“I am Sarah D… um Leavu, first floret of Rhyne Leavu 4th Bloom. I was the Captain of the rebellion frigate, Hope.”  

The words played for at least the 1000th time. Pad of Smith's thumbs worn raw from dragging and resetting the time of the video over and over. 

“The Affini have been good to me. I am more fulfilled now than I knew was even possible. I am happy, healthy, and taken care of.”

Why was she wearing that fucking thing on her neck. Like a house pet. Not her, not his Sarah. Not in a million years. She was a fighter like him. She wouldn’t break that easy. They made her make that video. Made her say those things. She was probably planning an escape right now. Wouldn’t surprise him if she walked through the door at any second. 

He actually looked at the door and held his breath. 

It was just a dream. That’s what he kept telling himself. Then why was it so different? Why did that fucking plant have to talk to him? Why did he remember all of it so vividly? It’s like she was still in his head. Words still bouncing around inside the walls of his skull. 

“Little one, why do you fight so hard?”

“Stop it”

“What is it that you’re so afraid of?”

“Get the fuck out of my head!”

Auditory hallucinations. A sign of severe sleep deprivation. He was lucid enough to understand it wasn’t real. At least that’s what he kept saying to himself. 

He leaned over and reached around in the drawer under his bunk. An indent now showing from under where he sat on his mattress, carved by sitting upright and unmoving in the same spot for hours.

Jittery hands scattered miscellaneous things around the small storage under his bed, junk clanging into the thin metal walls. They were feeling around in the dark for the familiar shape offf- there it is. 

Another injector, because the last one went so well. This one was a stimulant. He didn’t bother reading the label. Routine that’s what it was. Take the cap off, line it up on your neck and, “ Ahk shit!”

His skin was raw. Too many injections in the same spot had the side of his neck discolored and swollen. Riddled with little yellow, to brown, to purple bruises and tiny red dots from where the countless needles were driven in. The stuff was glorified poison and it showed sometimes. He had to find a different spot.

Wrist would have to do for now. With no second thought he stuck himself with the injector. Blood shooting back up into the clear liquid vial before his thumb hit the plunger dispensing toxins throughout his body.

Much like the previous drug, nothing about the experience feels natural. You start to feel hot. Not a dry heat. It’s like being in the bathroom after you just get out of a shower. A layer of moisture forming on your skin causing your clothes to stick to your body. The palms of your hands, your neck, and the bottoms of your feet throb. Both from an effort to lower your body temperature by bleeding excess heat and an increase in blood pressure. Your heart pounds. Increasing by 10 to 20 to 30 beats per minute. Like running a marathon while sitting in bed.

Smith's body was screaming for rest while being kept awake, held at gunpoint by a mix of synthetic adrenaline, amphetamines, and hormones. 

In other words: Poison.

Smith gasped for air as the full force of the stimulant hit him like a kick to the chest blurring out his vision until his body adjusted to the new stress. He just sat on the side of his bed trying to pace his breaths and come down from the initial rush. Maybe a cold shower would help. Or maybe

~Bzzzt

~Bzzzt

~Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt Bzzzt 

“Who the fuck is texting me so early” he scooped up his data pad from the corner of his bed and opened the screen. He was greeted with 6 unread messages. 

Undiagnosed Adhd: Gym? (07:05)

Undiagnosed Adhd: Dude gymmmm(07:05)

Undiagnosed Adhd: ur moms a hoe (07:06)

Undiagnosed Adhd: This is Andrew's sister. He killed himself because you were ignoring him. He told me to give you this in the note he left. (07:06) 

Undiagnosed Adhd: (zoomed in picture of a dick) 

Corp. Smith: Please… shut the fuck up (07:06)

Undiagnosed Adhd: You’re alive! (07:07)

Corp.Smith: Long night. (07:07)

Corp. Smith: There soon. (07:07)

Undiagnosed Adhd: I had a long night too, your mom says hi btw lol (07:07)

Undiagnosed Adhd: also why do you text like ur 80 (07:07)

Corp Smith: I’m muting you. (07:08)

SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: Undiagnosed Adhd has changed your username to Old Man 

Old Man: It’s a 5 minute walk to the gym. You have that long to hide. (07:09)

Undiagnosed Adhd: hehehehe

   Time to get the up Smith

“Deep breath, center yourself, breathe out.” Might have worked if he wasn’t in an chemically induced state of fight or flight. Well maybe the gym will help. 

