“Dixon, wait up a second. You have some letters,” Jana called to him as he rushed through the hallway.

  Fletcher paused and looked back at her. “Supplies came in days ago. Why am I just now getting them?” He was eager to get downstairs to his garden now that they had seeds. The garden beds were built and filled with dirt, and the water system was set up so that it reused as much water as it could. Unfortunately it was a rather flawed system so Fletcher anticipated he’d have to go out on water runs at least once a week to keep their plants hydrated.

  She laughed. “Famalo is over organizing it. We can’t all be as productive as you Lieutenant Neat-Freak.”

  “Right.” He held his hand out to take the stack of envelopes. “Thanks for delivering these.”

  “Anytime. I’m always happy to see that handsome face of yours.” She winked and walked away.

  Fletcher shoved the letters in his inside jacket pocket, only reading the address on the top most one. From his father, of course. It’d been two months since they last spoke, two months since Fletcher arrived at Vesi. It felt like time had flown by so quickly, but at the same time, each day lasted a lifetime.

  Yet Fletcher stayed busy. It’d taken a whole month to clean the whole station, but after that, he’d found himself with too much free time, even with the garden project and his three-times-a-week patrols to visit Backup—not that he mentioned the dog to any of the others. That was his secret. Instead, he let them believe that he really was out patrolling the city ruins.

  Which he was. Just also while caring for his sort-of pet.

  But with the cleaning to the point he only had to maintain things, he moved onto another project—fixing things. He’d learned quite a few handy skills by trial and error with building the garden beds and the UV light system and the water system, so he decided to move on to slightly tougher projects like repairing vents and wiring and even fixing the holes and cracks in the concrete.

  The others noticed his efforts, but they didn’t do anything to help. He was just grateful they didn’t do anything to hamper his work either, and the worst he dealt with was teasing about being a neat-freak or OCD and the likes.

  Fletcher jogged down the stairs, half smiling as he admired his own work. The station really was looking better, and even if the rest of the personnel didn’t assist him in improving it, he did think it made a difference to them. The shared areas were less messy each time he went around to clean, and he noticed people actually picking up their own trash and throwing it away instead of letting it build up in corners. It was nice to think that maybe he was doing some good at Vesi after all.

  “Lieutenant,” George said as he entered the storage room turned hydroponics center. “I got the soil ready, just like you showed me.”

  Fletcher glanced at the first garden bed and nodded. “Great work, George.” The [Insectoid] was precise in creating the trenches and holes for each of the seeds. It’d only taken a little example to show the [Insectoid] what needed to happen to all dozen of the beds to prepare for the planting.

  “Are you going to plant the seeds now?” George asked, his pincer mouth clicking in anticipation. He was probably as excited as Fletcher to start the process of growing food and test out all their makeshift systems.

  “No. We’re going to plant the seeds now,” Fletcher corrected him. George was always so nervous about trying new things, convinced he was going to mess things up. So he was making a big effort to teach George lots of skills and involve him in every part of the process. It was good for Fletcher too since it allowed him to keep his teaching skills up, and he still had hope that after his stint in the military he’d be able to go back to education.

  “I don’t know how. It’s such an important step. You should just do it,” the [Insectoid] argued.

  “Come on. Let me show you.” Fletcher went to the single crate of supplies they received three days prior when Captain Walters did her bi-monthly drop. Most of the space was taken up by the seed potatoes he requested, and then a few bags of seeds were squished in there as well. He picked up the tomato seeds and went to the first garden bed where George waited.

  “Okay. It’s easy. You just drop the seed in and then cover it with dirt.” Fletcher completed the actions as he spoke them, spreading the soil over the seed.

  George’s multitude of red eyes stared at him. “And that will grow into food?”

  “It’ll grow into a tomato plant which will produce tomatoes that we can eat,” he explained. “But we have to water it and make sure it gets enough light. If this was all we did, it would die.”

  “And start a new life?” George asked.

  “No. Seeds don’t get that kind of thing. It would just be dead.” Fletcher smiled at him and handed him the seed packet. “Okay. Space them out about eight inches. I’ll start on the potatoes.”

  “Yes, Lieutenant,” the [Insectoid] replied, already digging the next seed out with his spindly fingers.

