“I was ten years old, or maybe eleven. We were about two months into the year, and I was still getting used to the layout of the repair stations. After each shift I liked to wander and see where my access level could get me. Our trainers had shown us where our areas were, but I had noticed that some doors they didn’t point out would still open for me, so I was curious. It was pretty late, maybe ten minutes before lights out. There was this corridor I hadn’t checked out before because it was the furthest away from everything else. Thought it could have something interesting, y’know?

“There were a couple storerooms, bathrooms, just the usual stuff. No one else was there. It all just looked like tools and spare parts got put there when they broke or nobody needed them any more. Nothing but empty grey corridors, not even any advertisements. Sometimes it costs more to dispose of things than to just find an empty wing, right? Stations always had more space than people to fill them. Eventually I got to the last door of the corridor. Just like every other door, I put my hand up to the reader, and it slid open just fine, but this room was occupied.”

…

Everyone froze. There were seven adults in the room, all staring right at me. I was sure I had seen most of them around the station. All wore the usual dark grey and black station jumpsuits, but they had different colored badges, meaning they worked in different sectors. Some were in the middle of packing things into crates (“They told me it was munitions, but… well, I’ll get to it”), some were bent over a table that had what looked to be blueprints on its surface. No one should have been in these rooms. Even at my young age I could tell something was wrong, and we were constantly told that suspicious behavior might be separatist activity. I took a subconscious step backwards, ready to run, but one of them spoke up. 

“Wait! Wait, just a second,” he said, raising his hands in a nonthreatening gesture. 

He looked to be an older Canid, in his forties (“Maybe? It’s always hard to tell when you’re that young”), with plenty of long grey hair around his muzzle. His badge identified him as Terry, in janitorial. 

Taking a few steps towards me, he said, “We’re just doing a little inventory back here. Did someone ask you to check on us?”

I shook my head silently. It didn’t look like the usual inventory counting I’d seen others do, but his voice was gentler than the tone other adults used with children. Maybe he was telling the truth, but I was still wary. We just looked at each other until he realized that was all he was going to get from me. 

Terry squatted to get closer to my eye level. “Just looking around then?” he asked with a chuckle. 

Staring owlishly, I nodded, but still was unable to offer anything more. A few of the people inside visibly relaxed, but one person at the table straightened up. He was a Potamid, with a bulbous snout, small ears, and a wide but powerful looking body. Compared to me, he was a giant.

“Shut the door, they’ve already seen too much,” he said, with a deep and gravelly voice.

Something about the way he said it made me start to shiver in fear. The Canid made a face and turned his head back to speak to the Potamid. “And do what, Bill? Are we gonna send them off to–”

‘Bill’ slammed the table with an open palm, making me flinch. “Don’t discuss the plan in front of outsiders!” he shouted. “You’ll get us killed!”

“For what it’s worth, it was already over when that door opened,” Terry said. He turned back to me with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry about him, you’re not in trouble. It’s close to lights out for you kids, right?”

I nodded again, still shaking.

“Alright, well listen,” Terry said, gesturing at one of the people packing boxes, who started to rummage for something. “We’re gonna let you go, but you can’t go telling anyone what you saw here. We’re just trying to help some people, we aren’t hurting anyone– ah, thanks.”

The last was said to the person from before, handing the Canid something, who then held it out to me. It was a Vander Pop, a prized treat among the kids on the station. I started to reach for it, but he pulled it away at the last second.

“Ah, ah, you have to promise you won’t say anything,” he said, raising an admonishing finger. “We need to make sure these supplies get to where they need to go.”

He was definitely talking about separatist activity, but he said he wasn’t going to hurt anyone, and I was easily swayed by the promise of candy. I nodded with fervor. The Canid chuckled and handed me the Vander Pop. “I can tell you’re smart,” he said, ruffling my hair. “Keep that hidden for now. You can eat it in bed.”

“Terry…” Bill cautioned.

“They’re just a kid, Bill,” Terry said, standing up. He looked drained. Something was weighing on him, but I was far too young to understand the gravity of the situation. “We don’t have much choice. Just gotta work quickly.”

“Blessed help us…” Bill muttered. 

Terry frowned, then nodded his head at me, gesturing towards the corridor. “Go on. Don’t be late for roll call.”

I nodded and scampered away, clutching my newly acquired treat close. There should have been plenty of time for me to get back to the kids dorms, as long as I hurried. Unfortunately, as I was trying to do that and stuff the Vander Pop into my sleeve at the same time, I turned a corner at the end of the hall and ran face first into a patrolling station guard’s legs. The pop went skittering across the floor, while I bounced off the guard and landed on my butt.