Smith stood up and picked the cleanest pair of sweatpants and a tank top off of the “not dirty, not quite clean pile” that had a permanent home on the chair near his desk. They passed the sniff test and that was good enough. The sweat pants were a thin black cotton material, baggy as all hell but snug around the waist. He’d had them since basic. They were ratty, full of holes, and the drawstring was barely holding on. Even the Navy logo was peeled off beyond all recognition. But they were his and they were comfortable. He may have also been a touch sentimental.

Tank top was just a tank top. Little bit too small for him but that was the usual. Unintentionally cropped just above the waistline of his pants. Any small movement would show off just a peak of his belly and the little happy trail that lead up to his belly button before disappearing under his shirt. 

Sarah used to call him a slut when he wore his workout gear. He would politely correct her that the term was Man Whore. He could be fun sometimes.

“Okay where’s my bag, sweet here we are. Gloves, pads, towel, water, change of clothes…. I think we’re good.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder “no pain no gainz” in bold white lettering was written across the front. A gift from Andrews from when they first started working out together. Well he worked out. Andrews posed his little bird chest in the mirrors and would go a few rounds light sparring so that when he was on shore leave not only could he tell all the girls and boys he flirted with at bars that he was a rebel but he was also a boxer. Hasn’t ever worked but he never let that stop him. 

Smith exited his quarters and made his way towards the gym. It was more or less a straight shot from his room. He could follow the hallway straight down. 

It was early and the halls of the Defiance were near empty. I mean they were always near empty but it was especially bad in the wee hours. To make matters worse it was deadly quiet on his walk, not great for where his head was at. He tried to ignore the sounds of footsteps behind him. When he did look there was nothing there so it didn’t help anything. Still his head was on a swivel, looking back every few seconds just to make sure there weren’t vines coming through the ventilation to grab him by his ankles and drag him down into the

Stop it 

thorns that poked through the Affini’s bodies. He swore they’d turn to a blender if they were to get their tendrils around him. Looked like they could rip skin from meat, and meat from bone, until there was nothing left but a human paste. Unraveled, the way they moved was more like a mass of flesh unbound by the restrictions of a skeleton. Waves of green and brown vines overlapping and rolling over each other moving towards you so fluidly and elegantly in one moment and twitchily darting and changing direction on a dime in another 

On his quick exit from earth he’d seen two of his crewmates become completely swallowed by a mess of green vines. Good men, men he had fought and bled with. They were paralyzed before it even hit them. Like a tsunami of organic matter barreling down a hallway. Vines shooting out in every direction and rooting themselves in the walls of his barracks, using them as a slingshot to propel themselves forward. The thing completely unfurled itself at the last moment turning into a blanket of roots and leaves that wrapped itself around the two men in the blink of an eye. There was no hope,

Please stop 

they were coming for him. As much as he wanted to believe it was just a dream. Brush it off like it was another delusion from stress and exhaustion, he knew it wasn’t. He knew that was a collar on Sarah, he knew that fucking thing was actually talking to him, looking past him and into his thoughts. He said things he never would have said. The plant bitch squeezed it out of him. Like her vines slipped their way past his defenses, into his ears, and now had a firm hold around his brain. He was compromised. The voices were too loud.

“It won’t be long now. Just be a good boy and wait for us okay?” 

Shut up

“I am Sarah D… um Leavu, first floret of Rhyne Leavu 4th Bloom. I was the Captain of the rebellion frigate, Hope.”  

Shut. Up.

“Promise me you’ll be better Chris”

I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP 

…

“Smith, are you okay..? He was in the gym. Andrews was standing right in front of him. He looked confused, scared. He must have been on autopilot and walked all the way there. 

“You’ve been talking to yourself and-“

“I’m fine.” He huffed not giving Andrews the chance to finish his sentence. He couldn’t think about this anymore. Just had to straighten out his thoughts.

“Okay um…” 

Smith was quick to change the subject “We’re doing core and legs today. You should stretch, might pull something.” 

“Yeah sure, I know.” Andrews got the message, sighing defeatedly” 

The Defiance’s gym wasn’t massive by any standard. The ship wasn’t big enough to dedicate that much space to it. Had just enough gear to get by. A small ring for sparring in the corner near the entrance. Not a formal ring, just padded floors and an outline. The regular selection of barbells, squat racks, a couple treadmills. Two racks of dumbbells running parallel to the mirrored wall at the very back of the gym. Looked like either a really impressive home gym or the shittiest commercial gym you’d ever been to. 

