This has to be the shittiest ending to one of the shittiest days. I can't see any other solution, though. The bloody stubborn ape of a man has given me no other options.

Blazing blackholes! I do not want this.

The warm rays of the setting sun are behind me, but they do nothing to warm my cold, clammy skin. I walk on, heading into the trees, following the all too familiar dirt path, clenching my cold fists over and over.

As I leave the dwindling light for the shade of the trees, an all too familiar mantra that has haunted me for days starts to try and escape my lips, "This shouldn't be happening." But I have to play my part here.

If it were a different place, a different time, I might have even let a tear or two fall. This is going to hurt—more than I realized, honestly.

But rules are rules. They are made for a reason. If we don't follow them, we all know what can happen. Or at least that is what Armada tells us.

I want to say, "fuck the rules!" but I can't. I am a soldier. I have a duty and people to protect. But that isn't the worst part.

Some dumb ass, or a bunch of dumb asses, left me in charge after a series of unpredictable events. So I have to act like an alpha-dog.

I learned a few things the hard way fast. Some people think they are alphas. They believe they know how to lead hundreds, maybe thousands of people, guide them, help them make life-altering decisions, and believe they can take on any challengers in a heartbeat.

They are trendsetters, cocky, strong, charismatic, and exude confidence in everything. And that's great. Really it is. I am happy for them. Everyone has the right to love themselves. But they aren't the real leaders.

A true leader may have some of those qualities, and they may have what it takes, but they also know what it takes. And that isn't always what anyone, especially me, wants to do. I am not built for this. Or perhaps I just don't like it.

If we weren't stranded on this dying, forsaken death trap of a planet, this never would have happened in the first place. Stars, if I am lucky, Armada will demote me as soon as we get back to HQ.

A girl can hope anyway. Some people claim my inheriting this role was destiny. I was meant for this. Pfft ya right. I can think of fifty more capable men or women around me. Funny though, pretty sure they are the ones that put me in charge. Guess they didn't want to be the target if shit goes sideways.

I just want to be a grunt.

But I keep putting one foot in front of the other, holding a stoic expression, trying to remain impassive to my task at hand. I am a leader and a soldier. I cannot cry. Right now. People are watching.

I have to look like I believe in what I am doing. I know people are poking their heads out of their lean-tos and shanties, looking, checking to see what will go down. I know the rumours.

As I walk through the small group of trees we pretend is a forest, I stare at the dying foliage on the ground ahead of me, studiously avoiding the eyes on me.

This planet is literally on the cusp of death. We were lucky to have found a small patch of green, or mostly green, land that was big enough for our compounds. When my feet don't crush dead leaves, dried twigs, or stomp through dusty dirt, I step over rocks and around boulders.

The humans say this was once called the boreal forest. Apparently, it had been full of life once. If I look hard, I can almost see a shadow of what had been. Almost.

Now the wind, slightly too warm for it to feel natural, comes through the trees, bringing the promise of death.

Shit. I am at his door already.

Double shit. He is already opening the door.

I have to fight this instinct to turn and run while I force myself to hold a confident pose like a statue, so those looking and for myself.

Of course, the male knew I was at his door. He probably smelled me halfway down the path if he hadn't heard my incessant cursing first. The Zukrog are a freaky humanoid species like that.

I hold my expression as I force myself to meet his gaze. I can't flinch. This has to be done.

I should mention that here, in this compound, or any of my delegated compounds, it doesn't matter if someone wants help; if you need assistance, you get it—end of story.

Usually, if someone needs help and refuses it, they have two options; agree to finally get help or... leave for everyone's safety. One does not get to endanger the many.

Sounds fucked up, I know. But have you heard the term 'You're only as strong as your weakest link'? No truer words have ever been uttered, let me tell you. When you're responsible for thousands, hundreds of thousands, in my case, that statement is your life.

Britt needs help. His last episode almost cost a hundred and fifty lives. There is little to no room for screw-ups of that magnitude. It's not like he simply forgot the bug repellent. However, he has refused to even talk about it.

That hurts the most, if I am honest. I thought we were close. He is, or was, my second and has been the only person I have trusted on the compounds.

We have called each other on our bullshit. We have helped each other make the right choices. We listen when the other needs to bitch, and occasionally, we get tipsy and bump uglies because it is easier than dealing with the drama of one-night stands.

We both know the score. Technically, I am unavailable, and technically, so is he. But for entirely different reasons.

I have commitments. Britt, well, he lost his other half. His people call them their Ak'ia, or soul mate. Zukrog only join in a marital partnership once in their lives, and it is forever.

You could say half his soul died. And it has been screwing with his head lately more than I have ever seen it. This is odd because it's been four years.