  Returning to the crate, Fletcher grabbed out several of the potatoes and his knife. Luckily he had to grow potatoes for a school project as a kid so he remembered how to do this part since they weren’t like regular seeds. Chopping it up, he made sure each chunk had at least one eye on it with a little sprout, and then he went to the next garden bed and began planting them.

  He and George worked in silence for well over an hour as they planted as many seeds as they could fit in the space. They had plenty left over—except for the potatoes since Fletcher used all of those—which they set on one of the shelves they left in the room for storage.

  “Okay. Now we have to water them. Turn the irrigation on,” Fletcher said, giving George the honor of the first official use of their water system.

  The [Insectoid] nervously clicked his mouth as he did as he was told. Small streams of water flooded through the trenches George previously dug, ensuring all the seeding got a nice even drink. After enough time passed, Fletcher instructed the [Insectoid] to turn it off.

  “And now what?” George eagerly asked.

  Fletcher smiled. “We wait.”

  “An hour? A day?”

  “Weeks. It’ll take time. But we can check on the plants tomorrow. For now we can take a break.”

  “Very well.” George backed away. “Should I prepare more garden beds, just in case?”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “No, George. Take a break. You’ve worked hard on this. You should do something fun, something you enjoy,” Fletcher said.

  The [Insectoid] stared at the ground. “I don’t know what I enjoy, Lieutenant.”

  Fletcher sucked his cheeks. Right. George used to be a Human, but after being converted, he lost all memories of himself. “Uh, well, you’ll have to try some stuff out and figure out what you like. Experiment a bit.”

  “What do you like to do?”

  “Read,” he said reflexively before he could even think about it. “And running.”

  “Running is exercise, I thought,” George replied.

  “It is, but I still like to do it,” Fletcher said. “What about you? What have you done that you like doing?”

  The [Insectoid] shuffled on his feet awkwardly. “I, uh, enjoy being around you, Lieutenant. And I enjoy building things. It makes me feel like I have purpose.”

  He nodded. “Okay. Well why don’t you try building something for fun?”

  “A garden bed,” George said.

  Fletcher chuckled. “No. Something else. Something that isn’t for anything, just because you want to. Maybe a sculpture or a piece of furniture.”

  The [Insectoid] frowned at him—a frown best that Fletcher could tell amongst the bug-like features. “I… don’t know.”

  “Give it a try. See if you enjoy it,” he encouraged the Unhuman.

  “Very well. As you wish, Lieutenant,” George said.

  Fletcher wanted to argue about this being George’s choice, not his, but he figured if the [Insectoid] was willing to give it a shot, it didn’t matter much either way.

  “Okay. Cool. Use any of the spare supplies in the other room. I’m going to head out. I have some other things to check on. I’ll see you tomorrow after my patrol, George.” Fletcher waved at the [Insectoid] who ducked his head as Fletcher left the room.

  He should have gone back to his room and read through the letters he received from home. That’s what a normal person would do after months of almost no contact with their family.

  But Fletcher was too nervous to open them. What if his dad was still mad? As tough as he’d grown with all the military training, he still wasn’t ready to read an entire letter of his own father—the only parent he’d ever really known—trashing him for his choice to come to Vesi Station.

  But then again, what if his dad apologized? And then wrote a bunch of nice things that Fletcher did want to hear? That would definitely be worth reading.

  Only he didn’t know which one it would be. And he wouldn’t know until he opened it. So rather than take the risk, Fletcher decided to not worry about it yet. His day was far from over. He still had some holes to patch up on the first floor, and he needed to make a game plan for organizing all the closets. He had a pretty good idea of what resources they had laying around the base, but the whole system was a mess so he figured he might as well fix it and then give updated lists of where to find things to everyone. That would make their lives easier, and it gave him more to do, something he was always on the lookout for.

  Fletcher first used the last of the concrete he made up earlier to fix up the last few holes in the first hallway, and then he did the other projects he’d created for himself, determined to stay too busy to think about the letters he carried with him.

  He supposed part of the reason he was avoiding them was due to guilt. Despite having written a letter to his dad at least once a week since arriving, he didn’t send a single one. He couldn’t. Not yet. He didn’t know why, but he wasn’t ready to send them and open up like that about his struggles and successes. But that wasn’t a good excuse. He even penned a letter of complete fluff to his father just to have something he could send, but that too waited back in his room. Maybe he was just a coward, too afraid to face the world outside of Vesi.

