>>6024710You grab the bottle of bog-whiskey from the trolley, “Follow me, I'm meeting the old man at the airlock. Either we hit it off or I boot him off this ship. Salzar, take over the deck, will you?” The ensign gives a resigned salute as you leave.
After a journey in silence, you finally gather up enough courage to ask Silas the burning question, “I almost had to throw my own second officer into the brig back there. I don't want to rehearse this play again, Si. Nonetheless, why Tim, why? Couldn't you just find someone like yourself? You know, the scoundrel with a heart of gold type.”
Silas chuckles, “Even if there are enough of us out there to fill out a ‘type’, there won't be any left for latecomers like you, Vee. And you'll soon find out the things they always carry with them...” You always had a hunch that his regret extends much further back than your father's deaths, and it keeps getting stronger. What is Silas hiding?
A long while of silence later, the airlock finally opens to reveal Thomas Thanaret. The lower half of his jaw and much of his throat is made of dull steel. You try not to gaze under his hoarse laughter, “What is this, Commander Thornton? You stared down a-whole-nother band of cockroaches like those we just killed and yet you couldn't look an old man in the eye?”
He turns to Silas, “Or perhaps the credit should go to our friend here instead? A landlubber bagging four bogeys on her first run has that magical air to it, don't you think?” Ah, so punchability does run in families. Your first officer mirthlessly replies, “You know better to belittle a fellow officer's valour like so, Commander Thanaret.” Not a hint of annoyance at the demotion. At least he could take as much as he dishes out.
“Anyway, Luang Thanaret, you must be thirsty from the ride, let us drink to the victory.” You quickly unscrew the cap and pour out the amber liquid into the waiting glasses. Wait a minute, didn't the other two bottles have corks instead? You watch in horror as Thanaret gulps down his portion without waiting for a cheer, “Now that's what I'm talking about. I like your style, Thornton, going straight for the heavy stuff. No need for that sissy champagne.” Your heart silently sighs in relief as your wine blindness works out for once.
You gently guide the small talk towards Thanaret's accomplishments. “You must be dying to hear how I got my hands on that beaut of a lass-zer.” Gently smile and nod while refilling his glass. “Well, too long for what little whiskey we had left.” Just as he finished the sentence the son rounded the corner. Tim is nowhere to be seen. “Maybe some other time, eh?”