Smith and Andrews set up in the back, the wall of dumbbells creating a slightly more secluded space for the men to work out. The kid had been having issues with a few of the crew harassing him when he came by himself so he always gravitated towards the back. Small men looking to fuck with someone to make themselves feel bigger. Pathetic. There was nowhere to hide of course, it was a wide open space. But if Andrews felt safer minimally obscured behind a weight rack so be it, didn’t bother Smith. 

“Do you remember the stretches I taught you?” Smith was crouched down onto his left leg right leg straight out to the side with his heel on the floor as he reached for his toes. 

“For sure!” Andrews gleamed 

…….

Smith shut his eyes looking dead ahead and sighing not once breaking from his stretch “You don’t remember the stretches do you? 

“I do not.” Andrews nodded and made an awkward smile as he struggled to copy Smith's pose.

“Kidddd we have done them so many fucking times” Smith recovered back onto his knees and turned to look at Andrews.

“You know I have a bad memory!” Andrews jokingly yelled.

“What you have is deficit of ridges on your fucking brain.” 

“True, thoughts slide right off.” He was being a little shit. 

Smith widened his eyes and cracked a small smile “You know how easily I could strangle you?”

“I dunno, but it sounds kinky.” The kid chuckled and instinctively leaned back to avoid Smith retaliating physically to his quip. 

“I fucking hate you”

Tha banter was nice. Smith needed a distraction and Andrews was extremely talented at being just that. While they were busy going back and forth the door to the gym slid open. Smith only noticed when Andrew's focus moved past him and towards the door. Joy drained from Andrew's face as he peered over Smith's shoulder. He slowly slinked down, kneeling on the floor.

“What a lovely couple” the voice behind Smith spoke, obviously mocking them.

“Just leave me alone, Till.” Andrews practically whispered, mumbling his words. 

The person speaking was a new addition to the crew, a combat systems engineer by the name of Till. Joined a month or so after the surrender, must have seen the propaganda being produced by the Free Terran Rebellion and really just ate it up. Or alternatively just wanted a reason to fight something. It was a toss up honestly. 

Smith stood off his knees and turned around to meet the man, doing his best to put himself between him and Andrew’s as his friend was obviously uncomfortable. He turned to come face to face with Till, only being separated by the weight rack between them. They were close to being eye to eye, Smith only being an inch or two taller and just barely the bigger of the two. 

“Were using the floor, should be done in around an hour or so. Gyms big enough, I’m sure you can find another spot.” A deterrent. Smith spoke standing his ground without acknowledging the comment, but also trying to get a point across (go away).

Till scoffed, not breaking eye contact. “You like his daddy or something?”

“Yeah or somethin. Listen, how about you enjoy your session and we try to stay out of each others ways?” Smith patted him hard on the shoulder, another deterrent (one more chance, walk away).

Till shrugged off Smith's hand and took a step back.

“Yeah, don’t worry I’ll be right over here.” He gestured back towards the other side of the gym. He looked down at Andrews who was practically hiding behind Smith's back and flashed a predatory grin. “Guess I’ll see you around Andrew’s.” Thankfully that was it. He walked off to set up elsewhere.

Smith looked back at Andrews who was still tucked into himself on the floor.

“That’s one of ‘em?” Smith was referring to Andrews bullies. 

“One of wh- oh yeah.” Andrew adjusted uncomfortably, stiffening his lip, trying to appear a bit more tough. “He’s just an asshole for literally no reason. I didn’t even do anything to him.”

Smith walked over to Andrews and plucked him off the ground lifting him to his feet. 

“You don’t always have to. Some people are just looking for issues. Have something to prove, want to feel like big men. Try not to let it get to you, it’s insecurity.”

“I just wish he’d stop. I’m thinking of reporting him to Spears. It’s like every time I see him now.” 

Smith paused trying to find the right words. “Kid, you could tell Spears if that’s what you want, but it wouldn’t fix your problem. You need to be able to deal with people like this yourself. There will always be another Till and I won’t always be there to stand between them and you. You have to be able to stand up for yourself.” 