“Hey! You’re not supposed to be here,” the guard said. They didn’t say it unkindly, but the way guards spoke – and the modulation on their helmets – always put me on edge.  “Lights out is in two minutes. What were you– where did you get that?” 

I turned to look where the guard was pointing, and saw the Vander Pop. The shaking began again as I realized I would have to lie, something I had only ever done once, and so poorly I was immediately called out and punished. “I– I– Um– Ah–” I tried.

“Quiet,” the guard snapped, and pulled me roughly to my feet. “Only one place you could have come from. Which room’s got your little stash?”

Frozen to the spot, I couldn’t think of what to say. If I told him a random room, he would find out the lie immediately. If I told him where Terry and the others were, they’d be upset with me too. I promised.

“I j-just found it…” I stammered. “I don’t have a stash.”

“Of course not,” the guard said, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Just stay here. Not many rooms, I’ll find it myself. Then we’ll see what the Station Manager wants to do with you.”

The guard collected the offending candy from the ground, then began to make his way down the corridor, one door at a time. All I could do was watch, helpless, as he got closer and closer to the people at the end. I wanted to warn them. If they were really separatists, why were they trying to help people? Maybe I could dash back to the door while the guard was searching a room, but they definitely weren’t doing something they were supposed to do. What would happen if the guard thought I was a part of it? 

Then, a head poked out of the door at the end.  Terry looked around, spotted me alone at the end of the hall, and waved his hand in a shooing motion with a frown. I waved frantically, trying as hard as I could to convey the danger that was coming. Terry waved back with a befuddled expression, clearly not understanding. 

I gave up. “There’s–!” I began to shout, but stopped just as suddenly.

The guard had come out of the room he had been searching at the same time I shouted. He and Terry both saw each other.

…

“And that was it,” I said. “The guard called for backup, and Terry’s group was arrested. They nearly arrested me too, but I guess Terry told them I wasn’t actually a part of it. Just a stupid kid…”

I trailed off, lost in thought about that night. I could still see Terry’s face as he was marched past me, surrounded by station guards. Bill just looked angry at me, but Terry’s expression was as gentle as when he was handing me the Vander Pop. He knew it was my fault, but the smile he directed towards me was full of forgiveness, which hurt all the more. I felt awful recounting the memory, but if Nate was going to believe me, he had to know.

“What was really in the boxes?” Nate asked. “If it wasn’t weapons, I mean. You said you’d get back to it.”

Trying to bring myself back to the present, I shook my head. “They got the Vander Pop from one of them,” I said. “I’m pretty sure it was all just food.”

“Oh,” Nate said. He took some time to think before speaking again, and when he did, his tone was dour. “So this is what Blessed Lawsek meant by ‘possible ties to separatist groups’.”

“Passed over for promotions, constantly scrutinized,” I said, my own voice bitter. “I always struggled to make friends, because when I got to a new station, word got around faster than I could get to know anyone. I had friendly enough coworkers, but you were the first real friend I’ve ever had.”

Nate suddenly looked very guilty. “Um. Since we’re getting everything out on the table,” he said, “I have to confess something.”

My whole body began to tense up. “Nate…” I said. “Please don’t…”

“The first time we met, it was because I was asked by my superiors to keep an eye on you, and report on suspicious activity,” he said, forcing himself to look me in the eye. “They told me to try to earn your trust any way I could. But then I found I really liked you!” 

The last was spoken quickly, when he saw how distressed I was becoming. Hot tears were welling up and running down the right side of my face, the left being caught by my eyepatch.

“You were just so friendly, and I liked your jokes,” he continued, desperately trying to save whatever this explanation was becoming. “But that’s why I was able to follow you from one station to another. The second station is when I really felt like you had become my friend. I thought maybe I could shield you from that scrutiny if we became a couple, so I–”

I shot up out of my chair, my whole body shaking with anxiety, disgust, and I couldn’t tell what else. Nate recoiled slightly and stopped talking, aware that he might have gone too far. The thought that our relationship had been even partially a lie was almost too much. My breathing was short, I felt unbalanced. Somewhere in my head was Dr. Skisk’s warning not to yell at Nate, and their proximity to the two of us. That, combined with their compound eye’s illusion of always looking right at me, kept me from screaming in Nate’s face. Instead, I forced a deep breath. In… and out. Still shaky, still furious, but just a little more balanced.

“D-Don’t say an-nother word,” I managed, through gritted teeth. “I… I don’t…”

There was too much to address, and too much emotion coursing through me. I took the only option available, and ran from the medbay.