As I was laying in the dark, I tried to take stock of the situation. I wasn't sure how long it had been since my previous canteen raid. A week, or perhaps two? I had moved base twice since then to avoid the maintenance drones, so I thought it must be somewhere between ten and twenty days, in any case.

Due to how close a call the last raid had turned out to be, and the fact that this 'Tom' guy had been suspicious about the hatch, I hadn't risked any more raids since then. Instead, I'd rationed the little food that I had in fact managed to take last time even more strictly than usual. As a consequence, the headaches and bouts of fatigue were worse than ever. Even then, my food stores wouldn't last for much longer.

If only the ship would dock at another waystation, or better yet, finish its patrol rotation. It had been around two months now, and the patrol ship still hadn't docked at any more waystations. I wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but I would have to get more supplies before my strength ran out. At least I still had regular access to water from the maintenance pipes. But it did not matter how tired I felt. This damned patrol ship was still out among the stars.

"Why can't you just dock somewhere already," I whispered in the darkness. The growls of my stomach was all I got for a reply.

As I lay there in the silent darkness, a phantom prickle ran up my arms. I let out a sigh and instinctively began scratching and rubbing up and down along the scars on my arms, fingers passing over the fractal patterns of scars running along the length of both arms, reaching almost from shoulder to wrist. They, along with a starburst-shaped scar on my right temple, were reminders of my foster parents.

Don't think about them now, I commanded myself while I continued to automatically scratch my arms, there's no point dwelling on the dead. It'd probably be better try to plan for the future. There was only one problem with that idea though. I didn't really know anything about what the future might be. Nothing concrete, anyway. Any thoughts about the future was little more than foggy fantasies.

Hopefully I could get to one of the core planets, like Duplus or even Mars. I could lose myself in the crowds there, make sure nobody from Heion could find me. Maybe I could even make something of myself. Truthfully though, I'd take pretty much anything. As long as I could keep my life and my freedom. They were the only real possessions I could remember having ever had, anyway. Unless you counted my collection of stuff that had been assembled from stolen junk, that is.

I thought I had gotten away, once. I had managed to get myself to Rygol III, one of the older colony planets. After centuries of terraforming measures, it even had a proper atmosphere with all sorts of things I'd never seen growing up on any other planet I had been to, such as rain. A few months after getting there however, I had met someone I had briefly grown up with on the first planet I could remember having grown up on. She was one of the only people I still remembered.

Chloe. Sitting in the silence of the maintenance tunnels, I realized with a shock that I hadn't thought about her once since I had fled Rygol III in the storage room of a short-range patrol vessel, much smaller than this one.

With nothing but silence and memories for company, I picked up the final quarter of a ration bar that I had been saving for just before my next raid, and let myself dwell on my last two memories of the girl who had come to represent the defining moments - and end - of both my childhood and my adolescence.

We had lived in the same ice-mining settlement after my foster parents had moved to get me away from where I had once lost my parents. I remembered nothing about my birth parents, I had been too young then. As it was, I barely remembered my first foster parents. I remembered Chloe though.

Back when we were in school together, her hair had been a vivid red, and her eyes green. That had absolutely fascinated me. I was not embarrassed to admit that I had a childish crush on her back then. I never really got to know much about her, though. I wasn't around long enough before I was moved again. I had ended up with new foster parents. The last memory I had of her was of a field trip we had gone on to some ice fields outside the habitation bubbles. I remembered being shoved into a space suit that was just a little too roomy for me, and being sat in the back of a glass-topped rover, shaking back and forth as we drove along the barren surface. The starry sky had been a sight, but I couldn't help sneaking looks at Chloe, stars and nebulas reflecting off her eyes.

Most of that trip was a blur, but I distinctly remember something had gone terribly wrong. Something had happened to a few of us, and I think one of the other kids died. Chloe had been one of those victims, and not in a subtle way. I had been sneaking another look at her, when her eyes had suddenly widened in surprise. I had felt something then, too. I could only suppose that was what had startled Chloe. For my part, I could still recall a sudden jolt, different from the shocks and shakings of the rover passing over the terrain, followed by a prickling feeling in the air that intensified into what felt like buzzsaws passing by me, missing me by a hair's edge. The rest... Was a blur. I could still recall seeing fire, hearing shouts and screams. I could remember the teachers fumbling with spacesuits and first aid kits, and the feel of small electrical pads being shoved into my hand. The shouts of instruction from one teacher as the other struggled to turn a defibrillator on. An intense feeling of dread, of seeing Chloe lifeless, pocked with angry red welts and scorchmarks. Blood trickling down my then small forearms as I myself tried my best to follow the instructions being shouted at me, then Chloe's body tensing while I was still holding the pads. The only other thing I recall from that day was Chloe's first breath afterwards, and a dead schoolmate.

