Fletcher flexed his hands as he did his best to confidently walk through the halls of Finnack Mountain Base. It was his first official day of his new posting, and he was nervous. Really, really nervous. He expected that he would be given a minor posting or maybe even have his dad pull a few strings to get him an analyst posting after all. Working on a classified assignment with Major Simpson was far from anything he expected.

  He missed Backup already. He knew his dog was going to miss him, but he planned to use his lunch break to take Backup out for a small walk. It turned out that going from freely roaming ruins to being bent up in tight hallways was a tough adjustment for Backup, and Fletcher found that it took frequent walks and play sessions to keep the dog satisfied.

  It didn’t help his nerves that he hadn’t slept well, but the nightmares were one of those things that even Hexing couldn’t fix. Having Backup nearby did help though. Just having something living near him when he woke from one of the nightmares full of death made it at least possible to go back to sleep.

  Reaching Simpson’s office, Fletcher took another breath. This would be fine. Technically, this was going to be a pretty easy assignment, especially coming from Vesi, but he still couldn’t fathom why it was him doing this. It seemed like a waste of everyone’s time.

  Pressing the doorbell, Fletcher waited until the door opened and then entered the office where he’d been in what seemed like another lifetime for his interview before officer training.

  “Major.” Fletcher saluted.

  “At ease, Lieutenant.” Simpson waved the salute off. He glanced at his watch. “I thought I warned you about being late.”

  Fletcher checked his own watch. “I’m right on time, sir. The orders said o-eight-hundred on them.”

  “Take note for going forward, on time means five minutes early.” Simpson stood up. “Come with me. I’ll show you to our workroom.”

  “Yes, sir.” Fletcher followed him out of the office, keeping back a slew of complaints. Not only did he think this assignment was a waste of time, but of course out of everyone he could work under it was Simpson. He didn’t know of another Human or Mixhuman or even Unhuman who managed to grate his nerves as well as the Major.

  Simpson didn’t speak as they walked through the hallways, his strides long and fast to the point that Fletcher felt like he was intentionally speed walking just to make Fletcher uncomfortable. What was this guy’s problem?

  They reached a heavy metal door with two guards outside of it. Simpson scanned his ID badge, and then Fletcher did the same. It was a new one, to replace the one he incinerated months ago, which used his proper last name of “Anders.” In fact, it would appear someone somewhere—his mom if he had to guess—decided the whole “Dixon” thing was out because all the uniforms in his closet used “Anders” as well. Apparently he was only using his true last name now, and that was another thing he found uncomfortable about the whole situation. He preferred not being tied back to the most powerful, fiercest general in the Mixed, especially when he was… he was just him, nothing like his aloof, calculating mother.

  “Lieutenant,” Simpson called back.

  Fletcher picked up the pace as he crossed through the now open metal doors into the classified section of the base. If possible, it seemed to be even more lifeless than the other parts of Finnack, and that was saying something.

  “We’re in here. You’ll be meeting me here every work day for the foreseeable future.” Simpson motioned to another door which he scanned into.

  Fletcher followed him inside and frowned. It reminded him all too much of an interrogation room like what the Humans used back when they were pushing him to spy for them. It was complete with a single rectangular table at the center and a chair on either side. On the table were two microphones and cameras, and a series of controls were on just one side.

  Simpson motioned to the side without the controls. “That’s your spot.”

  “Yes, sir.” Fletcher sat down in the metal chair, dreading what came next.

  Major Simpson sat across from him and began working the controls. “I’ll only go through this once, so pay attention.”

  Fletcher took a deep breath, holding back any comments to instead make it obvious he was giving the Major his full attention.

  “We will begin each interview with your name, date of birth, and the mission title. I will then give mine as well. After that we’ll review anything pertinent from the previous interviews before launching into the next set of questions. You are expected to answer fully and as detailed as possible. Do not leave anything out, no matter how minor or unimportant you think it is,” Simpson said.

  “Right…” He stared at his commanding officer. “It’s just… I don’t think any of this is important. I’m a little confused as to why I’m doing this at all.”

  “You were the one and only candidate for a highly classified Unhuman program known as the Diplomacy Initiative. How do you not find that important?” Simpson asked.

