Confidence in Night (Otherwise Untitled)
#131 of Short Stories
A Synth wakes up to recall some things said.
~ The Synth's facial display, with little fanfare, toggled from entirely blank to single points of light for each eye as she woke up in the middle of the night. The faintest pinpricks of expression glowing out into her otherwise empty quarters from atop her bunk did little to reflect the abrupt encroachment of panic into her previously asleep mood.
~ She rolled onto her side, tugging at the fabric's edge to correct some shortcomings in the placement of her blanket, to gaze down to the alarm clock. It would be another three hours before the alarm would deign to wake her up.
~ An admonishment as much for herself as for the alarm clock to which she directed it, "The quartermaster at the port was wrong."
~ Burying her face into the pillow, to conceal any reflections of her expression from even her own gaze, "The captain says I'm part of the crew.", muffledly contrite against her doubts.
~ As it did when she was younger, the furthermost portions of her tail curled around an ankle, "And the captain wouldn't lie to a member of his crew.", anxiously squeezing of her own ankle, "..or even a piece of equipment, if he was so inclined to converse with one aboard his ship."
~ The quarters hung a dull echo of silence as the alarm clock obliged a lack of ticking, and the Synth waited to fall back to sleep. Her eyes bright pinpoints cast directly into the pillow.