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her.
    “Ah,”
she mumbled, realising her pause had become uncomfortably long,
“fine. I mean, they fixed me up,” she added awkwardly.
    “Do
you remember what happened?” he now asked, dropping his tone as
several cadets walked past them.
    She
stopped.
    She
was about to say she had just fallen over, and it was nothing to
worry about, but as she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't come
out.
    Instead, sudden blue flashes filled her mind, like fireflies
dancing frantically at the corners of her vision.
    She
shook her head when she realised she couldn’t just stand there with
her mouth open looking dumbstruck, and offered what she hoped was a
reassuring smile. “That kind of stuff always happens to me. I'm
really sorry,” she added, “about your scanner.”
    He
laughed. It was an odd move. It was as if he wasn't sure whether he
should chuckle at her, but couldn't quite stop himself. “It's okay.
It wasn't exactly mine. I had another one built as soon as we got
back to the Orion.”
    She
smiled, sucking at her teeth as she did in what was perhaps the
geekiest move she could make.
    She
couldn’t help herself.
    Because, well, this . . . was weird. And
awkward, really, hideously awkward.
    “Sorry
again,” she managed, backing off, realising she had to get away
before she tripped over her own legs and crumpled at his
feet.
    Then
she heard a voice behind her.
    One
that rumbled up like a volcano splitting the earth.
    Commander Sharpe.
    She
winced again, this time as if she were about to be chopped in
half.
    Because likely she would be.
    She
turned to see him march up beside her.
    “Late
again,” he said tersely, “do you deliberately go out of your way to
earn reprimands from me?”
    She
wanted to ask whether he deliberately went out of his way to
torture her, but she held her tongue. “No, sir,” she answered,
knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. “I
just . . . ,” she trailed off. She could come
up with all sorts of outlandish excuses, like being chased by
mercenaries, or waking up on a foreign planet and having to find
her way back to class in a jiffy. They were all lies though. But at
least they’d hide the truth, because the truth was truly
pathetic.
    She
had overslept.
    “Don't
bother,” Sharpe sighed heavily, “just report to detention, again,”
he spoke to her with a long-suffering tone, and shot her a look
that made it clear he was sick of dealing with her
antics.
    She
turned around glumly, barely noticing as Blake offered her a
friendly, commiserating smile.
    Her
heart sunk at how much trouble she was about to get in.
    What
was worse, she had a mound of assignments. It had taken her longer
than usual to bounce back from her fall on Remus 12. The broken
bone had knitted quickly, and the medical team had dealt with the
concussion as fast as Coalition doctors could. But it had taken her
several days of rest until her mind had come back to
her.
    For
those several days a strange fog had descended over her, and the
doctors had explained it away by theorising she was just tired and
stressed.
    Now,
she was even more tired and even more stressed.
    Walking to her next class, she settled into a melancholic
slump.
    The
rest of the day passed, thankfully without further incident, and
soon enough she found herself back in her quarters.
    She
did not enter her apartment to peace, however, for Alicia was
running around frantically.
    As
soon as Nida entered, Alicia snapped up, her expression filling
with relief. “There you are. I was worried you would never return.
Now you can help me clean,” she announced at once. “This place is a
tip.”
    Nida
stood there for a moment, raising her eyebrow slightly. She didn't
exactly have the gumption to point out to Alicia that there was
nothing stopping the woman from cleaning up after herself. Because
one look around this room would confirm that every dirty dish,
mound of clothes, or pile of data pads on the couch belonged to
Alicia. Nida cleaned up after herself,