  Fletcher shook his head. “I didn’t know anything about that, Major. I told you that already. I was in Bren’it’p for their education program, not spying. I really don’t think you’re going to learn anything useful. Unless you care about how Unhumans run their schools.”

  Simpson shook his head. “We’ll see about that. I still can’t believe you didn’t mention having a personal relationship with a prime minister until a few weeks ago. It’s pretty obvious that you have a terrible sense of what information is important.”

  “That’s not fair,” Fletcher argued. “I worked with Minister Vi’le only a little bit. You’re acting like I intentionally hid some big secret from you when I just forgot to mention a few details.”

  “Remember what I just said about this interview process? I want to know everything, Lieutenant. And I mean it. Every detail, every name. I see the big picture. You’re just here to provide information. Now if you’re ready, I’d like to begin. There’s a lot to cover.” Simpson raised his eyebrows.

  “Yes, sir,” Fletcher said sullenly. Yeah. This was going to be miserable.

  The Major sighed and shook his head again as he continued messing with knobs over on his side of the table. “Alright. We’re recording. You go first.”

  “Lieutenant Fletcher Anders. Born February 10th, 2070. Reporting for the Freak-Lover mission,” he said.

  “Major David Simpson. Born June 17th, 2056. Interviewing for the Freak-Lover mission.” Simpson opened a file before him. “Let’s start off simple. Tell me about your first meeting with [Goblin] Prime Minister Vi’le.”

  Fletcher bit his lip, thinking about how to respond. “Uh, it was at the Alcett Academy for Unhumans where I taught over the summer. I was—”

  “How long did you teach there? Did you meet any other officials while you were there?” Simpson cut in.

  “I was an intern for two years during college and then I taught for another three years as a full teacher. I don’t recall meeting—”

  “How did you get involved with teaching Unhumans in the first place?”

  Fletcher hesitated. “I’m sorry. I thought I was supposed to respond to your questions, but you keep interrupting me. How am I supposed to give you all those details you want?”

  “This is our first session. We have to lay groundwork, which means going back as far as needed. Now, the question, Lieutenant. How did you get involved teaching Unhumans in the first place?”

  He took a breath to calm himself so he didn’t reach across the table to try to strangle Simpson. He knew this was going to be annoying, but somehow the man managed to make an already irksome task more irritating. There was no way he was going to survive doing this for more than a couple of days.

  “Lieutenant,” Simpson chided.

  “I was attending Alcett University, studying mathematics. As part of the program, we had to listen to a series of lectures about careers and extracurricular opportunities. I was in my second year of college when the Unhuman Education Liaison for Alcett presented to the class about the chance to intern at the summer school with Unhumans. I realized I was interested in trying it out, especially since the previous summer hadn’t gone exactly how I imagined, and I was looking for something different. I spoke to her afterwards, got more information, and then went ahead and signed up for a summer. I enjoyed it enough that I ended up adding a teaching certificate to my degree and pursuing education as my career, where I continued to dedicate summers to teaching Unhumans,” Fletcher summarized. There. That had to satisfy him. There were so many unnecessary details, but that’s what Simpson asked for.

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  “What happened the summer before?” Simpson asked.

  Fletcher looked at him and then shook his head. “That has nothing to do with my time in Bren’it’p or Unhumans. I’m not answering that.”

  “Details, Lieutenant, details. Any part of this could be a factor in how you ended up tied up with the Diplomacy Initiative.” The Major continued to look at him, making it clear Fletcher wasn’t getting out of it.

  He rubbed his face. “Okay. Fine. Let’s just dig every moment from my life that you think could be important. That’s a good use of everyone’s time, I’m sure.”

  “If you would, Lieutenant.”

  Fletcher bit his lip and then went ahead and answered the question, detailing how he went to Jukati and not enjoying being away from his father and childhood friends for so long, and overall questioning his original career plan to become a researcher. After that, Simpson did let him return to talking about how he got involved with the Unhuman education program, but the Major continued to ask questions about every little thing, forcing Fletcher to dredge up memories he hadn’t thought of in months or even years.

  Hours passed this way, and Fletcher thought he might actually start ripping his own hair out just as Major Simpson declared they would take a break for the rest of the day. The recording equipment was turned off, and Fletcher stood up to stretch his tight muscles. Sitting in the metal chair for hours on end wasn’t all that comfortable for his newly healed body.

