Time to Sleep

Posted on Wed Jul 1st, 2026 @ 4:46am by Lieutenant Commander Steve Ryan
Edited on on Wed Jul 1st, 2026 @ 7:12am

338 words; about a 2 minute read

Mission: Children of the Stars
Location: Observation Deck

Some officers led with rank. Others led with presence.

Commander Steve Ryan, executive officer of the USS Montana, had become the kind of officer crews remembered long after the mission logs were archived. Calm under pressure, relentless when duty called, and grounded enough to understand that leadership began with listening, Ryan represented the best of Starfleet ideals.

Still... the paperwork that duty generated could test the patience of a Vulcan monk.

Ryan sat alone in the Montana’s dimly lit observation lounge, a cold cup of tea forgotten beside a padd overflowing with maintenance requests, personnel evaluations, cargo transfer disputes, and one deeply passionate complaint from Lieutenant Barrios regarding what he described as “the criminal misuse of replicated enchiladas.”

The soft hum of the ship’s warp core vibrated faintly through the deck plating beneath his boots. Familiar. Almost comforting.

Outside the wide viewport, the endless void of space calmed him. Beautiful. Silent. Peaceful.

Inside the ship, chaos.

“Computer,” Ryan muttered, rubbing tired eyes, “how many unread reports remain?”

“Three hundred and twelve.”

He leaned back slowly and stared at the ceiling for a long moment.

“Computer, delete ship.”

“Command not recognized.”

“Worth a shot,” he replied with a weary smile.

For a few precious seconds, silence returned.

Then came the sharp chirp of his combadge.

Ryan tapped it instinctively. “Go ahead.”

“Steve, you may want to sleep an hour or two before your shift.”

The voice of Deb carried its usual mix of warmth and disapproval through the communicator.

Ryan instinctively checked the ship’s time.

0300 hours.

He was due on the bridge at 0600.

How could time disappear that fast?

He exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as the exhaustion finally caught up with him.

“I’m coming,” he answered tiredly.

A brief pause.

“…thanks.”

Outside the viewport, the stars continued drifting silently past, indifferent to fatigue, duty, or unfinished reports.

But for tonight, at least, Commander Steve Ryan decided the paperwork could survive without him.


Lt. Cmdr. Steve Ryan
XO: USS Montana

 

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