>>5957000Your eyes glance over the letters of the Status Report, but your mind is unable to build any coherent words out of them. Frustrated, you put away the tablet and purge its existence from your memory. If there's anything urgent, it will have to wait. Tim's invitation rings in your ear. You should be on guard, and yet... It can't be denied that the past few days have been torture to you. Even though the corridor has been wiped sparkly clean right after the, incident, your eyes continue to see his body propped up against the wall. But as long as you pass him by fast enough, you don't have to hear the hoarse laughter. So things are improving, aren't they?
No, no, they are not. Nothing can change the fact that you have failed, as a superior officer and as a fellow human being. What's worse, after all that? You continue piling corpses on corpses to keep the little secret from leaking out. They may be smugglers, yes. Mutineers, absolutely. Nonetheless, do they not deserve a second chance? Or have their crimes so stripped them of dignity that they can be treated like dogs, made to dance and die at your pleasure? Can you do it? Yes, you have already done it. Must you do it? Yes, you must, there is no choice. But...
It is useless to keep on tormenting yourself, poking a red-hot iron around the still-bleeding wound like this. You resolve to return to Tim and tell him everything. He will judge you, but deep down you know he won't turn on you. Your only fear is that his forgiveness would come too easily, leaving your conscience unsatisfied.
Tim shows you back into his little room, his face obviously worried. “Is everything fine?” He softly asks. “No, nothing is fine, ever since that incident.” You respond unthinkingly.
“Did they do anything to you?” You shake your head. “Then did you do anything to them?” You nod reluctantly. “Tell me about it.” He guides you onto the bed.
After a couple false starts, you are finally able to string words together. “Well, when I first went out to meet them," The sentence is coming together more easily now, "I had already prepared this elaborate plan. I put own the impression of an arrogant airhead, thinking that I would be able to wind these fools around my fingers.” You stop for a brief second to allow the memories to return. “Uhm, I was able to push the ring-leader briefly off balance, but he quickly recovered. It was when I was given the letter that things started to give."
Tim sits right beside you, craning his head to maintain eye contact. “You still sounded fine when you told us about the,” He mouths the word ‘malicitite’ in an imperceptible whisper, “Did something else happen?”