  “Get some lunch and then meet me at training facility Alpha 238 by thirteen-hundred” Simpson stared down at the file, not bothering to look up at him.

  “Training facility?” Fletcher questioned.

  “Mmhmm. We’re meeting up with the others for the daily PT regiment. Be dressed properly. Dismissed.”

  “Uh, sir, I’m not ready for that kind of thing,” Fletcher said. Three days ago, he’d been in a hospital bed without use of three of his four limbs. The doctor cleared him for basic duty, and while he was technically able to handle exercise, he’d been warned to ease himself into it.

  “I have the medical report, Anders. I’m aware of what the doctor said. I’ll take it easy on you, today. Don’t worry.” The way he said it did not instill much confidence in Fletcher.

  “Yes, sir. I’ll be ready.” Fletcher turned and walked out of the room, keeping a quick pace since he had less than an hour to eat, and he still wanted to check on Backup.

  Leaving the classified area of the base behind, he half-jogged back to his quarters where Backup was sitting by the door, waiting for him to return.

  “Did you miss me, boy?” Fletcher knelt down and allowed him to jump up and lick his face. He needed something happy in his day after that miserable morning with Simpson.

  His father had gone the extra mile and stocked his small kitchenette with basic supplies, so Fletcher slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then ate it on the go while he took Backup to the nearest pet relief area. As pleasant of a time as it was with his dog, it passed too quickly, and before he knew it, he was dressed in workout attire and speed walking back through the base to meet up for training.

  Simpson said they were meeting the “others,” and if Fletcher’s suspicion was right, it might be even more uncomfortable than he originally thought.

  When he arrived at the training facility, his suspicions proved right. Captain Naeku along with Sergeants Ibara, Sosa, and Johnston were all there, along with an unfamiliar man.

  It wasn’t that he minded training with the two women, but the problem was that every time he saw them, he keenly remembered being stripped naked by them back when he was soaking wet and hypothermic. That kind of humiliation was something that he couldn’t just forget about, especially when he had to train near them.

  “Fletcher!” Ibara grinned at him. “Welcome to the team.”

  “Uh huh,” Fletcher said. “Thanks.”

  “Not excited about it?” Naeku asked.

  “Not exactly,” he admitted. “It’s not what I expected.”

  “Well, the good news is you have plenty of time to adjust,” Simpson said from behind.

  They all fell into a line, and Simpson stood at the front.

  “Most of you are familiar with Lieutenant Anders who was recently assigned to some classified work with us. As a note, if anyone catches him smoking, they’ll be rewarded with an extra day of leave and the Lieutenant will spend a day in Purgatory.” Simpson motioned to the unfamiliar man. “Anders, meet Lieutenant Herrera, another new addition to the team. With introductions out of the way, let’s get down to business.”

  Fletcher nodded to Herrera and glared daggers at Simpson for the smoking comment. It seemed everyone in the world was very concerned about keeping him from falling back into that habit, despite the fact he’d made it clear he was quitting willingly. As easy of a coping mechanism as it was, he was learning better skills from his therapist, and he didn’t like dealing with the judgements of his family and friends so it was easier to give it up entirely.

  With that, the Major guided them through a series of rather intense warmups before moving onto the actual workout. As expected, Fletcher struggled to keep up, especially when it came to running. His legs weren’t used to that kind of work after weeks in casts, and the rest of his body wasn’t prepared for that intense of exercise. The problem was that Simpson didn’t care one bit. He pushed Fletcher as hard as the others, and by the end of their run, Fletcher neared the point where he was either going to puke or just pass out for a moment.

  “Time for sparring. We’ll finish with weights,” Simpson announced. “Partner up. Anders is with me.”

  A sweaty, exhausted Fletcher groaned and followed the others to the mats. He definitely had a lot of catching up to do when it came to working out. Even though he kept up his runs while at Vesi, he didn’t bother with much else, so he had a feeling this match was not going to go well.

  And it didn’t.

  Simpson pounded him every round. In his opinion, it was pretty clear the Major was not holding back, but Fletcher wasn’t going to complain. Once he was through getting beat up by his superior officer, Simpson dismissed them all to weights.

