<div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/66/YMR.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Alex Macauley, Tactical Officer</strong><br/><br/>The sound-powered battle phone next to Macauley's bunk whirred, pulling him out of a deep, dreamless sleep.  He reached over and pulled the receiver into his rack, muttering, "Macauley" without bothering to sound cheerful.  A tactical exercise and two hours' sleep had a way of doing that to a man.<br/><br/>"Captain wants to see you in his stateroom, LT."  Macauley grunted and hung the phone up, lying back for a minute before resignedly swinging his legs out of the lower bunk in the stateroom he shared with another of<em>Triton</em>'s junior officers.  Great.  He'd been on watch for six, working for twelve, and sleeping for two and now the Hawk wanted him, probably to bitch about the exercise results.  He'd wanted this, but just at the moment Lieutenant Macauley couldn't for the life of him remember why.<br/><br/>A few minutes later, dressed in his least-wrinkled jumpsuit Macauley knocked on the Captain's door.  When it opened he looked inside...<br/><br/>...and blinked.<br/><br/>Blinked again.<br/><br/>What.<br/><br/>The.<br/><br/>Fuck.<br/><br/>After a moment, he managed to speak.  Instead of reporting, all he could get out was,<br/><br/>"Excuse me, Captain.  Request permission to see the Pharmacists' Mate.  I believe I may have begun hallucinating."