[A]She found she didn’t much like the quiet.

  Which was a conflicting feeling, seeing as she didn’t like the noises either. They made her nervous and she much preferred to avoid them. Moose could handle whatever the noises were. When she fully became a moose, then she could go find out. Until then, she was happy to hide behind Moose and let things py out.

  That was the problem though.

  Moose always handled the noises. He always handled everything.

  And if he was off handling something, he wasn’t there with her.

  The ck of his presence was always so … silent. All she could hear was her own heartbeat. And the noises, on occasion. When he was nearby, she could hear his breathing. Or hear him walking or talking or doing magic. Even when she slept, her ear to his chest brought her a constant stream of sound from him. To be without that sound, things were so quiet.

  So empty.

  She had dealt with the emptiness before. Had used the things Moose gave her to overcome it. She had used Moose to overcome it. So how did she overcome it without him? The new creature didn’t have magic. It didn’t have much of anything, always following either her or Moose. Never using its own mind. Not to mention that the creature took Moose’s time away. Even if the creature fell back or didn’t try to contest her, it was inevitable that Moose would need to spend some of his time on it.

  Making food took longer, even if not by much. The rain room took longer, the creature needing more care. Settling in for sleep took longer, as more bodies took time to arrange. Even her time with Moose in the strange room he had taken to spending much of his attention on could be cut short. She much enjoyed sitting on Moose, listening to words or sounds. Doing her best to train Moose to listen to her as well. The heat and tingles she took in were what kept the cold at bay.

  Kept the emptiness back.

  But even that time wasn’t safe. Should the creature come to need something, or any new routine happen, her time sitting on Moose would end. She didn’t care to count how many times she had been told by Moose to help the creature with some small thing or other. Even worse when it was something she had no interest in.

  Why should she have to help the creature relieve itself in a rain room? Why should she have to guide the creature to that odd area for bedsheets? As if the creature had no ability to do things itself, she was told to accompany it. She wouldn’t be surprised if next she would need to carry it around like her trinket.

  Why did Moose dote on this little creature?

  Had he grown bored? Found her ck of turning into a moose to be a failure?

  Had she failed?

  She could give the creature a grudging acknowledgement. Every command was followed, even if most of them required more expnation. The creature didn’t stop until it colpsed, even if that didn’t take long. The creature was not smart or sturdy or fast or even all that impressive. But that didn’t seem to be from a ck of trying. The creature almost reminded her of herself. The time before she had met Moose. When she had been watched by the Others.

  When she had been alone.

  It had been the only reason she had not rebuked the creature. It was almost painfully clear to her that the creature was empty. She could see it in the eyes. In the way it stood and walked and acted. An emptiness she recognized. One that scared her.

  Had this been what she looked like before, a tiny pathetic shell?

  She might begrudge every moment that the creature stole Moose from her, but the painful reminders always kept her quiet. It was better for the creature to understand what it was depriving her of.

  Maybe then it would stop being so needy.

  She had no idea how long the creature had been with them. The female. Moose beled her ‘Pup’, something about ‘girl’ being wrong? It had been a confusing conversation. What was wrong with the bel ‘girl’? She guessed it didn’t matter much, one bel the same as another.

  ‘Pup is easier to speak, maybe that’s why it’s better?’

  Easy magic for a small creature. It made sense.

  She was sitting on Moose, idly listening to the sounds as she watched the lights dance about. She would never give up the chance while they were both in this strange room, even if she didn’t much like it down here. It always chilled her skin, made her tense. Stealing heat from Moose was the only solution. She enjoyed the tingles as well, even if they had changed a bit recently. She knew the creature was responsible for that, though didn’t know why or how. She thought they felt more… intense… though that wasn’t really the best word. Worse she didn’t know if it was some scheme of the creature or simply a change in herself.

  She watched the lights fsh a bit and turned her thoughts to the creature again. Something that had been happening often.

  “Uni…………ip, thi……….ity off……….. Respo………….ance or be t……………... I repeat….”

  She perked up at the sound. As did both Moose and Pup. There was a great deal of noise and crackling, making the words basically useless. Moose shifted under her and she braced as she slid to the floor when he rose. Walking over to an area with rapidly blinking lights, he started doing something. Likely magic to make the words better.

  “Unidentified ship, this is…….ity off……….. Respond ……….ance or be t………as a…... I repeat….”

  ‘Hmm, more words but still basically useless.’

  “Transtion isn’t working. Please repeat in a different nguage.”

  Moose rumbled into the air near the area he was in. She didn’t understand anything he said outside of ‘Please’, but he was clearly doing something.

  “Unidentif……….., transmit…………ived but ……..lligible. Please re………………..nized g……….mat.”

  ‘Guess the magic isn’t working right.’

  Moose did some more things, then motioned to her. She padded over and gave him a quizzical look.

  “Kitty. Speak. Other words.”

  He motioned to the air afterwards.

  ‘Other words? Like with the creature?’

  “Speak, what words? Not using good.”

  “Unidentified ……………. received. What’s n………..d? Plea…………….red communication format.”

  As Moose worked the crackles lessened a lot. The words came in but she still had no idea what they meant.

  “I think they want us to pick a better radio channel.”

  Both she and Moose looked at the creature as it spoke.

  ‘Did the creature know what the words were supposed to be? Why is she smart now?’

