>>5974402Your right cheek heats up at the mere thought of confronting Tim again, your ears ringing from the memory of his verbal assault. These childish instincts must be set aside. Tim is in custody now, hands cuffed and feet chained; there is nothing he can do to you. Even so, the prospects of facing the man alone is daunting enough that you would rather risk Silas' ire instead.
“Can you, uh, come in with me? Help me talk him down. Please?” Your first officer says nothing, but his eyes soften ever so slightly. Recognising the hope he inadvertently gave to you Silas quickly turns away. His voice hardens, “Just promise me you won't make any more impulsive decisions from now on, okay? At this rate you'll bleed the crew dry before Molosses is in sight.”
Silas has batted a home run right into your gut. There's no denying it, your actions over the past few weeks have caused more trouble for Silas than anything. Still, “but it's not all my-” “No buts, just yes or no.” Another loud holler from the guard room. Someone must have swept the table. “Yes, I promise. Sorry for causing you so much headache."
He rubs his head, “Good, we're on the same page then. And I'm sorry too. For putting it in your head that you're on top of this Shitville.” You follow his gaze through the one-way mirror into the interrogation room. Tim is staring right back. He can't see you, can't he? “A piece of work, ain't it not? Talks feather, hits brick. Saved our skin more than a couple times during the Stiefenholm rout," he chuckles uncomfortably, “I'm sorry, I mean strategic redeployment. You should have seen him make that light destroyer dance.”
Yes, you have gotten so comfortable with Tim taking orders that you almost forget he is actually more senior than Silas. You smile a little, not unlike a student fresh out of detention eager to win back the headmaster's grace, “Father must have liked him very much, then?”
Silas gently shakes his head while dusting off a faded memory. “No, not really. He saw no point fighting so hard when you weren't even paid by the hour. Bravery, honour, devotion, all for what? Can't bring men's praises with you to the grave. Assuming you have any. Like father like daughter.” This time's a foul. You're nowhere near that pragmatic, you hope.
“And in the end I think he was right. Johnson could, should, have been celebrated as a war hero. If only he had stayed on script and smiled when he was told.” Tim suddenly stands up from his seat and raises his hand as high as the cuffs would allow. Silas traces lines on the window with his finger, “He certainly never regretted it.”
“Enough talking from me. Before we go in, what's plan B?” Well, he has already given you a great idea, “What you did earlier was absolutely brilliant. Keep working on that angle, and we'll soon have a slugproof case against Tim." His brows furrow ever so slightly. You hastily add, "But that's only if we fail to convince him.”
