“Good morning, sunshine!”

Jack awoke to find Julie standing over him, smiling compassionately. He checked his surroundings and quickly realized he was in the med bay on Deck 8. He breathed a sigh of relief—the battle must have ended. To his left, in a sealed glass box, was Arda, lying motionless with a thermal blanket draped across her body. Noticing his alarm, the nurse reassured him:

“Don’t worry, she’s just sleeping off the oxygen intoxication. She’ll be fine after we patch up her suit!”

“Private Scheer?” Jack mumbled, struggling to lift his head.

“I’m sorry.” Julie grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. “The neurotoxin got to him before we knew what was happening. It would have killed you too if Dr. Liu hadn’t told us to look for it. Hell of a brain on that guy, huh?”

Jack sank back into the bed, defeated. It’s as if Mr. Okoro had seen the future. He had, indeed, ordered someone he considered a friend to their death. Or had he? He didn’t even know the kid’s first name. They weren’t truly friends. A comrade, perhaps. And would it have been any worse if it was some faceless nobody? At least with Scheer, he could say that he was earnestly grieving him, and would remember his sacrifice.

“And Sergeant Mendel?” he asked reticently, dreading more bad news.

“He’s not out of the woods yet,” Julie answered, still holding his hand, “but Dr. Singh expects him to make a full recovery.” In a slightly more cheerful tone, she continued: “You, on the other hand, are basically good as new. A sprained ankle, some cuts and bruises, and a few patches of second-degree burns on your chest and abdomen. You’ll be walking—or at least limping—out of here in a few hours, don’t worry.”

With these encouraging words, she let go of his hand and left the room, giving a brief signal to someone outside. A few moments later, Eve rushed into the room, a concerned look on her face.

“Did you get hurt playing hero again, dumbass?” she chastised him playfully.

“Afraid so,” Jack replied with a wide smile as she lightly punched his shoulder.

"I’ve got news. Lots of news." Eve continued, her tone suddenly becoming serious.

"Bad news, as usual?" Jack hid his concern behind a self-deprecating joke.

"That remains to be seen. Dr. Liu convinced Major Barrett that our only chance was bringing all the processing centers back online. Oh, and he wants to see you, as soon as you’re up."

"Barrett?" Jack asked, trying to hide his surprise.

"The man himself. Down at the detention facilities. I’d tell you to be careful, but I’m pretty sure by this point that you’re simply fundamentally incapable of that." Eve returned to her playful tone.

"It’s not as if he’s just going to arrest me, after all this time, is he?" Jack asked rhetorically, before continuing in earnest: "Is he?"

"Probably not," Eve replied casually; she obviously wasn’t worried.

With slight difficulty, Jack got out of his bed, doing his best not to step on his injured ankle. He grabbed his clothes under his arm and limped toward the bathroom to put them on.

"Need any help?" Eve asked, with a hint of affectionate mockery.

"I think I’ll manage," Jack replied, slightly blushing, as he closed the curtain behind him.

As he struggled to get dressed, he tried his best not to let any of his clothes touch the damp, wet floor of the cheap prefab bathroom that had been hastily installed in the med bay—a task he was not quite successful at. Dressed to the best of his abilities, he quickly left the unpleasant room behind, once again struggling not to put any weight on his ankle. Was Barrett dragging him around the ship just to force him to walk? He briefly entertained the possibility, although it seemed too petty for the Major. No, whatever Barrett wanted from him, it was something serious.

“You coming with?” he asked Eve, trying to put on a brave face.

“I wasn’t aware that I was invited,” she replied dryly.

“I wasn’t aware that you’d care,” he shot back.

“Fine. Whatever he wants, you could probably use the backup,” Eve conceded, and they both began walking toward the elevator.

Briefly looking inside the other rooms as they moved along, Jack saw dozens upon dozens of wounded soldiers and crew members. The battle against the creatures had clearly taken a heavy toll on the ship’s crew. An uneasy feeling washed over him as he contemplated their future. He couldn’t tell whether Barrett was trying to take advantage of the chaos to consolidate his hold on power or if things were bad enough that he was willing to bury the hatchet for good.

“Jack! Ms. Nakayama!” They were stopped in their tracks by Dr. Liu, who was unsuccessfully trying to mask his concern. “Are you heading to the detention area?”

“Yes. Will you be joining us?” Jack asked incredulously.

“The Major asked me to set up the translation field in one of the rooms. Apparently, he’s going to interrogate one of the Kharlath.”

“That can’t be good,” Jack observed, mostly to himself.

“There’s another matter I wanted to discuss with you, something more… personal.” Dr. Liu glanced at Eve, seemingly debating whether to have this conversation in front of her, before continuing: “Do you remember when I asked you for advice? Concerning my, um, dating life?”

“You asked her?” Jack blurted out, surprised.

“I did. It was in the heat of battle; I didn’t know if either of us was making it out alive, so I decided to take my chances. Anyway, she’s married.” Liu sounded surprisingly upbeat.

“I’m sorry.” Jack laid a hand on the scientist’s shoulder.