Andrews yanked his shoulder away from Smith's grip. “I get it, fuck. I don’t need the speech for the 1000th time. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you.” Smith huffed.

“Look out for me? You couldn’t even look out for Sarah!” 

Smith’s ears started to ring, it sounded like a small siren going off in his head. He clenched his fists and snarled looking down at Andrews. “The fuck did you just say.”

“I said you couldn’t save me!” This time it was Sarah’s voice he heard. 

The room started spinning, the walls were just too close, and it was way too hot. He couldn’t catch his breath. The anger in Andrews' face quickly changed to concern as he watched Smith stumble back, bumping into the weight rack and knocking one of the dumbbells off. It fell to the floor clanging against the bars of the rack on the way down. 

“Smith, are you sure you’re okay?” Andrews reached out for him.

“I’m fine, j-just fuck off.” He slapped away Andrews hand stammering over his words as he pushed off the weight rack and walked towards the exit.  Andrews followed close behind. 

“Smith, let’s go to medical you really don’t look-“

Smith snapped around impulses winning the war going on in his head, “I said fuck off brat!” He was shouting directly in Andrew's face. 

Andrews stood there silently, eyes wide open, scared. “Oh, um sorry…” He chewed on the insides of his cheeks and looked down away from Smith as he spoke now afraid to meet his eyes. He made himself look small. Head craned down towards his shoulder as he looked at the ground, arms crossed against his chest, hands gripping under his armpits. Smith made him feel small. Not his bullies, not the Affini, but Smith. The exchange had snapped him out of his spiral but it was too late. Guilt gripped his stomach as he wished he could take back his words. 

“Kid I’m…” Andrews had already started to walk off. Didn’t even bother with his gear. Head just looking towards the ground the entire time. He knew the kid was crying and was too embarrassed to let anyone see.

Goddamnit Smith

There was no reason Andrews should be here. There was no reason any of them should be here but especially not Andrews. He was soft, kind hearted, and genuine. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. He was too good for all of this shit. He was just a kid.

And Smith just shouted at him. The one person that he actually gives a shit about. The one person that checked on him every day since Sarah went missing, saved him a seat in the mess hall, and practically clung to his hip any chance he got. And he just made him cry. He quickly scooped up his bag and went to follow Andrew’s.

“Hey Smith, you gonna go chase after your little twink boyfriend!”

Till was leaning over one of the weight racks taunting him. 

“I mean he’s a little young for me, not much the cradle robbing type myself”

Smith, ignore it you’re better than this

“Do you hear me, or maybe your throats still too sore to talk from sucking his-“

Smith dropped the bag from over his shoulder.

“Oooh, did that strike a nerve?” 

Till walked around the weight rack to meet Smith on the other side. It was dick measuring contest at this point. Or maybe Till was just thoroughly a piece of shit, he didn’t know which. He wasn’t thinking about much honestly. Just trying to quiet the drum beats in his head, now made louder by harsh chemicals flowing through his blood, and Till airing his blatant insecurity for everyone to see.

“Till, it’s not a good day for this. Take your homophobic ass somewhere else.”

“Or what?” He poked Smith’s chest. He was trying to push his buttons. Looking to start a fight. It was working.

“Listen, I'm going back to my room. I’d recommend you explore outside your closet, you could probably use the air. I’m not doing this with you.”

Smith turned around, trying to avoid the situation all together. It’s stupid, fighting is stupid. Fighting your own people when there is a giant alien plant species looming in the dark waiting to attack was especially stupid. 

Till made Smith’s decision for him, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him around. When Smith had spun a full 180 degrees Till was already cocked up ready to throw a punch. He let it go, right hook coming straight for Smith's face. He backstepped and ducked the punch, Till’s knuckles just barely clipping the top of his head.

As he ducked Till took a step forward drawing back his arm from the spent punch to push Smiths head down and throwing a knee with his back leg, there wasn’t enough time to get into guard, Smith managed to get his arms down to brace some of the strike, but still took most of the force from the knee directly on the cheekbone. 

As Smith’s head popped back up from the knee, Till threw another right hand. Once again Smith didn't have enough time to get into guard still reeling from the knee strike. He just lowered his head and hoped for the best taking the flurry of Till’s attacks. 

