(no subject)

Gaeta's shift ends that night -- well, morning -- at 0300. Most of it was spent recalculating their route to the Ionian Nebula to see if some of the jumps could be shaved off; the rest of the time, he plotted rough sketches of the jumps, interrupted only once by a Condition One alert.

Remarkably slow, as far as shifts go.

He splashes cold water on his face and brushes his teeth, then returns to the officer's racks. Nearly everyone else is asleep; Gaeta nods hello and murmurs pleasantries to the one officer still awake, who's playing an elaborate game of solitaire on the center table. Shrugging off his uniform, he plants one bare foot on the bottom rung, then pauses.

And pulls it back, and turns toward Louis' rack instead.