?' was his immediate agitated response. Upon recognising me he had the sense to look abashed but his reply was, nonetheless, frantic, 'Sorry Commander; didn't expect to see you down here this early. How can I help?'
'What is going on here?' I ignored his apology and gave the large Martian my undivided attention, 'What's all this hubbub for?'
'Why, for the feast to welcome Commander X1 home of course!' the Chef's face betrayed his confused impatience. When I did and said nothing more than to gape wide-eyed, he turned back to his duties with renewed enthusiasm.
Commander X1 was returning to Mars. Well, that about sealed my fate. I was of no use to my Queen as it was, let alone with her sister and first commander back in court.