Till’s right hand landed smack in the center of Smith's forehead, full force of the punch coming to a complete stop against hard bone. Knuckles compressing against one another, you could practically hear his hand break. Still it was like ringing a gong. Whatever bearings Smith had left were forcefully ejected out of both of his ears as he wobbled backwards trying not to fall on his ass. The world appeared doubled, his head light, with stars circling his vision. He shook his head and tried to collect himself, his view finally settling on the 2 Till’s standing in front of him.  

“Mother fucker!” Till recoiled back stumbling into the weight rack behind him, now holding his very broken hand. He pulled a 5 pound dumbbell off the rack with his good hand and quickly undid the pins holding the metal plates in place. Both plates fell off the metal bar and hit the floor with loud thuds.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” He lunged at Smith swinging wildly. The tip of the bar missing Smith’s face by only a few inches. 

With his senses dulled and seeing double he made a hail Mary. He took one backstep slipping the swing of the bar in Tills hand, using the momentum from the backstep he snapped a heel kick, pivoting off of his left foot, right leg now flying down onto Till’s head, heel colliding with his left temple. Textbook spinning heel, how he managed to snap the kick in his condition could only be attributed to good luck and muscle memory.

Till’s large body went limp smacking down onto the floor. The force of Smith's kick made his head bounce off the ground. When Till finally settled into one position he was rested with his ass pointing up in the air, the side of his face hugging the floor, and his eyes looking off into nothing as blood poured out of his lips. 

That was it. All the posturing for nothing. Stupid, fucking stupid. Smith turned him full onto his side to make sure he wouldn’t choke on the blood coming from his mouth. He’s lucky falling like that didn’t break any of his teeth. 

Smith just flopped backwards onto the floor, legs criss crossed, sitting next to Till’s limp body. He reached up to feel the damage on his face, wincing as he traced the edges of his swollen bloody cheek. 

He pulled the tablet out of his front front pocket to ping medical, who would no doubt ping the MP’s, who would no doubt bring Smith to speak with Spears. He sat that there and waited for that sequence of events to take place. 

—————————————————

“Smith…”

“Spears…” 

Spears' office was bleached out from the stagnant overhead white lighting. The window of his workspace looked out over the front of the ship. Smith had to admit it was a beautiful view. You could see the coils wrapped around the ship's main armament, it ran all the way to the front of the ship. The ship's nose broke in the center coming to a fine point on both sides. Like two Spears cutting through space as their engines drove them forward. His office was furnished with a big wooden desk and a plush leather chair. Helped him feel like the boss I guess. Pictures of his time in the academy. Other photos of him with important figures that Smith couldn’t name. Smiling, shaking hands, pinning medals.

It was easy to forget sometimes that Spears was a person under all of that inflated ego.

“Smith, are you stupid …?” 

No doubt a rhetorical question, Smith waited for Spears to wrap around to his point. 

“I mean you have to be at least a little fucking dumb right? To be fighting a fresh fucking recruit. He’s been here what, a little over a month? Honestly, you know what I could give less of a shit about him, but you, you Smith. You are the most senior members of this crew only after me. You are the example for everyone else on this ship and the example you set today is absolutely un-fucking-acceptable! Ridiculous, just fucking ridiculous!

Spears was practically spitting as he talked. Face turning red as he leaned over his desk, reaming into Smith.

We are no more than one bad day, one bad day Smith. One bad day away from total fucking anarchy. Over half of the crew on this ship was never part of the Cosmic Fleet. Never got thorough training, never got thorough discipline, never saw the full weight and power of the Navy at its Peak. One day is all it would take to turn this ship on its head and I need you to be on your shit. 

Spears leaned back into his chair and ran his hand over his hair combing it back. He took a deep breath letting some of the red color drain from his face.  “But…. “

“I reviewed the footage from the fight in the gym and as unhappy as I am with how you handled it, it is obvious Till was the instigator. I want you to know we have him spending 3 days in the brig. Can’t spare much more time than that as we are…” Spears rolled his head around looking for words that made their situation sound less bleak than it was. “Lacking manpower to say the least. But, we also can’t let infighting and that attitude of his go unpunished.”

The one thing he would say of Spears despite his personality was that he was by the books and had zero tolerance towards fighting among crewmates. He really wasn’t that bad of a guy if Smith was being honest, he was no doubt just as stressed as Smith was. The truth was he hated him because he wasn’t Sarah and that wasn’t something he could help.

