“It’s been 349 days,” she told me. “Enough is enough. It’s time to let it go.”

“No,” I replied, shaking my head so hard that my braids whipped around my face. “No. I can make this work. I just need more time.” I squinted at the tablet in my hands, willing the numbers on it to change. The people had to like me, to approve of me. Why else had they elected me to serve as their leader?

Isvette, my trusted advisor and only remaining friend, ran her ring-clad fingers across her shaved head and sighed. “Look,” she said, “did it ever occur to you that they were setting you up to fail?”

The tablet in my hand clattered to my desk. I jerked my head toward Isvette, horrified. “What? Why? Why would they do that?”

“You represent everything they hate.” She ticked things off on her fingers. “Your education. The number of credits in your account. The very skin that you wear, like a cloak of pride instead of a badge of shame.”

I closed my eyes, and leaned forward until my forehead rested against the desk I’d inherited as Commander. It was wood; real, honest to Goddess wood, from a real tree, the likes of which no one onboard the ship had ever seen. I inhaled the faux lemon scent of the cleaner I’d used just that morning to polish the surface of the desk to a shine.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Set a course to the nearest habitable star.”

“But-”

“If they hate me so much, they’ll live without me.”

“But-”

“Just do it, Isvette. This is my last act as Commander.” I sat up, and reached for her. She came to me easily, sliding her palm against mine. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s been 349 days. Enough is enough.” I touched a button with my toe. The shields in my office opened with a low hum, exposing the vastness of the uncharted space all around us. I drank in the view, muttering, “349. 349. 349.”

Sumayyah Talibah © 4 January 2018

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