"I'm not going, Lt. Marks and that's final," Captain Zehra spat, tossing her paperwork on the desk and rubbing her temples in circular motions. "I just don't have time right now."

Old, physical paper covered all of her desk almost reaching the ceiling of her office. Beyond it, barely visible through the cracks between the towers starlight sprinkled in through the large window that covered most of the far wall. Zehra missed the days when she was nothing more than an ambitious Lt. Adjusting her long, midnight blue ponytail, she took out a pen and returned to marking what was important, and throwing away what was not.

"Your organization skills are amazing, I have the perfect job for you."

Colonel Walkin's words echoed in Zehra's mind, a taunt of her idiocy for agreeing to such a thing. These files had been sitting untouched for decades, having never been input into the computer. Now, the responsibility of ensuring that happened rested on her shoulders.

"The General didn't say it was—" Lt Marks started, his antennae twitching when Zehra slammed her fist on the desk. Paper flitted through the air like fowl.

"I don't care what the General said. You are under my command, Lt. And I said I'm not—"

The doors slammed open. General Helena marched inside, her white, handkerchief skirt fluttering with each clack of her heeled feet. Captain Zehra shot to her feet so fast her chair clattered to the floor. Great. This was great. Placing her hand to her left shoulder she bowed. "General."

"At ease, Captain Zehra," General Helena said, adjusting her green kelp hair to rest behind her shoulders. She turned to Lt. Marks.

The Insectoid's mandibles clicked in anticipation. Such a nervous wreck, that Lt. Marks. Even his six legs fidgeted as if he suspected the General of being a predator sizing up her prey. No wonder he was nothing more than a glorified secretary.

The General's pale lips twitched in amusement. "You may leave us."

Lt. Marks bowed his head and bolted from the room, sending the recently fallen papers into the air. General Helena caught one, her eyes scanning the faded writing. "What is this?"

"Old files that Colonel Walkin assigned me to sort through, ma'am," Captain Zehra replied curtly. It wouldn't be professional to allow any disdain to bleed through her tone. This wasn't a good use of her time. There were other tasks to be done, maps to make, territories to explore. But for the past turn, all Zehra had done was paperwork.

"Are you his secretary, Captain?" General Helena asked, folding the paper into an airplane and tossing it at the incinerator. It was a perfect score, of course.

 
Zehra glanced at the paperwork, adjusting the piles to be neater. "No, General."

"Then why are you doing his assignment for him?"

Coughing, Zehra looked up from the papers, meeting her superiors hazel eyes. "Do you mean to say I am not supposed to be carrying out this task?"

General Helena crossed her arms, placing his ruby claws atop her green skin. "That is correct. I assigned this to the Colonel. This is his mess, he should be the one to take care of it, not you." Sweeping her arm across the desk, the General sent the towers of papers to the floor. "I have a different task for you, as Lt. Marks was attempting to tell you."

Wide-eyed, Captain Zehra had to clasp her hands behind her back to prevent her from regathering the papers and placing them back into tidy towers. Everything she had done, the sorting, the marking—wasted.  She cleared her throat. "With all due respect, ma'am, I do not need a vacation. I've never needed to take one and never intend to. It's a waste of resources and time."

"Well, here's the thing, Captain—" The General slammed a folder on the desk. "—you don't have a choice. This is an order. You can either take this vacation, or go to a children's park. Those are your options. Choose wisely."

Biting her tongue, Zehra opened the packet. Dances, beach parties, tours—disgusting. "Hell no. I can't go. I'm needed here."

"Mind your manners, Captain. And oh, your wardrobe didn't fit the proper attire for the environment, so I bought you a few things. Your luggage is packed and placed in the shuttle." Colonel Helena smiled, her pointed teeth sparkling. "You leave for Drigobo in the next hour."

New wardrobe?