I don't recall what happened after, but I must have been relocated to another planet. From then on it was all new faces, a new ground with new dirt, and a new sky with different stars. What followed were not good years.

I didn't see Chloe again. Not until that side street corner on Rygol, halfway over a dumpster's edge, trying to scrounge something roughly edible.

Given all that had happened in the intervening years, I didn't think I could be blamed for my surprise at seeing her again. Although much had changed since we last saw each other - even her hair had changed, having darkened to a deeper auburn color - I could still recognize her by the features of her face, and the look of her eyes. I was more surprised that she, too, seemed to recognize me.

She'd locked eyes with me, but had been forced to keep walking along with her group. Though they seemed to be of a similar age to us, I didn't recognize any of them. They had all been in the same uniform. Black pants and jackets, with red stripes along the seams and a single white line crossing the shoulder flaps. On their heads were military caps made in a similar style, with a glossy brim for shade.

My thinking back then had been that if she reported my presence to anyone, I risked somebody finding out what had happened to me. What I'd done. I'd be shipped back to Heion, to the void knows what end. I wouldn't - I couldn't - risk it.

I didn't dare try to sign up for another trip legitimately, like I'd done to get to Rygol III in the first place. The first crew had been willing to accept a no-name nobody, but with people who knew me milling about, I hadn't felt like I could risk it. That was the first time I'd tried to sneak aboard a military vessel. I hadn't known about the maintenance tunnels then, but after too many close calls and some practice with resorting to using my powers - I didn't really know what else I could really call it - I had truly gotten the hang of messing with electronic systems. That ship had stopped at a repair station though, so I had to switch to another vessel, where I'd been discovered after my maintenance tunnel 'mishap'.

Back in the maintenance tunnels of the here and now, I had finished my morsel. I would hopefully find some way to establish an identity there without pre-existing documents. I had none of my own. There had been no time to find them, and they were probably lost in the fire anyway. Not that I could have used them. The version of me was better off left for dead.

They'd have to have some sort of system for that sort of thing on the core worlds, right? I couldn't possibly be the only one ever to need to apply for fresh documentation from out on the frontier worlds.

So much for wanting to be in the Interstellar Navy.

I realized I had been lying in silence, staring into the dark. Whatever happened once I got to the next planet was a problem for after I got there. For now, my stomach gave another reminder that there was work to do.

As I shuffled through the tunnels on my way to the canteen, a nagging feeling tugged at me, but it couldn't be helped. I had to get something more to eat. I could only hope it would be the last time I'd have to try, before we got to a destination I could exit to. With suspicion seeming to mount among the crew, I'd even take another waystation over staying around in this ship for any longer than I had to.

It occurred to me that I should probably find another way in. They might be watching the hatch now.

Scooting through the maintenance tunnels was no more difficult than any other raids. If anything, it was easier. It wasn't that it was ever particularly pleasant to be part crouching, part crawling through the dully tense darkness, but at least it was the 'typical' kind of unpleasant. Things were quiet, and I only had to avoid three drones on the way.

I came to the canteen access hatch and began to root around. The second and third closest hatches were labeled "Communications" and "Storage V". The third was a good deal farther from where the canteen door would be. I also couldn't be sure how to get there, as the maintenance tunnels didn't follow the same pathways as the hallways above. On the other hand, a room meant for communication would surely be manned at all times. It didn't sound like the kind of room you just left alone when you were out in the middle of actual nowhere. My head throbbed with the effort of planning. Void it. Storage V it is.

