2545 – May 20th. In Earth orbit.
The buzzer’s piercing trill jolted him awake. Instinct made him instantly reach for the loaded and racked M6C/SOCOM laying unholstered on the stand by the side of the bed. Lieutenant Pete O’Grady realized that his finger was already putting micropressure on the trigger and he backed off, exhaling as he realized that he was awake and no longer dreaming about the annoying sound to his left. He squinted in the dark room by the light of the datapad and checked his sidearm, relieved that the safety was still on. Sitting upright, rubbing a hand over his face in an attempt to snap out of the crap that passed for sleep these days, he grabbed for his buzzing datapad and touched the screen to stop the incessant noise. 3.5 hours of sleep. That’s what the chrono on the pad indicated. 0415 ship time. What the fuck, he thought. That was supposed to be an eight hour rack. He tapped the pad to bring up the menu and figure out why it woke him up.