You think back to that last conversation with your mother:
After you tell her that you're departing, your mother's face on the tablet screen, still worrisomely bandaged, is locked in a rueful sort of grin. "They're not letting me go," she says, to your utter lack of surprise. Privately, in spite of how expected this was, it's still intensely relieving news. You know better than to actually give voice to this, of course. Not within her hearing. Apart from making her angry, it would also be a little bit hypocritical, with the brave face she's putting on about you being shipped out.
"Stay here and get better," you tell her. "It's not as though you won't be busy."
"Neither of those two would take it too well," she admits. "They're both good at faking it, but..."
"Comparing Mosi to a 12 year old now?" you ask, eyebrows raised.
Nalah rolls her one visible eye ever-so-slightly. "Not what I meant, and you know it. It's hard, though, feeling like I'm... sitting by."
"I know, mother."
"Stay safe, Amani."
"I will."
Mosi had been blunt, unable to hide her quiet distress even so well as Nalah had. You'd spoken to her in the same sitting, still in your quarters on your tablet as you are now, back then using up more of your allotted comm time prior to departure.
"I wish you weren't going," Mosi says, face set in a grim expression.
"I'm an officer of the Empire," you tell her. "I've made a vow."
Mosi looks at you almost skeptically, turning her thoughts over in her head for long seconds. "It's hard to put much stock in vows, at this point," she admits.
"I have a duty."
Mosi sighs. "That either."
"Would you like me to be arrested for desertion?" you ask, eyebrows raising.
Mosi shakes her head. "No. I'd just like you to... not go. Somehow." She scowls at herself, frustrated at the inability to truly express what she's thinking. "I don't want you to die, Amani."
"I don't want that either," you tell her, gently. "But... I know people on Titan, Mosi. And if we don't stop them there, they'll just come back to Iapetus. You know that."
"Better than you do," she agrees, eyes distant. She's silent for a long moment after that, long enough that you worry about using up your allotment. "Please stay safe," she says, finally.
"I'll do my best," you tell her. It's all you can do.