The storage room hatch hadn't actually led into the storage room, but just outside it. The hallway was silent, though not the same type of silent as the maintenance tunnels. There were more sounds, like a background hum. After weeks or more of the more complete silence of the tunnels, the feeling was disorienting. I stood up to my full height for the first time in a long time, then immediately sat back down from dizziness. Standing back up more slowly, I took another moment just to stretch before I began walking to where I thought the canteen entrance would be. I didn't get very far however, before I heard footsteps from behind. They were quiet, barely perceptible. My mind immediately went into a frenzy, jumping from overthinking about why they would walk quietly and if they had been lying in ambush, to panicking about what to do and where to hide now the hatch was closed. My legs, meanwhile, made the probably good decision to begin running down the hall, away from the footsteps. I was trying to do so quietly across the metal floor, resulting in a sort of hasty lope. A small part of me - a part that wasn't busy being in a state of panic - thought that I probably looked ridiculous.

I turned the corner in the direction of where I thought the canteen would be.

Please don't going to the canteen, please don't be going to the canteen!

 I ran past two passages, into two others, each framed by an open security door, before reaching the canteen. Luckily, I'd been right. I lurched to a stop, and put a hand on the wall. My skin tingled in response to electrical cables on the far side of the wall panel. Dots swam in my vision, and I stumbled in place from dizziness. It took me a few moments to regain control of my senses. As I regained my senses, I stumbled along the corridor towards the canteen door, fingers trailing the metal. The tingling on the palm of my hand persisted until I was through the door and had let go of the wall. The canteen, blessedly, was empty. I stumbled my way to the kitchen door, and waved an unsteady hand over the sensor. As I tumbled to the ground in an attempt to kneel, I hazily thought that I'd waited too long to get more food. I struggled to open the drawers to the ration bars, and hastily gulped down the first thing I got to. I didn't even register what flavor it was. I took another bar and devoured that too. I coughed and fumbled at a refrigerator behind me. Water jugs. Perfect. I opened one and gulped sloppily at the water as it spilled out and onto the floor. I had forgotten how good water could taste when it wasn't from a cleaning or coolant pipe, or whatever the tunnel pipes were for. I turned back and attacked more of the bars, delirious from a hunger that was finally being addressed. In the middle of my eating frenzy, I belatedly realized my field of vision had narrowed. Moments later, I lost control of my limbs and slumped back against the fridge door. Everything went black.

When I came too, I was no longer slumped against the door, but was laying out flat. My first thought was of the camera in the canteen. I had forgotten to disable it. I tried to mumble a curse, but my mouth was too dry. I had no option but hope nobody had been paying attention, and remember on the way out. I might even have to sneak into the security center and try to remove any recordings or logs that might have been made. I moved my right hand toward the floor. The left hand followed, as if dragged along. Like my wrists were chained together.

Ohhh... No.... Oh void it all... 

My hands were chained, or rather, handcuffed, together. The crew had caught me.

"... Coming to now, I think," a voice said from behind me as my hearing tuned back in.

"Ughhh," I rasped, then smacked my mouth to move some moisture around. I cleared my throat, but didn't say anything. What was there to say? Oops?

"Don't," I began before I cleared my throat again, "Don't suppose you'd be willing to just forget about all this and drop me off somewhere suitable?" It was worth a shot, and nothing else occurred to me. I figured it was 

"You know what, I'm actually halfway tempted to," replied the same voice, as it was moving closer. A shadow passed over my still half-closed eyes, and I opened them. A man stood over me with a half-amused expression on his face. His eyes and short-cropped hair were both a warm brown, and his face, though it didn't look unkind, was chiseled. I didn't recognize the rank on his shoulders exactly, but it was some level of sergeant or navy equivalent, "I mean honestly, I'm too impressed to be angry at all the laws that were broken here. How in hell you managed to stay hidden for this long without being detected is just beyond me. Though," he looked me up and down, and his smile faded,"it doesn't look like it came for free. Nevermind where you hid - for now -" he hastily added, "I'm more curious how in the heck you survived. We went over our stores, and it seems you've managed to squirrel away an armful of ration bars and a handful of sandwiches, all told. That should only last you about half the time we've spent on patrol, even with strict rationing."

"... I didn't take any sandwiches. Haven't found any," I replied.