I inhale deeply, grappling for my courage and determination. With my jaw clenched tight, feeling my neck muscles flexing, I struggle not to grind my teeth.

His brown eyes are staring back at me. His own neck muscles flex under his tense posture. This sucks.

I dare to put a little hope into my expression, eyes silently pleading for him to surprise me. He doesn't flinch. Not even a blink. Jaw set, eyes hard and unmoving. He's made up his mind.

His feet shift slightly. His bad knee is bugging him.

Shit. He has already packed his bag. It sits there beside his feet just inside the door, like a slap to the face. Sonnofabitch.

My lips purse. I feel the anger flashing in my eyes as I look back up at him. Stupid pointy-eared ape. If he really wants to risk going out on his own, most likely to die at the hands of a Zu'Lar, fine.

He finally has the decency to look a little ashamed. He is needed here, and he knows it. But he is choosing cowardice instead of facing his demons head-on and doing what is right.

Staring into his haunted eyes almost breaks me. Peeling my eyes away from his, I feel shame myself. I can't look at him anymore.

I take in his dishevelled, and might I add chaotic appearance. Black hair, the colour of his mood, a mess at all angles, stubble on his square jaw, bags under bags beneath his eyes, sweat stains on his rumpled, dirty grey shirt, and his ordinarily alabaster skin looks closer to the grey pallor of a corpse.

Who knows when he washed last. The man is a mess. Broken. I can't stand here much longer without losing my shit.

Swallowing the lump in my throat and banishing the image of me begging the giant ape to see reason like a blubbering mess of too much female, I look back up into his eyes. He kicks his bag with the toe of his boot and gives me a nod. That's it then. He's as good as gone.

I swallow hard one more time and decide the peeping toms can go fuck themselves.

I close the gap between us in a quick step, throwing my arms around him. One over his left shoulder and the other under his right arm. A hug between comrades, friends and partners in battle.

I am going to miss him something fierce! He proves he isn't too stupid after all and hugs me back. Wise ape.

It's over too soon. I remove my arms from him mechanically. I don't look at his face again, too scared of not being able to hide my pain.

I turn on a booted foot and march my sorry ass back to my apartment, where I already have a bottle of Blue Nightshade, a potent drink from my home planet, waiting to help me forget my day. I was saving it for a special occasion. This may not be special in the traditional sense, but it qualifies.

Before I am completely out of sight from his door, I send a flood of emotion back to him. I plow my feelings of loss, regret, fear and hope into him. I hope we meet again one day. That would mean he hadn't died. I hear a sharp intake of breath from behind me.

Thankfully, no one knows all my abilities. Mainly because no one knows what I am. And I have most definitely never used any of my abilities on anyone here. It's wise to keep a few tricks up your sleeve.

But I can't very well tell the overgrown ape how I feel, so I send him my feelings instead—no need for words. Emotions say so much more. It serves him right for leaving—stupid ape.

It's not long before I am propping my feet up on my bed as I sit in the solitary chair in my room. I lean back, closing my eyes. There is no point in keeping them open.

Like many, I have barely liveable living arrangements. Looking at it does nothing to improve my mood. Granted, I am lucky. Some don't even have old used boards separating them from the elements.

No, I am not ungrateful for the grey wood, single chair, small table and actual bed that I call my own. But staring at them won't help either.

It had all gone down without a single damn word. I take a long pull of the Nightshade. Blue is my favourite. Sweet, but with a bit of pucker at the end. The Red Nightshade is okay but too spicy. It always leaves me belching like one of the local Guarnad Toads back home.

I can feel the warm tingle of the liquor soaking into me. It is heavenly. Nightshade is a unique liquor that not only makes you severely drunk but releases endorphins and some other happy hormones unique to my people. Whoever they are. Either way, it's a blissful high once you get there. But you pay for that. Fucking hell, you pay. But I will deal with that tomorrow.

Images of home start to flutter behind my eyes. I can see Ariatha playing in a stream, giggling at the efforts of Izuul trying to catch fish. He was horrible at it.

I feel my mouth smile. It feels good. When was the last time I smiled?

Another image flashes and I can see my mother standing in our kitchen washing the vegetables we just picked from the garden. Her long dark hair, reddish-brown, neatly tucked into her braid, humming softly as she sways side to side, her apron brushing the cupboards with every swish.

I listen to the sound of running water as the feeling of warm air with the scent of moss and damp earth blows through the open doors of our dome house, washing over me in a peaceful wave.

Birds are chirping outside, and somewhere off to the side, Dad and Ariatha are laughing and gossiping about the neighbours like old hens.

I can feel my whole face smiling now. I take another long pull and let the next image wash over me. My day may have sucked, but tonight I am going to let myself smile.