“You know,” Cathérine said, “I wasn’t expecting… this.” She scratched a large creature between the ears after making absolutely sure it wasn’t one of the petting zoo’s other visitors. The animal, which was about three, maybe four feet long, almost tube-like, was covered in soft downy feathers, and reminded her a little bit of the Hexapod, although she wasn’t going to say that out loud. She wondered if the two species were related somehow, and if this was the equivalent of her petting a chimpanzee. It made a soft trilling sound, and its feathers puffed up and settled in a gentle pattern that she was starting to understand indicated comfort. 

“We have noted that humans enjoy pack-bonding with animals outside of your own species,” Proteus said, keeping a safe distance from the animals, although a small creature that looked like a mix between a duck and bright-blue volleyball had latched onto his leg. “The desire to be in some way physically comforted is an evolutionary advantageous trait to possess, it seems.” He shook his leg a little, but the excited six-legged duck-ball held on tightly, chirping enthusiastically. 

“Well, it’s appreciated,” Hasan Prakoso said. He was clearly having a good time, in both an academic and more basal ‘I am surrounded by what are essentially alien puppies’-sense. Seeing parallels to Earth-based animals was interesting. Not all of them were nearly as cuddly to her, however, and there was at least one creature that appeared to be a swarm of smaller bug-like critters she had explicitly stated she wouldn’t get near. But for the most part, the creatures were, well, cute. Was cute a universal constant? “Would it be possible to get a list of the animals we’ve interacted with,” Hasan continued, “with a little bit of history and explanation?” 

“Of course,” Proteus nodded. “You’ll have full access to the public databases once we’ve set up a connection to your ship.” He managed to make a throat-clearing noise, although it probably needed some work. “If that takes too long, I’ll get a physical copy sent up to you. Bureaucracy can be…”

“Stifling?” Hasan offered. Proteus bowed his head in agreement. 

“These really are remarkable,” Doctor Riel said. “I could spend my entire life dedicated to just studying what’s in here with us and I feel like I’d learn something new every day.”

‘In here,’ was a small petting zoo built close to the edge of a dome, so species who were less vulnerable to the outside air and assorted bacteria could interact with local and imported fauna. Next to it was a large open field, and the sun shone gently onto the reddish-brown moss that covered the ground. There were several species that seemed to be herding the various species, though most of them weren’t Unity, Cathérine noted.

But there were lots of other sentient species and life-forms who were clearly just here to interact and even play with the various animals. It was a remarkably wholesome and quiet thing to see. Some were clearly communal, and she thought she could see what appeared to be a guardian Hexapod taking two younger ones to play with the animals. After the stress she’d been through, this was a very welcome change of pace, she thought as she scratched the long animal.

A change of pace interrupted by a beep on her belt, which the animal she’d been scratching under the chin responded to by beeping back in an almost perfect imitation. She chuckled as she looked at her communicator, and swore. She stood up. 

“Ambassador Proteus,” she said, and walked over to him. He was clearly able to read her expression to some degree. Good, she wasn’t in the mood to elaborate on how she was feeling. 

“Is something the matter, Captain Durand?” he asked, and Francesca and Hasan both made their way over too, having heard her tone of voice. She wasn’t going to be repeating herself anyway. The message on her communicator itself hadn’t been all that worrying. If it had been sent by her First Officer, she would have calmly and quietly excused herself. But the source of the message had framed it completely differently. It was probably the first time she’d even received direct communication from her. 

“I’m afraid I’m needed back at the ship, Proteus. Urgently.” Cathérine turned to Prakoso and Doctor Riel. “Andromeda Gataki just messaged me,” she said. “First Officer Blake apparently had something of an… altercation.”

“Oh dear,” Proteus said, and stood still for a few seconds. Cathérine assumed he was conferring with the Unity to get more on the situation. “Just a moment,” he mumbled. 

“Can you connect to that network while walking?” she asked while messaging Andromeda back. He nodded, and she started to make her way to where the carriage had been parked. The automated vehicle was indistinguishable from several others with the exception of a white band on its side. 

