Benji sat in the chair in front of the military psychiatrist’s desk. It was plastic and scratchy, it felt good though as he ran his hands along the sides, grounding almost.

"You've been through quite an ordeal Benji... going down like that and ending up in enemy territory."

"I'm staying on duty. Please Doc, they can't discharge me."

The doctor shifted uncomfortably behind the desk and leaned forward, his chin propped up by his crossed hands.

"Benji it's been seven days since the incident. Can you honestly tell me you've made a full recovery?"

"Nothing to recover from, just a few cuts and bruises."

"I meant psychologically Benji. PTSD can..."

"I don't have PTSD." Benji sighed and looked up, he knew the doctor was just trying to help, he was a decent guy, and yeah, if it were the other round and Benji was listening to some pilot claiming he was rescued by aliens, he would probably be throwing terms like, 'trauma' and 'unfit mental state' around too.

But seriously, Benji knew what he had seen. He didn't hit his head in the crash, and he knew he was drugged, although Medical claimed to have found nothing on his tox-screen.

How was that even possible?

Benji remembered the figure with the syringe, he could even remember the colour of it, whatever they pumped him full of - orange, like bright orange.

Benji remembered an aircraft of sorts, but he couldn't remember it making any sound, he also remembered explosions of light and then...those figures...like something out of a science fiction movie, cyclopean masks (faces?) and rubbery skin.

Benji could remember them lifting him...and then...well then nothing. That was just it, he couldn't remember anything else because he was drugged. Not that anyone would believe him.

"You've been taken off the mission next week," The doctor was speaking to him again now.

"What? But I've done all the prep, we've been prepping for this for weeks!"

"I'm sorry Benji, I just can't medically approve you to go."

Benji groaned and leaned forward, his face in his hands. "What if I told you, - okay no aliens! But somehow I did turn up back at Mikos after crashing in enemy territory, I just don't know how I got here?"

"I'm afraid that still indicates some serious memory loss and possible trauma Benji. Look, if it were up to me I'd just let you rest up for a while but..." The doc paused, looking awkward. Benji knew what was coming.

"They want to discharge me on medical grounds don't they?"

The other man sighed in confirmation.

"I'm not crazy Doc."

Yeah, famous last words.

***

Benji sat at the refectory table reading the latest letter from his mom telling him how proud she was of him. It sent stabbing pains right through his heart.

"You okay Benji?" He looked up and saw Finley. Finley was primarily a weapons engineer but he also served as ground crew on some of Benji's missions, thankfully not his latest one.

"Yeah, thanks Finley, just kind of dealing with being the weird kid in the playground that no one wants to talk to."

Finley offered a smile, "Yeah I've heard, I'm sorry Benji. Sounds like you've had a real rough week."

Benji sighed and folded up his mom's letter. It looked like he might be delivering the reply in person. "It's okay dude, but hey, who was that girl you were talking to earlier, she was asking you about some ammo stocks?"

"Oh Merit?"

"Yeah, is she from Mikos? I haven't seen her around Base before," Benji asked, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

Finley grinned knowingly, "Nah, apparently she got transferred here just over a week ago. She says she's part of the listening operations based on the North side."

"What does a listening station want with ammo?" Benji frowned suspiciously.

"Beats me," Finley shrugged, setting his tray down. "So...er, are you..."

"Being shipped back home in a box labelled 'Fragile'? Yeah probably."

Benji sighed mournfully and tried to picture the girl from that morning. Typical that she would arrive right whilst he was being forced to leave.

"That sucks dude."

"Yeah."

They finished lunch and Benji got up but his eye caught on something...something orange. It was a stain down the front of a guy's T-shirt, looked like a liquid spill or something, it was small but it was bright orange.

Benji glanced up at the guy in question, he was perhaps in his early to mid twenties, short dirty blond hair, caramel skin, big teeth, smiling widely. Benji hadn't seen him around before.

Benji shook his head, it was probably just a coincidence, but seriously, how many things could spill lurid orange at a military base in the middle of the desert?

Benji bit his lip. He was alone at the table, Finley had already left. It was time to make a decision. He found himself crossing the refectory before he knew what he was doing. Benji stood in front of the guy with the stain before he had even thought to formulate words.

"Hello?" A raven haired small girl from beside the other guy prompted him.

"Oh hi! Sorry, I'm Benji Smith, one of the helicopter pilots for the camp. I was just wondering um...where you guys worked? I haven't seen you around before."

He glanced round the table, the girl and another lanky blond guy looked confused but the one with the orange stain was staring at Benji weirdly.

"Oh. Well my name's Sydney, this is Toby and Bay. We work at the listening station on the north side. It's new," Sydney tacked on by way of explanation.

"Oh! Then you must know Merit?" Benji was really thinking on his feet now. Sydney looked even more confused, then she narrowed her eyes at him,

"Yes. We work with Merit Cooper. How is it you know her?"

"Oh...er...she was asking me and my friend about ammo stocks - oh shoot, the time! Gotta go, late for a medical appointment!" Benji wheeled round and charged out the refectory.

He had all he needed to know - the look on the Pereira guy's face. Recognition.