Ellie awoke the next morning by simply opening her eyes. For several minutes it was the only part of her body that she moved. Above her, the soft panel lights were entering their morning cycle, adding blue wavelengths to the light spectrum to trigger a circadian response.
Beneath her head, in two spots below her ears, the pillow was still damp.
Ellie inhaled slowly over twenty seconds. She held it, blinked, accepted her new life, and let it out just as slow.
She had always been an optimist. Today she had to be a realist.
Fifteen minutes later she was dressed in her new uniform. It had been delivered the night before, along with a new duty roster and formal documentation of her hearing and judgement. Cadet Eleanor Young no longer had a place on the Paris. Until their rotation was over, she was simply Ellie Young, crewman.
Calling it a uniform was a stretch. The cadet flight suits were not tailored, but they had fitted well, and she remembered thinking with just a little pride, that she looked good in one. She felt the part when dressed in that outfit.
The janitorial outfit was merely a grey jumpsuit and some protective overalls. A pair of rubber gloves had helpfully been included too. She stuffed the gloves into one pocket, fingers first. Her new datapad slid into the other pocket. Ellie tightened her ponytail and opened the door.
Two cadets hurried past from left to right, eager to start their day. She had always turned right too. To the right of her door was the mess hall, the classrooms, the simulators. All the things she was there for.
Ellie pulled the datapad from her pocket. She knew where to go. She simply wanted something to hold.
Today she turned left.
The datapad guided her to the back half of the Paris. These were areas of the ship she had never seen. She had never paid attention. She never had the need.
Eventually, Ellie found herself at the home of ship's central service area on deck four. The command citadel was three decks below, in the heart of the ship on deck seven, and the engine room four decks below and another two hundred and fifty metres to the stern.
The door opened to admit her, and Ellie entered a room of ordered chaos which returned her to the Juggernaut.
Metal shelving lined the wall on her left from top to bottom. Each shelf was labelled and coded, and held bins filled with spare parts for a hundred different systems. Electrical components, light panels, plumbing supplies, wire, circuit boards, chips and dozens of others were stored here. Some were entirely mundane - she recognised the contents of one bin as spare wheels for her chair. Another contained square white cloths. Yet another, empty spray bottles. It reminded her of Malachi's workshop, or the New Haven stores. Endless collections of material and supplies which would eventually serve an important purpose. It might be needed tomorrow, or weeks from now but sooner or later you would need something, and this is where you would come to find it.
The biggest difference aboard the Paris was, of course, that everything here was new. This room was filled with the results of hundreds of requisition orders, of careful planning, of needs that were anticipated and prepared for. New Haven's stores and supplies were found, salvaged, scavenged and repaired.
Another major difference between New Haven and the Paris were the refuse bins. Here, items that had served their purpose were discarded. Some would be recycled or if possible, broken down into their component parts to be reused and repaired. Others would be compacted into refuse cubes and fired into the sun when they were no longer needed. That was the essential difference. The citizens of the Juggernaut couldn't afford to throw anything away. Everything filled a role. Everything had a need. Everything had a purpose. There were no requisition forms at home.
In the middle of the room was a desk with a terminal and screens to one side. A stack of datapads arranged in two piles butted up against the screen. The remainder of the desk was bare.
The chair behind the desk was empty, but two men in uniform were approaching. One was removing a pair of gloves. The other carried a wire basket. Judging by how the man carried it, it was filled with something heavy.
Ellie waited patiently. When the men reached the desk, the basket was dropped onto the desk with a crash of metal parts.
The men exchanged words, then the one carrying the basket left. The man with the gloves sat down, threw the gloves into the basket, and beckoned Ellie forward.
"Crewman Young? I'm Senior Chief Petty Officer Ames. You'll be reporting to me for the next four weeks until your rotation is up."
Ellie nodded. "I've been sent here to... I mean, I was, I'm supposed to be..."
"I understand, Young. I read the report."
"I didn't mean to," she added quietly.
"Crewman, listen to me."
Ellie straightened up and tried to look him in the eye.
"It doesn't matter what you meant to do. What matters is what actually happened. Life deals the cards but you decide how to play the hand. You don't always get second chances. Not everyone gets to walk away when things go wrong. In your case they did. Be grateful for that. A lesson you can't learn from is no lesson at all. You understand me, crewman?"
"I think so."
"I'm an officer, crewman. I earned my rank."
"I think so, sir."
Ames reached out a hand. "Give me your datapad."
Ellie handed it over and stood there awkwardly playing with her fingers while Ames tapped in commands and finished with a thumbprint and retinal scan. The datapad chirped happily, and he gave it back.
"You've been granted elevated privileges in line with your new role. You'll have access to supply and janitorial stores on every deck except for restricted areas such as the bridge, engine room, and so on. We'll begin with a standard cleaning rota for you, but as the ship is running on a limited crew right now we've closed off some areas of the ship so there is less cleaning to be done. I'll supplement your assigned cleaning hours with maintenance duties. There's always something to do on a ship. You won't be bored."
"Thank you, sir," said Ellie. In truth, she was grateful. She understood that her cleaning duties would be undertaken alone. Maintenance meant she would have someone to listen to. She didn't feel like talking.
"You can start with this basket." Ames picked up the gloves, put the datapad on top, gave them both to her. "We're swapping out the swing check valves on deck two but we need to check the replacements for micro fractures before installation. Take this basket to the eval station along the corridor. The CPO there will walk you through the process. Do you have any questions?"
Ellie looked at the basket full of brass fittings and sighed inwardly.
"No sir." She pulled the heavy basket across the desk and staggered back to the door.
"Crewman," said Ames.
Ellie waddled to a stop and turned around. "Yes sir?"
"You've been dealt a new hand, crewman. How you play it is up to you."