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Milo

I want to do it, right? He'll take off his clothes and I'll take off mine and we'll get close and then...yeah.

"It's funny," he says, padding around my room curiously, "how they always give soldiers the biggest rooms."

I turn my ears back toward him so he knows I'm listening, if he cares, but I keep my body hunched on the edge of my bed, facing the window speckled with faraway stars. The gentle hum of Petri's engines paints the background of this somber soundscape. All I feel I can do is fall victim to the pine marten's soothing voice. I hear him slide onto my bed. I feel his delicate fingers graze the collar of my shirt.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Sethi." His fingers stop. "Sethi Adragir."

I freeze because he froze, feeling the rumble of anxiety form in my stomach. I turn my head to look at him.

His vivid green eyes read my expression. "Soldiers usually don't care about names," he says.

"I'm not a soldier," I say, my tail thumping the bed softly.

Sethi lowers his eyes, his fingers floating onto my shoulder. "Well you sure have the body of one."

I shake my shoulder out of his grasp and return my look to the window. My stomach starts to hurt.

"Sensitive, are we?" he chuckles. My tail thumps harder. He stops laughing. After a moment, he sits down next to me. "We can go slow," he says, hovering a paw over my thigh, "if you want..."

It's almost like I can feel the electricity from his paw on my leg, making me shiver. I want to, but I don't. Petri's humming crescendos slowly in my ears, causing my thoughts to shout just so I can hear them. Sentences of what I want to say whip around the air in front of me and vanish into space. There are so many words I could use, but they fly away before I can catch them. So, I settle with the easiest one to say. "Leave."

I regret it the moment I say it. Sethi looks hurt, and though I barely know him, I still care about how he sees me. He doesn't say anything. Just gets up, picks up his jacket, and walks away. I think I hear a sniffle as he paces out the door. Or maybe a gasp? I don't hear the door close, so I look to see if maybe he forgot something. Sethi is gone, but in the doorway stands a tall, poised mountain lion observing me with a curious expression. I quickly stand to greet her familiar face.

"Milo, is everything alright?" she asks in her compassionate tone, watching as Sethi walks away.

"Yes, Commander Dian. I'm okay." I try to match her posture.

She keeps looking at him. "I do not think he is." That makes me falter a bit, but she doesn't notice. "May I come in?" she says, turning back to me.

"Of course," I say, trying to hide the nervousness in my voice. During the war, I gradually looked forward to her visits. She wasn't always nice or calm when I got sent to her, but she was always respectful and sympathetic. I didn't always leave those reconditioning meetings happily, but I left knowing there was at least someone I could talk to. Seeing her here now, though, is strange; I can't think of any reason why she would need to talk to me.

"Small room," she says as she walks in.

I guess the higher-ups had even bigger rooms than us high-ranking ex-military soldiers did. "It's more than I need, to be honest."

She wanders over to my nightstand and picks up a childhood photo of my best friend Akesa and me. "You never asked for much..." she trails off.

Unsure of whether I should say something, I stand at the foot of my bed patiently. My nose picks up a sweet smell of lavender radiating gently from Commander Dian's clothes. It's a pleasant surprise that distracts my distressing thoughts for only a moment.

She sighs and returns the framed picture. "Which makes what I need to ask of you that much harder to say." She pivots to face me. Instinctively, I straighten up again. "Do not worry about formalities here, Milo. You are not in any trouble, and I am not your superior anymore."

I relax, settling onto the bed. "You have a question? What is it?"

She walks a few steps toward me, gesturing with her paw if she can sit down next to me. I nod and scoot over a little. She takes a long breath, "I need your help."

It feels like a weight dropping into my stomach. All the stress and worry I felt during the war just manifested again into this huge block in my chest. My ears flatten, and I start shaking. "With what?" I stutter.

"Bad things have been happening on the ship. I need your help to stop them." Her voice is more sympathetic than I thought it would be. Although, the fact that she's keeping 'bad things' as vague as possible concerns me. "I cannot tell you all the details right now, and you are not required to help, but I could definitely use it."

I think about it for a few seconds, just so she doesn't automatically assume that I'm too weak to deal with something like this, but my mind is already made up. "With all due respect, Commander, I don't think--"

"I thought so," she cuts me off as she stands, "but if you change your mind, send me an email by dinner tomorrow." She turns and starts walking toward the door.

Some part of me wants her to stay, at least so I can explain what I'm feeling. She always went easier on me when I confided in her. I know she's busy though, so I don't say anything as I watch her walk out the door.

I flop backwards onto my bed once the door slides closed. The familiar chest-pain of hyperventilating replaces the boiling anxiety in my stomach. I cross my arms over my face, exhaling. It's okay, I tell myself, she's gone. You don't have to help.

Then why do I feel like I should?