Her first thoughts of the day were of soft fleece lined fuzzy slippers ornamented with bunnies and the aroma of hot chocolate wafting in from the kitchen. Little sister, a bed over, nosily snoring away like it was her job and Mama putting together breakfast for them all. The whole remembrance brought a smile to her partially conscious mindfulness. Muster on the deck four flights above was at least an hour away for the girl on the carrier dreaming of a time so long ago. Her room now was a rack with no adjacent sister or hot chocolate peaceful room ambiance; just a roman numerical door designation, her last name, rank and clip board briefing room assignment. Home now was a fog dressed aircraft carrier aimlessly plodding along atop a shale gray sea stretching from horizon to horizon. Images of family come and go a lot at sea but for this airman they quickly are overridden by thoughts of lighted gyroscopes, fuel levels, munitions stores and dissimilar jet fighter avionics defined by graphs and gages. The entire scene was a cacophony of synthesized movement in an opus she could ill afford to miss a note of. Pushing back against the bulkhead with her hands and lifting her legs up and into her chest she felt the cool metal confines of the room and enjoyed the freedom of being out of her flight suit. Lying her legs back down on the bed and relaxing to the clicking of sliding chains four flights above her sleeping quarters she felt a sense of peace overcoming her. Back in hot chocolate word she always had a sense of urgency about her life. Here though, in a world where urgency was often defined in life or death she felt none at all; just peace.