  That was something Fletcher was more excited about since it would hopefully help him build his physique back up. It definitely took a hit while he was at Vesi and then in the hospital.

  Weightlifting proved to be the most enjoyable part of the afternoon since everyone got the chance to chat a bit, and Fletcher felt less obviously out of place. Even though Herrera was technically new as well, it didn’t seem like it. The guy fit in with the others as though he’d been there for years. But weights were casual enough that Fletcher even felt a little bit of camaraderie with the others.

  By the time the entire session was over, Fletcher was thinking of nothing but his bed. He wanted to go sit down, hold his dog, and do nothing ever again.

  “Good job today everyone. Tomorrow won’t be so easy,” Simpson warned. “Before we call it today, who wants to go first being Anders’ dinner buddy?”

  Fletcher glanced around. “My what?”

  “I’ll do it, Major. I want to catch up with the kid.” Ibara raised his hand.

  “Good. Sosa, you’ll take tomorrow, and we’ll follow the usual rotation,” Simpson said. “Dismissed.”

  Fletcher stared at the man who completely ignored his question. And given Simpson was now walking away, it would seem he was going to have to confront him directly. Jogging up to the Major, he called out.

  “Hey, wait a second, Major. What’s up with this ‘dinner buddy’ thing?” Fletcher asked.

  Simpson turned back to him with a smirk. “Remember, I have the report from your doctor. It very clearly stated that you need to be gaining weight with an expected daily calorie count, one that I adjusted based on the daily workouts you’ll be participating in. As a precaution, I’m assigning someone to eat with you every evening just to be sure you hit your target. No, it is not optional, and no, I will not hear any complaints about it. That’s all, Lieutenant.”

  The Major walked away as Fletcher stood there, watching him go and thinking a lot of very not nice things about him. His brooding was interrupted by Ibara grabbing his shoulder.

  “Come on. Go clean up. I’m starving,” the Sergeant said.

  “Alright. I’ll meet you at the mess hall,” Fletcher said. There was no getting out of it.

  “Yes, sir. See you there in, shall we say, thirty minutes?”

  “Yeah. Works for me. Thanks, Ibara.”

  “Happy to help.” The man grinned at him as he walked away, catching up to some of the others.

  Fletcher returned to his quarters, showered, and then dressed, rushing to meet at Ibara at their planned time. As they entered the mess hall, Fletcher grimaced, having forgotten how chaotic it always was. Ibara was entirely unbothered as he pointed out a table for them to sit at and then left to get his own food.

  Moving slowly, Fletcher grabbed a few things that didn’t seem too unappetizing since he had yet to properly regain his appetite, and now that he was out of the hospital, he didn’t have as much motivation to force himself to eat.

  As he sat down, Ibara glanced at his tray and then up at him. “I guess we’ll call that an appetizer. You know you have to eat more.”

  “I’ll make it up tomorrow,” Fletcher said.

  “Come on, Fletcher. You know that’s not how it works.”

  Fletcher resisted the urge to hit something. He was not a fan of being treated like a little kid, incapable of managing even his own meals, but he decided it wasn’t worth the argument, so he left to grab a heaping plate of meat and potatoes, sure that that would satisfy Ibara.

  “Better,” the man consented.

  Captain Naeku joined them, as well as Sergeant Sosa, all commenting on Fletcher’s meal. But once the attention was turned away, he was free to dig into his meal.

  What Fletcher quickly learned was that this was a rather chatty group. And Fletcher did not feel like talking, so to give himself an excuse to not join in the chatter, he ended up stuffing his face with everything on his tray. It turned out eating was better than trying to make small talk, though not by much.

  Once he was finished—long before the others—he waved and then set off back to his room, eager to get a little time alone with Backup. He was exhausted, both physically and emotionally after everything the day brought him, and he was all too aware that he was going to have to go through the same exact routine the next day, and every day afterwards for the foreseeable future.

  Back in his room, Fletcher collapsed on his couch as Backup jumped up next to him.

  “Hey, boy,” he said. “I hope your day was better than mine.”

  Given the look on Backup’s face, it wasn’t.

  “That’s alright. Things will get better. We’ll adjust… eventually,” Fletcher said.

  He really hoped it was true.

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