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"Lal?"

No response.

"Lal?" Zari said again, sharper this time.

"Hmm? What?" Lal asked, eyes blinking. Snapping back to full awareness.

"I asked you to send out probes to the borderland. To monitor for the N'Kiri fleet." They didn't know when it would come, but they were certain it would. Sometimes.

"I already did," she whispered.

"When?"

"Earlier."

"I didn't ask you earlier. I asked you now."

"I anticipated."

Zari sighed. "Well ... whatever." She nodded, looking up to the tactical sation, which was along the outer ring of the room, which was raised above the middle. "You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You look ... jittery."

"I'm fine."

Zari nodded. Squinting. And then left Lal alone.

Lal closed her eyes and sighed. Her tail twitching.

When she got to her room, after her shift, Lal moved like a zombie for the shower. Disrobing, fumbling in. Turning on the water. She let it pelt her for a while. The water was lukewarm, and she turned it up. Hotter. She let it melt through her fur, run down her body. She let it drop from her whiskers. She spit it out. Water, water everywhere.

Lal leaned back against the wall of the shower. Slowly, she sank down, to a sit. The water rained down on her head. She felt her eyes blur. Whether from the raining water from the shower-head, or from her emotions. She didn't know. She shook her head, drops flying from her whisker-tips.

Lal was the station's mystery. She was enigmatic. A tough cookie. A hard code to break. So she heard the others say. She heard a lot of things ... because she was a very good listener. She heard things she wasn't supposed to hear. She knew what other creatures thought of her. She was uptight, obsessive-compulsive. Cold. She couldn't feel. She had no sense of humor ...

She sniffed, breathing out, hanging her head and looking to the floor of the shower. Looking at her legs and foot-paws. Blinking the water out of her eyes. She allowed a paw to stray between her legs, down and under. She brushed her furry folds. Taking a deep breath through the nose. She opened her legs wider and leaned back. The hot water pelted her. It was almost too hot, but she didn't care. She gingerly rubbed herself.

She was doing this cause she thought it would help. Maybe this, she thought, almost desperate. Maybe this will make me feel. Her paw rubbed and rubbed, moving over her sensitive spots. She let out a little squeak, which was drowned out by the sound of the water. And she blinked.

Unlike most of the other squirrels on the station, Lal had no mate. Had no set partner. She bounced from male to male, and even to a few females. She did it stoically. Satisfying her partners but leaving them nothing to gossip about. Anyway, they knew that if they bragged about having had her, she would deny it. And she had a very good poker face. She was a good liar when she had to be.

None of those squirrels had made her feel. She had wanted them ... to make her feel. She had hoped that they could melt her. That they could reach her. But they hadn't. And she'd been left feeling miserable about herself. She felt dirty. All she wanted ... was to feel. And to be clean. That was all she wanted. Why am I so numb, she asked herself, her paw rubbing harder. She began to finger herself. She wasted no time, and invested in no gentility. She harshly rubbed and fingered herself, rubbing the walls of her inside. Her other paw rubbing her outside. She leaned back and closed her eyes and let the water hit her. While she tried to pleasure herself.

She squeaked silently, in a steady enough rhythm. But she found she would rather remain silent. Her partners would always vocalize. When she didn't ... they would assume she wasn't enjoying herself. Which wasn't necessarily true. Even if they couldn't make her feel, they could give her a shot of primal, instant pleasure. It would fade fast enough, and the memory wouldn't linger, but ... she was stoic. She felt uncomfortable making noises during such activities. Sex was messy enough. It was uncivil enough ... without resorting to making barnyard sounds. The fact that she was addicted to such an activity, it made her obsessive mind reel. It was messy. But she couldn't stay away.

She thrust the fingers of her paw into her opening, trying to hump down on them. Rubbing herself. Her bushy tail, which was matted and wet, rubbed across her breasts and nipples. She focused furiously on her task. Trying not to think about anything else. And when she finally reached her climax, she sighed and leaned back. Closing her eyes. She felt the spasms, felt the pleasure ... like fireworks in her blood. But, soon enough, it began to fade. It was done. Just like that. She wished that it would linger. She wished there was a way, some way, to freeze that kind of physical sensation, to put it in a bottle and open it up and drink it ... whenever it was needed. But there wasn't.

She got to her foot-paws, wobbling a bit. She took a deep breath. And finished her shower.

"What?" Lal asked, stepping into the infirmary. She's been ready to sit down for supper (boiled rice with butter and sugar sprinkled on it) when Doctor Chavar had called her. He said he needed to see her.

"Sit down," he told her.

She did so. On the edge of a medical bed. She shrugged her shoulders. "My supper's getting cold."

"You can reheat it."

"I don't like how it tastes when its reheated."

"Lal," he began.

"Yes?"

He gave her a look. And then sighed. "The captain asked me ... "

"I was fine. I was ... daydreaming, is all."

"You don't daydream."

"How do you know?" she accused, with a whisper. "How does anybody know? Maybe I do. Maybe I dream about things."

"That's not the point," said Chavar, trying to keep the upper paw in the conversation. He could see that Lal was trying to wrest it away from him. She didn't wish to talk.

"What is the point?"

"You were not acting like yourself today. The captain saw it. Ketchy saw it. You've been jittery and distracted the past two days."

She shrugged.

"I treated Ensign Kape for a nasty infection the other day. He said he felt weak, sore. He was twitching more than normal. There's only one way to get that infection," he said, trailing. "I trust I don't have to elaborate on that."

She sighed, rolled her eyes.

The doctor said nothing.

"Do you have a cure?" she finally asked him, in a vulnerable whisper.

