"Trooper CL-1823," Captain Phasma demanded, looking me up and down. "What are you doing without your armor on?" Her voice was cold, and I felt small under her stare.
"I-I'm under doctor's orders to keep it off until I am fit to return to normal duties, Captain." I lowered my eyes as I spoke.
"Doctor's orders?" She scoffed. "And who is your doctor?"
"Dr. Mason." My voice was close to a whisper. "He said the extra weight would be too much of a strain."
Please don't report me, please don't report me, please don't report me.
Phasma was silent for a beat, staring at me through an emotionless helmet. "Very well." She said at last. "Carry on."
"Yes, Captain." I kept my eyes trained on the ground as I passed her, my heart pounding and my breathing shallow. I cut my walking time short and went directly back to the training room where Mason was.
The second I entered he could tell something was wrong. A look of concern creased his facial features as he watched me shake.
"What happened?"
"I-I ran into Captain Phasma."
Realization bloomed across his face. "Is everything alright? You told her you were under orders, right?"
"Yes." I closed my eyes, fighting to steady my breathing. "And she accepted it, but she didn't like it."
Mason placed his hands on my shoulders in attempt at reassurance. "Hey, what's the worse she could do? Yell at you? Tell you to put your armor back on?"
I glanced up at him, frowning. "She could report me."
He seemed confused. "And what would happen then?"
"I could be penalized. Stripped of duties, placed under probation, or," I swallowed shakily. "even imprisoned."
"For not wearing your armor?" Mason was astonished. "That seems extreme."
"But Mason, you don't understand." I blinked several times. "Even if I was only stripped of duties...I would lose my status as a trooper. I would have nothing, I would be nothing. Everything I've ever worked and trained for would be gone." A lump was forming in my throat. "I would be nothing."
Mason's hand squeezed my shoulder. "Hey. Even if you weren't a trooper, you'd have a place here. You could start over, find a new place. Hell, I'd take you on as a nurse in the medical wing. So don't think that you could ever be nothing."
I gazed into his soft green eyes, my heart swelling with affection at his words. He gave me a kind smile. His hands were still on my shoulders, his thumb rubbing my back.
Without entirely knowing what I was doing, I pulled him to me, my hands on his stubbly cheeks. His soft lips met mine. He seemed surprised at first, his posture rigid, but he quickly softened and pulled me closer to him, dropping his hands so his arms could circle my lower back.
When I pulled away, I felt my cheeks burn slightly.
"Sorry, that was... unprofessional."
He shrugged, grinning. His hands were still clasped behind my back. "I don't mind."
Then I remembered something. "Mason?"
"Yes?"
"Why do you have a name?"
He frowned, taken off guard by the sudden change of topic. "Why do I have a name? Because my mother gave me one, I suppose."
"So why don't I have a name? I'm assuming I had a mother."
He unwrapped his arms from around my waist, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't really know. Because you're a trooper, maybe? I know you guys are given codes when you enter the program." He paused. "Why do you ask?"
I gazed at him solemnly. "I want a name."
Mason smiled softly, looking unsure but not voicing his doubts. "Okay, sure. What do you want your name to be?"
I frowned, realizing I had never actually thought about it. "I don't know. My code is CL-1823."
He thought for a moment. "You could try to make something fit with the CL?"
I nodded. "That would be good."
We stared at each other for a moment. I was deep in thought, trying to think of names that would work. Nothing was coming to mind.
"Well, while you think about it, let's start on some light core exercises." Mason suggested.
I agreed, my mind racing as I tried to mentally synthesize a title for myself. It had to be perfect—I wanted something simple, and not too feminine or fancy. I had a hard time concentrating on Mason's instructions for the rest of our session, but I think he understood why, so he didn't complain. He only gave me knowing looks, and didn't complain when I asked him to repeat himself multiple times.
I barely heard him when he told me our time was up, and to go back to the barracks and rest. I was frustrated by my lack of ideas.
I vowed to myself that I would have my name by the end of the week.