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Dian

Like the rest of the ex-soldiers I plan on asking, I know Rey cannot resist the urge to help. I know him the best, which is why I knew he would need time to think about it. The others--especially this next visit--I am not so sure.

After I leave Rey I take the stairs down three flights to Floor 34. The border guards nod at me as I walk through the Southern gate. I count the hallways as I walk deeper into the ship, keeping a close eye on the numbers on the wall. My tail starts twitching as I pass a group of maintenance workers to the left of me. They appear to be inspecting a painted-over valve that leads up and away from the edge of the wall. My claws spring out at the sound of one of their tools dropping. I have to will them to retract, keeping the rhythm to my pace. Beside the wall, a sign reads "Rooms 900-909 Odd." I walk further until I reach 960-979, turning down the hallway to the right of me. My ears flick around now and I have to force my tail to keep still, making sure, at the very least, to keep my posture. Posture is everything. If anything happens... No, nothing will happen. Not in the hallways.

A few moments later, I find myself staring blankly at the door to Room 971. I shake my head and take a deep breath before knocking.

A reserved, high-pitched voice responds, "Who is it?"

"My name is Dian." I wait patiently, unable to tune out the sound of clothes being violently tossed around. "I am with the Pets."

Mostly silence now, but I listen closer and hear tiny taps. Metal against metal. "What do you want?"

I remember that many people on the ship do not trust the Pets as much as I do. I try to think of why she would not. "Do not worry. I am not here for an inspection. I just want to talk."

The hallway is quiet around me, save for the humming of the lights. I am sure the adjacent rooms are inhabited, but right now they all feel completely deserted. The way the Pets organized who lives where is still unknown to me. I do not like not knowing these details.

After a big thump reverberates from her room into the hallway, I hear her walking--limping?--to the door. The door slides open.

We lock eyes. The split-second of confusion we share immediately intensifies into fear. Our ears fold back and our hearts start racing. As far as she knows, I am here to finish what I started.

I raise my paws slowly, "Halle, I am not here to h--" I am silenced as the red panda jumps at me. The moment her feet leave the ground, her red and white face full of rage, I step back and brace myself. Her vicious claws connect with my shoulders. I step back again with my other foot, absorbing the impact. The rage drains from her face as I overpower her and force her to the ground. I push her into her room and pin her down. Her right foot struggles to squeeze between us so she can push me off, but I keep it planted with my knees. As a last resort, she tries biting at my face, but I quickly weigh the length of my arm across her shoulders and hold her neck down in my other paw. Not squeezing, just holding.

With her arms trapped at her sides, she soon stops struggling. Her scratching at the floor ceases as she looks at me. For a few seconds, the only sound is heavy breathing between us. I remember why I came here. "I am not here to hurt you. I just want to talk."

"Get off me!" she snarls.

"Are you going to attack me again?"

"Yes. Why shouldn't I?"

It is a confident 'yes,' but I feel her paws unclench beneath me. "Because there is more at stake here than your feelings towards me."

"Easy for you to say," Halle stares at me with cold eyes. "You still have...still have both your..." She starts gasping, choking. It is only when I look down that I feel my claws piercing her neck, my paw abnormally tight around it. I release her immediately.

"You're insane," she coughs.

"I am sorry," I say, standing up and looking at her shiny left leg. "That was not intentional, and neither was you losing your leg."

She pulls herself up, her metal leg clanking on the floor. I watch her limp to her desk as she massages her throat, "What, you thought you'd just shoot me and be done with it?" She swings her robotic leg up on her desk and tinkers with the knee joint.

The sight of my claws in her neck lingers in my mind as I lean back against the wall. "Well, I did not plan for you to survive that fight."

She half turns to me, her tail stiff and raised in caution. "You saying I should thank you?"

For a second, I swear I see the crosshairs of my gun focused on her. I shake my head to erase that image, "I am saying it is a miracle you are still alive."

She gives me a long look before focusing back on her leg. I watch her paws reach for all kinds of different tools splayed out on her desk. Her striped tail swishes now. "What do you want?"

"I am recruiting ex-soldiers for an important mission of mine. I could use your assistance." Halle's room is about the size of Milo's, but it is not nearly as clean. The clothes I heard being tossed around before litter the floor. She must have put in a request for a new desk because the one she has is newer, and it looks sturdier than the usual ones. Tools of all shapes, sizes, and functions are everywhere: on her bed, hanging on the walls, pouring out of her closet. Her desk is its own mess. It is stained with a dark substance in multiple spots, and jars of screws are piled up along the wall.

"I'm gonna need more--" her speech slows as she concentrates on tightening a screw "--information than that."

The glint of her desk light reflecting off a ring on one of her fingers catches my eye. Squinting at it, I notice a strange silver pattern on it. Distinct, but familiar. "Vandalisms, theft, trespassing, possibly arson. Need I go on?" Halle pulls her leg off the table and lets it slam against the floor, making my tail twitch. She practices bending her leg at the knee, almost without friction.

"Depends. You do know security guards exist, right?" she asks condescendingly, with a smirk. "It's their job to deal with stuff like that."

I fold my arms and lean against the wall, shaking my head. "This is beyond what they can handle. Most of them were not in the war." That, and all of their ranks were surprisingly very low. Mostly Cleats and Clovers.

Her smirk fades and her ears flatten a bit, "Those are all minor crimes. Why would you need the military's help?"

I calm down a bit more knowing she is interested. "I cannot tell you any more information until I have your guaranteed assistance in this mission."

"Then count me out," she sighs. "I need to know exactly what I'm getting into. And I'd rather not go back to..."

Our ears pick up the same dense noise echoing from the hallway into her room. At the same time, the ground shakes a little beneath us. I hear Halle say something but my mind is already considering worst-case scenarios for whatever is making people scream and yell from the hallway. I am already running when I register her voice again.

"Do you think this has something to do with those vandalisms?" she shouts, running beside me.

I do not answer her. Civilians crowd the center of Petri, barricading the stairs. Border security is doing their best to keep everyone calm, but they are not having much of an effect. I push my way to the guardrails so I can see. Medics and firefighters are running into the shallow cloud of smoke flooding out of the Southern section of Floor 35. Not many civilians are coming out, but the ones I follow with my eyes are limping. Some leave trails of red behind them.

"My God..." Halle's soft voice behind me solidifies the scene in front of me. I let out the breath I have been holding, decline my head, and close my eyes. I am left with civilians' whispers floating through my head. Being on this side of the incident is frustrating; I feel like I could have done something if I had been there when it happened. My urge to jump down there and help the remaining victims is suppressed by the light coming from my wristband when I open my eyes. It is a message from the Pets.

"Where is the closest medical center?" I ask Halle, turning around.

"What? It's uhh, in the West section."

"I could really use your help," I say, pushing a piece of paper into her paw as I slide past her. "Let me know by dinner tomorrow what you decide."

She says something as I weave through the crowd, but I do not care. I am needed elsewhere right now. As I cross the bridge, heavy sobbing pulls my ears back toward the smoking hallway. I look over one last time. An otter and a husky are walking together. Squinting, I see that the husky is the one crying, and limping. He pulls his paws off his face and looks around frantically. Wait...is that Milo?