“It seems your First Officer had an episode of… the Unity doesn’t quite know. But he is in good physical health, and is responding,” Proteus said as he tried to keep up with the Captain. She just nodded, her jaw clenched. That was something, at least. As far as she was concerned, every person under her command was under her protection, and if Clinton had been harmed in some way, she was going to have to take some very deep breaths before she considered starting a diplomatic incident. How well did aliens take a punch, anyway? Still no message back from Andromeda

“Can you tell me what triggered it? Was he harassed? Attacked?” For the first time, she wished she could connect to the Unity. She wanted to know everything. If someone had deliberately assaulted Clinton, she was going to park the Sollipsis in their front lawn, burn their house down and ask questions after. 

“As far as we can tell,” Proteus said as they all piled into the carriage, “he had simply been talking to some other Unity. There was a misunderstanding where they thought he was one of them. His symptoms indicate a panic or anxiety attack.” Proteus sounded like he was reading from a manual, or like he was being read his lines. He was clearly just passing information along. Cathérine was going to have to talk to Clinton herself. She knew he was sensitive — it was one of his best qualities, and a good foil to her own tendency to keep people at a distance — but not, she felt, to the extent that he’d break down over an argument. Something else was playing here. She could feel it in her gut. 

The carriage started with a jolt, taking off flying towards the airport. They weren’t that far, and most of the ride she grilled Proteus for more information. He didn’t have that much more, though, but she didn’t care, and she didn’t care that it was clearly making him, Hasan and Francesca uncomfortable. She needed to know everything, but more importantly, the fact that she couldn’t do anything right that second was hell on her nerves. The shuttle landed, and she practically barrelled through the customs checkpoint. Decontamination took an infinity, and she was almost bouncing off the walls by the time the doors opened. Her long strides were almost a full sprint by the time she was in the narrow hall that led to her ship, and it was clear Proteus had a hard time keeping pace. The amount to which she did not care was unquantifiable.

She was busy typing on her communicator on the way. Andromeda had informed her that she and Clinton were in their quarters, where Clinton had, apparently, been laid down, although he was neither asleep nor particularly restful. Cathérine quickly looked up which deck their room was on, then almost punched the number in on the elevator, only holding the door open long enough to tell the others that she was going up on her own. 

“I apologize, Ambassador. I will inform you if there is a diplomatic problem that needs to be addressed. However, I must talk to my First Officer alone, first. Hasan, Francesca, please… show Proteus… something.” She quickly closed the doors on the elevator before they could ask her for more. She wasn’t in the mood to come up with more. She was barely in the mood for human speech. And it had been such a nice day, too. 

The elevator hummed on its way up through the ship’s central sphere, and Cathérine willed it to go faster, until it finally came to a stop. She thundered through the halls, and more than one ensign jumped aside to let her pass. She’d have to apologize to people later, she thought idly as she came up on Blake’s room, then pressed the bell. 

After a moment, Alex Nguyen opened the door. “Captain,” they said, sounding surprised, and then stepped aside. Inside, Jackson Manderlay was pacing back and forth, and Cathérine saw Andromeda sitting on the bed, next to Clinton who was… not well. He was curled up in the fetal position and breathing heavy, his eyes wide open. It was the only part of his face she could see. At the sound of Alex’s voice, Andromeda stood up and tried to — shakily — stand at attention. Cathérine just shook her head, and the girl sat back down. 

“What happened?” Cathérine asked. 

“We can barely get a word out of him,” Jackson said, “and Petri didn’t know much more, either. He had an anxiety attack, but I don’t know…” 

“It was those… Unity,” Alex said. “They all had his face. ‘To make him more comfortable’, they said.” Cathérine rubbed her face. She’d had some suspicions, but this wasn’t what she’d expected, and she was already starting to beat herself up over it. She should have seen this, or something like it, coming. If only she knew exactly what ‘it’ was. 

