Anima Andromeda | 500 miles
This whole day was damned from its very beginning! Yesterday Spock canceled one of their periodic meetings, in the night the brunette could merely sleep for four hours. No need to say how hard the morning after was, still tired as hell and dozens of thoughts, laying heavy on her mind. How was this supposed to end well?
Surprisingly grumpy for such a cheerful person, Amelia stared on the report she had to finish, trying to form appropriate words to describe her current research on some old artifacts another officer dropped on her desk the other day. It was ancient, collected from a planet the Enterprisecrew visited three days ago and seemed to serve as some kind of token for a deceased person. The culture had a proper complex religion, a lot of photos were sent to the anthropologists PADD, showing different paintings in a cave near the provenance. Oh how Amelia wished she had had the opportunity to join the mission, to visit the surface on her own and not only read about what Mika experienced. Sometimes it was frustrating, but since the woman was quite new to the crew the captain had probably his problems in trusting her and her abilities completely and.. my god! It WAS frustrating AS HELL.
Amelia pushed her PADD away and let out a deep sigh. It was already late, given to the fact that most of the science staff was already out to enjoy some freetime. How couldn’t they recognize how hard she was working, how willing and dedicated the brunette was to what she did? Slowly standing up from her chair, the woman walked out of her office, her hand fiddling in the long brown hair, trying to fix her hairdo again and avoid looking like bush. She needed coffee or any attempt in going on with that damn report was in vain! This had to be done, this had to be good. Amelia was an academic, she was good and she needed to be taken seriously!
Already dark rings under her fawn eyes, the human pushed some buttons on the machine who was a true live preserver, her dearest friend amongst Carol and the only reason she managed it to stay up that late without dozing off. “ Come on.. ” , she muttered slightly impatient, when instead of a hot baverage only a noisy peeping left the devilish thing. “ Hello!? What’s wrong? DO SOMETHING! PLEASE? ” Another try. Nothing. Really?! Was this another bad joke? The brunette hissed, her bad mood in danger to take over. “ Bath'paik ! ”, she started, switching into Vulcan again. It was a steady habit Amelia couldn’t fight, a reflex of her mind during stressful or very emotional situations. THIS WAS EMOTIONAL BECAUSE THERE WAS NO COFFEE DAMN IT! “ Tresahk-tor! ” How could the brunette even survive this?