  Rather than try and figure that out, she simply picked up the creature. She was a little heavier than she looked, but it wasn’t much effort to pce her in the raised sitting area near Moose. Waving her hand she passed the command on.

  “Know, then you speak.”

  Looking at Moose she nodded.

  There that problem was solved.

  [*]She hated her post.

  Her superiors might have called the station a construction outpost, but she didn't see it that way. All she saw was an old, broken-down piece of junk. Ready to crumble into the orbit of the world it circled above, not that the pnetoid deserved that title either. Always more problems than it was worth.

  She didn't mind the slow days at the helm. Didn't mind it when nothing happened for weeks on end. She didn't even mind the accommodations or poor food selection. In fact, the ck of paperwork and the ck of excitement was a good thing in her mind. Nobody wanted an exciting day on a military ship.

  No, what she hated the most was that Command insisted that she keep appearances up. That morale was important. She could certainly see the use when fighting pirates. But those were few and far between. The things she had to deal with most on a daily basis were unruly transport captains. But even while they always insisted on being difficult, they were still w abiding citizens.

  They never needed more than a stern warning.

  ‘I hope something breaks up this dull shift. I think I drifted off there.’

  Despite her better sense, she sometimes gave in and wished for something to brighten her day. A little something that didn’t need more paperwork but broke up the tedium.

  What she didn't want was a massive ship bristling with weapons to drop out of the void.

  “Commander. No identification markings and no hails.”

  Maybe she wasn't the only one looking for a little excitement. Her crew hardly needed to be told what to do. Already working on all of the things that she would have needed to tell them.

  “Hail them on all frequencies and open the channel.

  “Yes, ma'am. Contact when ready.”

  “Unidentified ship. This is Security Officer Krikra. Respond with clearance or be targeted as a hostile.

  “Navigation. Bring us around, weapons officers bring the weapons online.

  “Receiving a signal, ma'am.”

  She listened to static come through the radio. The static was broken only by rumbling. Clearly a nguage, but one she didn't recognize. It certainly wasn't one of the recognized gactic common nguages. And it definitely wasn't something designated for ship communications.

  “Unidentified ship, transmission received but unintelligible. Please respond with a gactic recognized communication format.”

  “Ma’am, we're having trouble keeping an open channel.”

  This was quite the strange encounter. She didn't really know how to proceed. None of the manuals ever really trained for something like this. Large ships with weapons usually attacked. She wasn't used to them trying to talk but not being able to. She couldn't exactly be aggressive if they weren't.

  “Do we have any more information or identification on the ship?

  “No ma’am, we are trying to request ship logs now.”

  “Ma'am, incoming communication.”

  “Spe……..t words? No………..good.”

  “Can we clean that up?”

  “We're trying ma’am, but it's not going well.”

  Now what was she supposed to do. It was clear something was wrong with the other ship. It was also clear that they weren’t being aggressive. Yet. But there was nothing she could do while they were having trouble communicating.

  “Are we still transmitting?”

  “Yes ma’am. You have control.”

  “Unidentified Ship, transmission received. What’s no good? Please switch to a gactic recognized communication format.”

  She had never needed to stress that before. Even the pirates were considerate enough to use standard communication formats. Was this an uncontacted species? If this was a first contact scenario, she was far outside her depths.

  “I want anyone not doing something important to prepare for possible first contact or lost ship protocols.

  “Communications, do your best to clear that signal. You have full resources.”

  Several ‘Yes ma’ams’ proceeded a flurry of activity. She wanted nothing more than to go back and chastise her earlier self for wanting ‘excitement’. Or maybe chastise the universe for way overestimating what excitement was supposed to be.

  “Line connected ma’am. Communications should be cleared!”

  Before she could take a breath to do anything the line crackled to life.

  “Umm, hello?”

  “Unidentified ship. This is Security Officer Krikra. Identify yourself and send communication protocols.”

  At least the use of gactic trade mostly ruled out a first contact scenario. It was a nguage used by pretty much all spacers, something simple that most lifeforms could use and was easily transted for those that couldn’t. The unprofessionalism was something else entirely.

  Some more rumbling came across the line.

  “Uh, I don’t know how to say that word. What are protocols and how do I send them?”

  That….. wasn’t good.

  The girl on the other side of the radio didn’t sound that old either.

  “Young dy, please find someone who knows what they are doing and have them come talk to us alright?”

  She waited, listening to the static.

  “I um, I don’t think I can do that.”

  That really wasn’t good.

  “Young dy, are you alone on the bridge right now?”

  She might be able to handle unruly transport officers, but she was woefully unequipped to coach a girl through ship communications when it sounded like she shouldn’t even be on the bridge to begin with.

  “No.”

  Oh, good. That scared her for a moment.

  “I don’t think anyone else can talk to you though.”

  She felt her organs drop out through her legs.

  “Get me a status on those weapons.”

  She now had an unconfirmed girl in charge of something that looked like it could be a ship-of-the-line. If she was the only one capable of moving on that ship it would be a disaster. Especially if they needed to get close.

  “Weapons are powered ma’am, but they seem to be in standby.”

  A disaster then. This was not excitement, this was torture.

  ‘I am never wishing again.’

  “Young dy, have you ever seen them bring the ship into dock? Or have any experience on the bridge?”

  “Um, No?”

  There it was.

  Her st hope shot down.