  Fletcher shook his head and refocused on his task. There would be time to waste thinking about letters and his soul later. He needed to finish this by the end of day or else he’d have to punish himself.

  Since there wasn’t any kind of discipline at Vesi Station, Fletcher had to enforce his own punishments on himself, making himself run an extra mile whenever he deemed he screwed up. He didn’t try to enforce anything on the enlisted, and they had their own set of rules that they all played by. Jana slept, flirted, and gambled, hanging out in the barracks or napping in her office at all hours of the day. As for Palacios, all Fletcher knew was that he drank alone in his office. But that was it. True to his word, he hadn’t bothered the Major since getting his request for seeds granted. When it came to his projects to reorganize the closets or fix things up around the station, he did it without asking permission, and so far no one told him to stop.

  It was late evening by the time Fletcher finished his detailed outline of how he wanted to organize all the spare supplies. His stomach growled, reminding him that he needed to stop for dinner on his way back to his room.

  Passing through the mess hall, a small smile crossed his lips that he quickly covered. Hugo, Hernandez, and Knezo sat at one of the tables together, eating and playing cards. Another group with Norton and some others was nearby as they ate and drank together. Ever since he got the room cleaned up, people had started using it again. Yeah. He was making a difference here. That felt good.

  Fletcher grabbed his rations for the night and then headed to his room. He was happy the others enjoyed the fruits of his labor, but he didn’t mingle with them. It didn’t feel right. Not because he was an officer, but because he was different from them. He couldn’t quite explain it, but he just didn’t fit in with them, and he never would. Maybe it was the trauma from the cycat talking, but Fletcher didn’t make a big effort to socialize outside of George and occasionally Jana. He interacted with Hugo and the others when learning hands-on skills like electrical from Kenzo or driving from Hernandez, but outside of that they didn’t associate. That’s how it was, and he decided that’s how it was meant to be.

  That was okay by him. He had George. And Backup. The dog was easily his closest friend even if he only got to go out and see him three times of week. It was always the highlight of his week. Plus he saw Trevor and her kids out there too. He’d been ecstatic to see the cycat out and about, once again healthy and recovered from her bullet injuries. It’d taken effort, but he’d learned her hunting habits and how to avoid getting in the way.

  Fletcher sat down at his desk with his food and unzipped his jacket, rediscovering the letters.

  Okay. He supposed it was time to deal with them now.

  Fletcher set the letters on the desk next to his meal and took a bit of food as he sifted through them.

  Five in total. One from his sister, one from Addy, and three from his father.

  He held the first of the three from his dad in his hand.

  Shaking his head, Fletcher set it back down and picked up the one from Nora. What on earth would she be writing to him about? Thinking of the options, he decided none of them were all that great. Nora only ever teased him, and he endured enough of that at Vesi.

  Setting that one to the side, he picked up the letter from Addy. Addy was always nice. She had positive things to say.

  But what if it wasn’t actually from her? Maybe his mom used her name to send it so no one saw him corresponding with a general. Or maybe that was Nora’s. Or one of his dad’s.

  The problem was Fletcher really didn’t want to hear from his mom. He didn’t want to hear from anyone. Vesi Station was a miserable place. He was only sane because he stayed too busy to think about the misery that surrounded him.

  And he could afford to start thinking about home and his family, things that very much made him regret coming to Vesi. Until he remembered the dream where he watched all his former Unhuman students and friends die by what might as well have been his hands.

  Then he was back to the awkward stage of hating life in general for the way things had gone. Then missing Beam, and Javier, and even Knarf. And Bren’it’p and Alcett and teaching and everything he had before the terrorist attack where he saw Addy again.

  Sighing, Fletcher tossed the letters in the drawer with the ones he never sent. Then he pulled out a paper and wrote another letter to his dad, talking about the garden and how torn he was about his choice to come to Vesi and how nervous he was to open the letters. And then that one too went with the unsent and unopened letters alongside the photo album. Fletcher decided that was enough for the day, so he finished his food and went to bed, dreaming of a life that was anything but the one he had.

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