Zehra watched her General march from the room. What the starshit did General Helena put in her luggage? There were plenty of finely pressed shirts and slacks she could bring. Despite the mess left of her office, Zehra had a feeling if she didn't follow the General, the forced vacation would only become less tolerable. For the first, and hopefully only time, she abandoned her post to follow her commanding officeir in prepartion for the greatest waste of Drexi.

Vacation.
..... ..... ..... ..... .... ..... .....
This wasn't funny. Captain Zehra snarled at the pilots when they glanced back her way, snickering. Could the General have given her anything less, well, this? Adjusting the bright, yellow, floral dress for the third time, Zehra scowled. In the metal wall beside her, she could see the reflection of a Megalon she didn't recognize. Instead of being held back, her long hair was draped over her shoulders, curled intentionally. Just that preparation had taken up nearly the whole hour before her parting. Who had that kind of time to waste on altering the structure of their hair? Useless idiocy. She hated how civilian she appeared in these clothes.

But, at the same time—she traced her hand down her side to her hip—it didn't look all bad. Starshit. What was wrong with her? This was humiliating.

"We've landed Captain. Make sure you have everything you need, we hope you have a restful vacation, ma'am," pilot Joan said, tipping her cap that rested over her eight eyes.

Grabbing the suitcase, Zehra hung it on one finger, resting over her shoulder as the door hissed open. The first thing that bled through the opening was the noise. Endless, senseless, chaotic noise. "This is going to be anything but restful. But thank you for your well wishes, Joan." Zehra raised a brow, eying the pilot sideways. "Eyes to yourself."

Joan coughed. "Yes, ma'am. Permission to comment?"

"Granted."

The pilot glanced back at her, a smirk pulling at her mouth. "You look mighty fine, Captain. I expect we'll be picking up another passenger when your vacation ends." She winked playfully.
Zehra scoffed. "I sure hope not. The last thing I need is to be responsible for the emotional health of some poor sod that believes they'll see me in anything outside of uniform the instant we leave the planet."

But having someone that looks at me for more than my efficiency wouldn't be all bad—would it?

Shaking her head, Zehra took her first step down the transport ramp. She must have been more overworked than she thought to be entertaining such fantasies. Maybe the General was right after all, she needed a vacation, if only to reacquire her sanity.

Creatures she didn't recognize flitted through the air. They appeared to be some sort of failed experiment between a canine and a bird. Nothing about their proportions made sense as to why they were able to fly. One whizzed past, splatting Zehra's cheek in a slobbery kiss. Her suitcase fell from her hand, splitting open.

"You—you thing! That was uncalled for," Zehra growled, trying to squat down and losing her balance on her heels. She fell flat on her back, mud splatting her face and soaking through her dress. With a sigh she stayed there for a moment, staring up at the yellowish green sky barely visible through the thick, winding trees that wrapped around each other as if their branches were roots that attached them all together.

An adorable woman came into her line of vision. Her short, black curly hair ruffled lightly in the breeze, almost stealing the yellow bow from the right side of her pixie. "Are you okay?" Her wide, green eyes seemed apologetic. "I'm sorry about Fiddo, he just gets over excited greeting guests. I'll be sure to scold him most thoroughly later. Can I help you up?" She extended a pastel pink hand.

Zehra took it, allowing the woman to pull her upright. "Thank you."

"No problem!" the woman said, her smile lighting up her face as if the sun had risen behind her.

Why did she have to be so—Zehra cleared her throat, trying not to stare. It was difficult when the much smaller woman was wearing a knee length, black and white checkered dress and knee high boots that actuated her adorableness. It was almost as if she had walked off the cover of some virtual magazine. Starshit. Did Zehra find this stranger adorable?

"I'm Thea, by the way, you must be Captain Zehra. It's a pleasure to have such a high ranking official visit our little planet," Thea said, closing the suitcase and starting toward a distant building. "Follow me, Cap, and I'll ensure your stay is very pleasant." She winked.

The mischievous twinkle in Thea's eye made Zehra's face burn. What was that supposed to imply?