“Blake,” she said, “can you hear me?” Clinton’s panicked eyes met her own. That was enough, for now. “Do you think you can tell me what happened?” He shook his head, ever so slightly, but enough for her to see. “Do you know why you’re upset?” He started to nod, stopped, and then shook his head no. 

“He’s been like this as soon as he sat down. He’s not catatonic and he’s responding, but he’s not talking, barely moving,” Andromeda said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Could you give us a moment?” Cathérine said as she took one of the oval chairs and dragged them to the side of the bed. It wasn’t really a question, and Andromeda looked for a moment like she was going to protest. A second of eye-contact with her Captain stopped that dead in its tracks, and only a moment later, Cathérine and Clinton were the only ones in the room. Cathérine sat down and crossed her legs. 

“Now, Clinton,” Cathérine said. “Can you answer yes-or-no questions?” 

He nodded. 

“Good. Good. Okay, try to follow me here. Were you attacked in some way? Not just physically, but mentally or emotionally?” Clinton seemed to think for a moment, and then shook his head. No. 

“Okay, that’s good. But something you saw… hurt.”

A quick nod. Yes.

“Something that hurt you… well, look at you. To your core. More than almost anything you can think of.”

Yes. 

“And it was to do with the fact that you were surrounded by people who all had your face, I’m assuming?”

Yes.

“Were you scared they were… taking your identity somehow?”

A strong no. 

“Okay. That rules that out. But it was the face?”

Yes. 

“If I were to go in there,” Cathérine said, nodding her head to the bathroom, “and get a mirror, how would you feel?” The little ball of misery that comprised Clinton Blake became a little smaller as he tightened up. “Well, that answers that. So it’s not really the aliens then, is it?”

No.

“Something they said?”

Yes. 

“Was it about you?”

Yes.

“The problem is ‘you’.”

Yes.

“Is it… just the face?”

No. 

“Is it… all of you?”

Yes. 

“Body or more?”

A little head wobble. 

“Right, that’s not a yes or no question. Is it only your body?”

No. 

“Is it your entire identity?”

No. 

“Just parts.”

Yes. 

“Your name?”

A pause, and then a small nod. 

“Clinton?”

Yes. 

“Blake?”

No. 

Cathérine sighed and rubbed her face. “Cl— Blake, take a second to follow me here. You had an encounter with an alien species that mimicked your face. They talked to you — a misunderstanding, if I heard correctly — and that caused you to, essentially, melt down. That tells me there was something under the surface all this time. Do you think it was there?”

Yes. A really small nod, almost imperceptible, unless you were looking for it. 

“Do you wish you were someone else?”

In direct contrast to the previous one, this was an enthusiastic yes. 

“Because of who you are.”

“Because,” Blake said, with the smallest voice, “of who I have to be.”

“I see,” Cathérine said. “And if I told you that, aboard my ship, I would rather my First Officer be the person they would rather be? Even your duties are less important than your wellbeing. Even if…” Cathérine bit her lip. She wanted to take the risk, but if she was wrong, or if she pushed a little too hard against a door that was clearly already open a crack, she could cause him to close up entirely. “Even if that person isn’t Mister Blake.”

“I’d like that,” Blake squeaked. 

“You’d like to not be Mister Blake.”

Small nods. 

“But you’re okay with being Blake.” It wasn’t a question. 

Yes.

Well. 

“Do you mind if I talk to your partner about this?”

No.

“You’re sure?”

Yes.

Cathérine sat up straight and walked to the door. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said reassuringly, and then opened the door. Andromeda stood just outside, arms crossed and clearly brimming with anxiety, and she practically jumped when the door opened. “Your partner will be… okay,” Cathérine told her, “but I’ll be penciling you in for an appointment with Doctor Riel. She’s a licensed psychologist.”

Andromeda nodded. “I… figured that. Clinton’s never been very good seeing… well…”

“Tell her,” Cathérine interrupted her, “to consider a diagnosis for gender dysphoria.”

“Oh,” Andromeda said, and she looked at the bed. Her partner had their eyes squeezed shut. 

Yes.