“You know Andrews came to my office right before I was alerted to your little scuffle?” He shot Smith a knowing look. 

“Did he now? And said?” Smith braced for his response.

“He said that he was worried about you. That you were talking to yourself this morning, that you looked like shit, and Smith. Spears looked him up and down, “you do look like shit.”

Smith's eyes were bloodshot with dark circles hugging up against his nose. Pupils dilated to fine little points. Pale skin, flushed, almost yellow. He looked sick. In other words. He looked like shit. 

“I want to put our differences aside for once. I know you don’t like me. I don’t particularly like you if I’m being honest. But right now you and I are the two foundations of this ship. So I need to know where your head is and if I need to be worried about anything. You can speak freely.” 

This was a trap. Spears had to be playing a game. Get him to admit what he’d been thinking. That his thoughts were compromised, that the Affini were in his head. He’d lock him up or worse, throw him into the cold emptiness of space. 

“Smith.” Spears spoke again. 

“I’m fine.”

“For God's sake Smith, you are obviously not fine!” He leaned out of his seat and looked up towards Smith's neck  “How many stims have you been taking? Better yet where the fuck have you been getting them when supplies are running low as is? You know that alone is a punishable offense.” His look became dead serious. 

Smith reflexively reached up and pulled his collar higher.

“What is it you want, Spears?”

“I don’t want to find you dead in your quarters!” Spears was shouting again. He breathed in and looked down past his shoulders sucking in on his cheeks. 

Listen, I can't help what happened with Sarah but-”

“Don’t. Don’t say her name.” Smith spoke through gritted teeth. 

“And I can’t help you unless you talk to me.” Spears doubled down “Call me a tool, fine. Asshole, green around the ears, underqualified. I’ve heard it all. But say something Smith.” 

Only silence filled the air 

Spears took a deep breath in, grabbing the edge of his desk, and rolling his chair out from under it. He stood and with his typical posture walked over to the window of his office and stared out into space with his hands behind his back. He suddenly turned around after having a moment to think. 

“How about this, I’ll start... This ship is falling apart, Smith. It's not a secret. I don’t have all the answers but I can’t let any of the crew know that and to make it all worse I was thrust into a position I was not at all prepared to fill. All I can do is give my best to keep us on course and Alive.” His eyes sharpened as he looked at Smith, trying to convey a point. “I need your help to do that, Smith. I fought it for a while but that’s my position. Now you talk.”

Smith fought with his thoughts. The words in his head grew louder and louder. He couldn’t say what he was thinking. 

“I’m not doing this Spears. If you want to talk about your feelings, call your therapist.”

Obviously not the response Spears was looking for having gone so far to reach across the aisle. Smith could see him stifle the rant that was building in his stomach. Pained look on his face as he swallowed it. 

“You’re dismissed, Smith. You should go to medical, have them check you out. Make sure that breakdown that’s building up in your head isn’t something worse. Don’t let me catch you on stims again.”

Smith got up from his seat, not wasting any time. He barely made it to the door before Spears spoke again.

“It’s a standing offer, Smith… To talk. My door is open.”

“Yeah, I’ll think about it.” Smith didn’t even look back to speak. Just dipped through the doorway. Bigger things to worry about he had to find that kid. Apologize. 

Old Man: Andrews where are you? (09:42)

Old Man: Andrews talk to me please. (09:45)

Undiagnosed Adhd: I’m sorry for making you angry I shouldn’t have pressed you (09:45)

Old Man: None of that, not your fault. Where are you, (09:46) 

Undiagnosed Adhd: BREAKFAST (09:46)

Undiagnosed Adhd: Sorry caps lock (09:46)

Old Man: be there in under 10 (09:47)

The mess hall was on the complete opposite side of the Defiance from Spears office. Meaning Smith could either walk all the way around the ship looping past munitions, around the medbay, and finally reach the mess hall or cut through the center taking the observation bridge that connects both sides of the ship. A long stretch of nothing but glass walls and space. Against his better judgment he decided not to keep the kid waiting.

He walked out of Spears' office, turned right, and made his way towards the bridge. 

He did his best to block out his intrusive thoughts as he walked. Spears knew, Spears knew he was unraveling. “Compromised”, the word kept repeating itself in his head. Maybe he should tell Spears what was going on. He was a danger to the rest of the crew. If the plants were in his head could they read his thoughts? Is he jeopardizing the entire Defiance? No, no. That’s not it. He’s exhausted, stressed. His mind is playing tricks on him. He thought back on the countless straight jacket moments he saw during basic. This must have been one of those. 

