The Sands of Time (A Star Trek: The Next Generation Fan Fiction)

Chapter Two

I awoke with a jerk, my body entangled in the blanket that covered my bed. Struggling free, I sat up against the wall and wiped sweat from my face. Disentangling my legs, I quickly slid my feet onto the floor. I sat for a minute, gripping the edge of the bed with tightened fingers, staring out into the blackness as I calmed my breathing.

After a few minutes, I relaxed and stood, pacing the door room a few times. Finally, I returned to bed, straightening the blanket before lying down. Even then, I couldn't sleep. I'd used to be plagued by nightmares, years ago, but they'd disappeared long ago, except for a brief period just six months ago. I'd thought I was free of them.

Morning came faster than I thought it would, so I must have fallen asleep again. Dawn was still a few hours off, but business on Karos VII started before the dawn. It had to on a world where the day lasted only ten hours. Most stores in the spaceport itself were open twenty hours a day, catering to the ships which came at all hours. Spacefarers didn't know what time it was on the planet below and most of the time they didn't care, just as long as someone was awake.

I leisurely ate a cold breakfast straight from the refrigeration unit and relaxed on the couch. I didn't have to be at work until 0700, which was about three hours away. I had second shift today, which meant I'd work from 0700-1400. I'd worked the same shift the day before but whoever scheduled us switched it up sometimes, mostly so everyone could have come time off during the day. When daylight lasted only ten hours, and most species were used to longer days, it was coveted.

I didn't have a window to look out of, but the display next to the door informed me that it was almost 0500, almost dawn. Setting my dirty bowl in the sink, I dressed and left my apartment, locking the door behind me. The street outside was still dark but the eastern sky was turning from a deep crimson to a lighter red. There weren't many people in the street as first shift was in process and second didn't start for another two hours. It was their loss. Finding an empty spot between two warehouses, I stood watching for a few minutes as the sun started to rise over the sand dunes and stray buildings. Living in the outskirts of the third-circle was worth it on mornings like this one.

After a few more minutes, I turned my back to the sun and started into the heart of the city. The road was pavement but wind during the night had blown sand in from the desert, covering everything with a fine level of grit. Everything here was covered in the dust, from the streets to the buildings to our clothing, eventually. The dust was the hardest thing for me to adjust to when I'd first arrived here on Karos VII, more so than the shortened days and strange alien species. I was getting used to it, though, along with everything else. For ten years I'd moved constantly, adapting to new locations every few days. I knew how to adapt.

I made it into the inner circle in half an hour. By that time, the sun had risen and more people were out, leaving their quarters for the markets and stores. I followed the crowd to a line of shops on the street.

"Hey, Horatio," I told the man as he handed me a bag of real food, not the reconstituted rations I had been eating. "Thanks."

"Sure thing, Tasha," Horatio said. He patted my hand with his blue, webbed one. "I put in some of your favourite tea, too."

I shifted the bag to my hip and smiled at Horatio. He'd been one of the first people I'd met after I had landed on Karos VII, when I was still wandering around trying to find a place to live. Horatio had recommended the warehouse where I was currently staying and, from that point on, had consistently looked out for me. By selling me a delicious herbal tea, he'd earned by undying devotion.

"So what do you think?" I asked him. "Any chance of rain?" It rained on Karos VII maybe once or twice a month, when the winds came in from the planet's single ocean. The timing was sporadic but Horatio could always tell when the water was coming. His species came from a word of water, most living under it their entire lives.