"Yes," he whispered back. "You'll be fine by morning. I just have to give you the injection." He fetched what he needed, taking hold of her arm. Injecting her. Pause. "I need to know who else you gave this thing to."

She glared at him.

"Lal," he said simply, not flinching.

She looked to the floor, eyes open and blank. She took in a breath. "Lieutenant Cutler. Ensign Sandy. And Ragweed."

He nodded. "I'll give them their injections, too."

She nodded. "Can I go?"

"No."

"But ... "

"Lal, you're in nine of kinds of pain. I wish you wouldn't deny it."

"I'm not."

"Not denying it?"

"Not in nine kinds of pain."

Chavar sighed. "There's something else. You're looking ... thinner."

"So?"

"I trust you were taught basic biology."

"Of course," she said.

"Well, let me refresh you. We, us squirrels, no longer need to hibernate to survive. But the instinct remains. For three months of every year, our body goes into a weakened form of hibernation mode. This means," he said. "Are you listening?"

"Hmm?" She nodded.

"This means our metabolism speeds up. We need to eat more. We eat more," he said, "And we gain a few pounds. Our fur gets thicker." He looked to her. "Everyone else on the station has gained their weight, and more fur. You," he told her, "Are thinner than you were a month ago, and ... "

"What are you saying?" she asked angrily.

He sighed. "I'm aware," he told her, pacing a bit, moving back and forth, "That you have obsessive-compulsive tendencies."

"I can't help it," she said. Almost desperate. "If I could ... "

"Look, I'm just saying ... stop being so reckless, huh? You're just asking for pain," he told her. "Stop trying to push yourself to the edge. You think you want to be there, but trust me ... once you fall off, you'll regret it."

She nodded.

"I'm going to give you a sedative."

"You give everyone sedatives."

"I'm going to give you a sedative. You are going to sleep, and you are going to eat a big meal, and we will talk tomorrow."

"About what?"

"About anything. A check-up."

She sighed.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself." Pause. "We do care about you. No matter what you may think."

"I don't fit in," she said blankly.

"Lal," he said.

She looked to him.

"Promise me?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes," she whispered, not knowing if she was telling him the truth or a lie.

"Hi," said the mouse.

Lal paused, looking to him. She hadn't met him yet. She'd been the one who'd picked up his distress call. She had found him, but ... hadn't met him yet.

"Who are you?" He was sitting against the wall, on the floor. In the habitat ring.

"What are you doing?" Lal demanded, with a bit more force than intended.

"Listening."

"Listening?"

"My ears," he said. "I have good hearing."

She looked to them. "I guess you do."

"When I just sit and lean against the wall, I can hear the thrum and hum of the power core. I can hear all the beeps and whirs of the motors and the wires and ... like a mechanical symphony."

Lal wasn't sure what to say to that. "I never noticed."

"You have to listen."

"I've always considered myself a good listener."

"When it comes to hearing words, maybe. But sounds ... " The mouse trailed. "When you know you can't escape a place, you latch onto the sounds. It's the sounds that help you pass the time. They distract you. You become very intimate with sounds."

Lal shook her head, not understanding where this was coming from. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Rye."

"That's the name Birch gave you?"

Rye nodded.

"Well ... there's no loitering in the halls," she told him.

"Who are you?"

"What?" she asked.

"What's your name?"

She hesitated. "Lal."

He nodded. "That's a palindrome." His nose and whiskers twitched.

"I suppose it is," she confessed, nodding.

"That's, like, a perfect name, as far as order goes. Spelled the same forwards and backwards. Three letters. Like the three points of a triangle. Nature's ... "

"Perfect shape," she finished. Nodding. "Yes. Yes, most creatures, they like curves. They don't appreciate angles. Angles are far more important." There was a glow of excitement in her eyes. "Do you ... you're tidy?"

"All mice are. We're fastidious."

"I wish all creatures would be," she said, sighing. "I wish they understood ... that it's not so hard to pick up after yourself. You put this there, and that here, and everything has its place. Put everything back in its place after using it, and everything's clean and fine and ... " She took a breath. "And they never notice dust. I find dust everywhere," she said. "It gets through the environmental controls, and they tell me I'm imagining it, but ... dust," she said. She shuddered. "I just want everything to be clean. I just want to be clean," she said. It was almost a plea.

The mouse nodded. Still sitting.

A pause.

The mouse's ears swivelled. Lal's own ears tried to listen to the hum, too. She could faintly hear the station's power core. Maybe she was so used to it ... that she tuned it out. But, then, her ears weren't as good as a mouse's.

Another pause.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Lal finally asked him.

"No," he whispered.

"Has the captain assigned you a job yet?"

"No."

"Well, you've been sitting here all day, then?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you bored?"

"I don't get bored. Ever," he said. Defiant.

She nodded.

"Boredom leads to insanity. At least ... it did where I was. I saw others," the mouse confessed, twitching and shivering. He was a lot better off, and a lot more mellow ... than he had been when they'd first rescued him. But he still twitched. He was still timid. The scars showed up in his body language, the way he spoke. "I saw others go insane."

Lal only nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She didn't talk like this, with other creatures. Candidly. About ... feelings. About going insane. She tended to steer clear of such topics.

"I was gonna eat some rice," Lal said lamely.

He looked to her.

"But the doctor told me to eat more, so ... I was gonna make something else." Pause. "Would you mind eating with me?"

His whiskers twitched. He looked to her.

"Just to talk," she assured. "I mean ... you seem like you might be able to understand me," she said, trailing. That sounded desperate.

"Okay," Rye said, shrugging.

Lal smiled. A cautious smile, but still ... a smile. She'd found a friend.