It was a nice thought that he was actually starting to buy until he made it about halfway across the observation bridge. Something kept telling him to look right. Look out of the window. He gave in.

From the midway point of the bridge, smack in the center of his view… Canis Major. He had all but forgotten his realization from the night before. His memory was clouded by the sedative he took to fall asleep. But the moment he locked eyes with that celestial body it all came flooding back. He frantically started counting the stars.

“1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8… No, no that can’t be right. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8… No fucking way.” He counted on his fingers at least a dozen more times to be sure. Dragging his pointer along the cold glass to play connect the dogs with the constellation. 

8 stars. There are 8 main stars in Canis Major. 8 big bright ones easy to spot. Don’t have to squint, or cock your head sideways to see them. They were picked out by the Greeks way before satellites, advanced imaging, or even telescopes were available. Just armed with the naked eye. And there, pinched between Sirius and Miriam. There, floating out in space, maybe even looking right at them. There it was. A 9th star. 

The words echoed in his head. 

“It won’t be long now. Just be a good boy and wait for us okay?” 

It wasn’t a dream, the Affini were coming. The weight of it hit him all at once. He had to get off of the observation bridge right now. He could feel them watching him. His breathing picked up with quick paced audibly harsh breaths as he tried to stop himself from hyperventilating and falling into a full panic attack. He jogged the length of the bridge pretending he had blinders on. There was a monster under the bed and he was refusing to look. The moment he exited the walkway he turned around and punched the door controls as fast as he could. As if one of those horrors of vines and thorns was barreling down the bridge behind him. Not that the door would have stopped it. Just like you are no more safe for rushing those last few steps from a dark hallway into the light of your room at night, Smith was no more safe for pushing that little speck of light out of view.

The ship had to be huge, or close, or both. There’s no way it hadn’t made their position yet so what was it waiting for. Was it fucking with him, was Sarah fucking with him. 

Oh yeah Smith it’s all a conspiracy against you. Listen to yourself.

No or maybe it hadn’t. The defiance was sure not to stay in one spot for too long and on top of its other crowning achievements the thing barely popped up on a radar. Something about the reflector panels of something or another. Sarah had explained it to him but he’d forgotten by now. No, they were flushing out all their hidey holes. The stations they docked at to resupply, the planets where they took shore leave. That’s the only thing it could be. Cat and mouse, except the mouse is oblivious to the fact it’s being hunted. All except for Smith anyways.

He pulled the data pad back out of his pocket, there was something he had to check. He grabbed the names of the last few stations where they had docked. They weren’t “rebel” stations. There weren’t any rebel stations, it wasn't safe enough to sit still that long. But there were rebel sympathizers. Contacts they had made willing to smuggle them supplies and feed them information on Affini movement. Sarah would have known each and every one of them by name. He looked for the latest activity from their contacts at each station. 

Station Echo 3: inactive 2 months, 3 weeks

Station Weavers Orbit: inactive 1 month, 1 week

Station Seventh Sister: inactive 1 week, 3 days 

A perfect triangle around the Defiance. The Affini had an approximate location.

“Damn it, Sarah…” 

Smith slumped his back against the wall sliding all the way down until he was sitting on the floor with his legs propped up bent at the knees. There was no dread or anger or anxiety. He felt empty. Numb to it all. Like the last few seconds before a car crash. It’s just the feeling of realization. The feeling of “Wow this is actually happening.” He sighed, dropping his head into his hands and dragging his fingers down his face as if he was trying to pull it off. 

“Damn it…”

The static in his head was interrupted by a familiar buzz.

Undiagnosed Adhd: did you get lost (10:03)

Old Man: Meet me in observation. (10:03)

Undiagnosed Adhd: Meet this dick in ur mouth lol (10:04)

Undiagnosed Adhd: jk why tho? (10:05)

Old Man: Just get here. (10:05)

Undiagnosed Adhd: k on my way (10:05) 

He was starting to get spacey. The data pad slid out of his hands and landed on his thigh. His eyes drooped shut as his head leaned back against the wall. His body demanded rest if just for a moment while he waited for his friend. He slowly drifted off.