"Hah," a voice from farther away exclaimed, "I knew Tom was-"

The man standing over me turned around. I couldn't see his expression, but the other voice stopped talking. Feeling a lot better than I had earlier - crazy what a good meal could do - I felt at the air currents. The layout of the room matched the canteen, apart from some chairs being displaced. Beside myself and the sergeant, two other people were in the room, standing farther back, close to the exit. Otherwise, not much seemed different from when I had passed through - and out. The other two were clearly guarding the door, based on both their stances and positions. One was armed with something short and bulky, using two hands to hold it at rest in front of him. The other had a sidearm but was otherwise unencumbered. Judging from the turbulence in the air, he was the one who had just spoken. The sergeant turned back around and returned his attention to me.

"Astounding," he said simply. Was that... Awe? "But I'm afraid it doesn't really change much. Hell, I'd like to help you out, but it's not really up to me. I'll put in a good word if it'll help, but what happens next is up to the captain." The sergeant paused, then asked "Can you sit?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so."

I tried to rise up. A strong arm helped push me up to a seated position, while another swiveled me around by the legs, so I was sitting on the edge of the table I had been lying on.

"Now then, I'm going to have to ask you some questions. Are you good to answer them right now?"

"Yeah, I suppose I am. Would it be too cheeky to ask for some juice or something though?"

The sergeant snorted, but nodded and signaled for the guard with the sidearm, who went into the canteen. He came back as the sergeant asked his first question, holding a cup.

"Alright, first question: What's your name?"

I took the cup and sipped gratefully from it.

"So this is what real oranges taste like. Huh." It was a joke, but not completely untruthful.

"Reconstituted, but yes. Your name?"

"Well, uh, sergeant, that's a good question."

"Quartermaster, actually. But points for trying. How is asking your name a good question though?"

"Well, thing is..." I hesitated. I had just been about to use the name my last foster parents had called me by. As far as I knew, it was the name I might be discovered by. Thinking fast, I instead went for a half-truth.

"It's Tem," I said to mild surprise from the onlookers, supplying a name I remembered from my childhood, even if I didn't recall what it was about. To cover that up, I began making things up instead. "Just Tem, as far as I know, too. I don't know what that is all about. See, nobody ever told me my surname. My parents didn't like me much," I added.

"I... See... Just Tem? T-E-M?" the quartermaster clarified, while he stood posed to make notes on a small electronic pad. The electric currents within lit up as he wrote once I confirmed his spelling.

"Okay then. Tem Doe. Next question, where are you from?" 

"Like, what colony?"

"Yes."

"Well... I moved around a lot when I was little, but I guess the simplest answer would be Rygol III?"

"No easy questions today, then. Well. We'll revisit some of them when we're docked at the next station. Won't be long now."

Oh you cannot be serious.

"Third question: how were you able to-"

A bell chimed from speakers in the signal, interrupting the sergeant. Next, a voice called out, "Your attention please. All officers and NCOs, report to the bridge. Repeat, all officers and NCOs, report to the bridge immediately."

"Nevermind, we'll continue this later. If you'll come with me." The quartermaster helped me to my feet. Soon after, we were walking down the corridor. The quartermaster was in front, followed by the guard who had given me a juice cup, and then myself. The guard with the big gun brought up the rear. I was a bit nervous about having that thing pointed more or less at my back, though I should probably have been more worried about my future. The guards didn't exactly seem threatened by me, and small wonder. Comparing myself to them made me realize just how much I had deteriorated these past months. All for nothing, it seemed.

We had only gotten a few meters however, before other people jooined in. I recognized most of the ranks. Officers for the most part. The quartermaster addressed one of them, a woman with two silver stars on her shoulders. A lieutenant, probably.

"Ma'am. Would you know why we're being called to the bridge?"

The officer glanced back at me, then replied in a low voice, thinking I couldn't hear. I probably wouldn't have, either, but... abomination, and all that. Besides, this might be helpful information to have. Plus, I just couldn't help but be nosy.

"We're getting some unannounced visitors at the waystation."

"Visitors, ma'am? Do you mean..." he trailed off.

"Yes, exactly that. And I needn't tell you why that would be bad, do I?"

"No ma'am!" the quartermaster, a little too loud for the officer, who furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"Besides," she added quietly after a short pause, "we're running late as it is, what with our late delivery. They'll be suspicious from the get-go, I'll wager, so this couldn't have come at a worse time."

Well. This could actually prove helpful.