The Commander buzzes me, and I hurry to his quarters. I’m late. I rush in and bow.

“Why are you late?”

“I was in the bathroom. I was delayed. Forgive me,” I bow again.

“Are you healthy?”

My eyes meet his sharp cobalt ones, and I only see concern. “Yes, Commander. It won’t happen again.”

“Dress me,” he commands, and I begin dressing him in clean undergarments and then his uniform with all the pins. When I finish, I expect him to leave, and I’ll go over the messages that need to be sent and change his bedding, but he stays.

“Volunteer 4711,” he says.

“Yes?”

“There’s a small matter of the farmers you volunteered with wanting you back.”

I don’t know how to reply, so I wait for him to continue.

“Don’t believe any gossip. I’d never return you to that place,” he says.

“I understand.”

He looks as if he’s going to say something more but then decides against it and leaves for the bridge.

I realize that I had been holding my breath and let it go. My shoulders relax as well. I don’t know why but I needed to hear him say that. I guess the gossip on the ship had finally reached him. My friend always says, ‘Gossip begins with the servants and then makes its way up to the top within two days.’

I sit at his computer and begin going through the messages, there are quite a few, and it takes me most of the morning. I see one that is unusual and even more so because it’s from the government, which shouldn’t be because this is his personal account. The government should be using his professional GC account. I open it. It’s a private message from a government official. He and the Commander are friends, and he wants to know if the Commander can still meet at the rendezvous point. This isn’t the first time a message like this has come through, but this is definitely the most cryptic one I’ve ever seen. I mark it for the Commander and then make my way through the rest.

In the afternoon, while I’m at my self-defense class, the Commander comes in to watch. He’s been here every day lately, and I wonder if he’s worried about me when we meet the other fleet. It makes me feel good when he comes, and I try even harder to learn what is being taught to me. After each session, the Commander dismisses me with a look of approval. Today is no different, which is somewhat disappointing, as I really got my instructor good when he thought he had me. I won’t be surprised if he has a bruise tomorrow, and I wish the Commander would’ve acknowledged that.

That evening, the Commander buzzes me when he’s ready, and I hurry to his quarters, I enter, as usual, and begin undressing him. He asks me about the message I marked from the government. “Did you recognize the name?”