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Something's been on my mind lately. Do my Rescue Officers have enough responsibility and autonomy? Is there something I should be doing differently? I worry. I can't stop worrying. Am I doing everything I should be as their captain?
Erma stared at the tear-stained page of her diary, upset swirling in her stomach. It felt as if just yesterday her father retired, passing on the title of captain to her, the eldest child. Having such big shoes to fill was overwhelming back then, but that anxiety only seemed to get worse as time moved on. Her father, her grandparents, her ancestors had this legacy, this expectation they had unwillingly set, one that Shepherd was unsure she could ever reach.
This was her first big mission, out so far from home, but if it weren’t for the rookie staying behind at HQ, they would all likely have died before anyone answered their distress signal. The crash, while horrific, was unavoidable, but it didn’t stop her from somehow blaming herself for it. It was a nasty habit that she couldn’t quite get rid of.
Her words had begun to smudge on the page, and she wiped her eyes. When her flannelette sleeve came back soaked and stained with mascara, she put the diary and pen aside. She hopped off the edge of the bed and sat next to Oatchi.
The yellow space pup was curled up on a big dog bed Erma insisted they bring, he stirred when he buried her face in his thick fur. Getting a face full of fluff never failed to comfort her when she was younger, so there was no reason it shouldn’t work now. Oatchi tried to crane his neck around and lick her, whining when he couldn’t quite reach. She pulled away and scratched behind his ears.
“Sorry to wake you, Oats. I was just feeling a little sad.”
He sniffed and licked her face, not letting the grogginess stop him from showing his unending affection for her. Shepherd laughed and leaned back on him, looking up at the glowing stars on the ceiling.
The gnawing anxiety clung to her like a parasite and drained her of any lasting confidence, leaving her feeling as if she were walking on eggshells. At any moment something could go horribly wrong, it could ruin the reputation the Rescue Corps had built over 98 generations. Everything could just fall away like sand between her fingers.
She rolled onto her side and spoke into Oatchi’s fur, hoping that verbalising some of these thoughts would feel better than writing them down.
“I feel like I’m not doing enough… The rookie is always hard at work, but all I can do is sit back and watch as they throw themself at danger. I’m worried about them, and I’m worried about you, little buddy. You’re not gonna be around forever, but I’m not sure I can stand the thought of losing you, or anyone else.”
Oatchi huffed and stretched out his back, groaning. Oh, how could such a tough puppy be so damn adorable?
“I wish I could just stop worrying, because it’s getting in the way of my work, and I feel like I’m starting to distance myself. I don’t like that. It makes me feel stupid, like, who has this much trouble managing something so simple?! Stars, this is so dumb—”
ARF!
She yelped when Oatchi suddenly jumped up, dropping her on the floor.
Ah, even though he could never truly understand the words she said, the puppy always had this sixth sense whenever she started beating herself up. The two had been inseparable since he and his siblings were born. Erma was only a small child then, but she still remembered how quickly he took to her.
Before she had the chance to get lost in her head again, Shepherd, in her vulnerable position, was coated in dog slobber. The soft fuzz tickled her face and neck, and she couldn’t help but laugh, weakly pushing Oatchi’s face away.
“O-okay okay! That’s enough, lemme up!”
He relented for a moment, tail wagging as she sat up. She actually felt a lot better than before.
“Thanks Oats.”
Ruff!
Erma yawned, just now realising how late it was. If she wanted to start the day early as usual, she needed all the sleep she could get. As she climbed into bed, Oatchi joined her, curling up at her feet even though his own bed had much more space.
She saw her diary had been left sitting on her bedside table. Looking over the recent entry, she picked up her pen and added one final comment.
I must be kinder to myself, I know that my crew are willing to help with that.
-Erma Shepherd, Captain in Command.