“Don’t be! I actually wanted to thank you. You gave me the confidence to ask her out, and, you know, it wasn’t so bad. Even if she said no, nothing bad happened.”

“You expected something bad to happen?” Eve interjected, failing to hide her amusement.

“Yes, well, I’ve never had much luck, romantically.” Dr. Liu’s mannerisms suddenly turned dejected. “A good rejection always beats a bad rejection. Or a bad acceptance, now that I think about it.”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

“So, how are the repairs coming along?” Jack clumsily tried to change the subject. “I hear Barrett agreed to turn on all the processing centers.”

“Yes, we’ve been working on it all day!” Dr. Liu’s tone shifted back to his usual excitement. “It should be done by tomorrow morning at the latest. Then, well, we just have to hope the ship isn’t too mad at us.”

“We’re here.” Eve cut their conversation short as a guard gestured for them to follow him to one of the detention rooms.

Walking inside the small, cramped chamber that served as the interrogation room, Jack was startled to find a large, older-seeming Kharlath strapped to a chair, in a shocking state of mistreatment. His armor had been haphazardly stripped off his body, leaving him covered in bits and pieces of metal loosely hanging from a few bloody rags. His face and most of his body were covered in cuts and bruises, and he was missing a large portion of his frill, with boney stumps clearly visible behind a clumsily applied bandaged.

Noticing his disgust at the sight, Major Barrett, who was sitting opposite the Kharlath in a casual position, gestured for Jack to sit before addressing him in a mocking tone:

“You’re assuming we did that to him, aren’t you?” He let out a small laugh. “It was his own people. We saved him, in fact, right as they were about to kill him. Do we have translation?” He turned to Dr. Liu, who seemed to shrink under his gaze.

“Yes sir, it should be working.” The scientist replied, meekly

“I can understand you.” The Kharlath confirmed, in a quiet but firm voice

“Can you state your name and rank?” Barrett asked him, dismissively

“My name is not for your ears to hear, and I currently hold no rank.” The Kharlath met Barrett with the same dismissive tone.

“Can you tell us why your people did this to you? Why you were beaten and almost killed?” the Major continued in the same tone of voice

“I gave the order to surrender. Therefore, in accordance with our laws I was stripped of all ranks and titles, and sentenced to receive the warrior’s mercy.”

“The warrior’s mercy?” Jack spoke up for the first time, his curiosity getting the better of him

“Death by combat.” The Kharlath explained, studying Jack intently for the first time. “The accused is allowed to face all those who would stand against them in battle. If they should triumph, all their crimes are forgiven. They usually do not.”

“You saved all their lives, and they’re willing to beat you to death for it. Are these people worthy of your loyalty?” Barrett asked, derisively

“You misunderstand, Human. This is not a punishment for failure. The warriors under my command are grateful that I ordered them to lay down their weapons. It is simply the price that must be paid, to ensure that surrender is never considered out of cowardice.” The Kharlath’s eyes stared intently at the Major as he spoke, never blinking. His face did not betray a single hint of emotion, at least none that Jack recognized.

“And what of your leaders, who fled in the heat of battle? Was that not cowardice? You would gladly give your life upholding their laws, so do you not expect the same of them?” Barrett continued, unabated.

“Your attempts to anger me are as futile as they are transparent, warlord. My leaders did not flee; they went to fight your forces, while you cowered in the shadows, waiting for your chance to steal this vessel.” The Kharlath stared the Major in the face, unmoved by his words.

“I am no warlord,” Barrett retorted, visibly annoyed. “We outgrew the need for those centuries ago. A pity that your kind could not do the same.”

The Kharlath let out an unexpectedly high-pitched growl, probably intended to mock Barrett’s reply, before regaining his composure and continuing in the same dispassionate, monotone voice: “But you are, Human, if not in title then at least in deeds. It is an address of respect, as you are a worthy adversary. As cruel and devious as any Kharlath I’ve known.”

Jack couldn’t tell how much of the Kharlath’s words were sincere and how much were simply intended to rile up Barrett, but what was certain was that they succeeded, with the Major visibly annoyed.

“I take no pleasure in my actions. I am simply doing what I can to protect my kind and our allies,” Barrett retorted, trying to rein in his frustration. “You were the ones who started this war. You decided to become our enemies.”

For the first time, Jack could see emotions on the Kharlath’s face and hear them in his tone of voice. It was not anger or mockery but seemingly sincere confusion: “What do you mean, we started the war? We did not start war any more than we started gravity. It is simply the natural order of things.”

“The Iridonians welcomed you into their home as friends!” Barrett yelled, now visibly angered. “And you butchered them in their beds and bombarded them from orbit!”

“A craven ruse. Are we to blame for seeing through it?”

“There was no ruse, no stratagem!” the Major continued, growing even angrier. “The Iridonians were a peaceful race; they didn’t even have weapons. You were in no danger!”

“Tell me, warlord, is it true that the Humans are all of one clan, that you all speak the same language?” The Kharlath suddenly changed the subject.

“Yes, I suppose,” Barrett replied, somewhat taken off guard.

“And was it always this way?” the Kharlath continued.

“No. Once upon a time, it was a language only spoken on a small island. The island I happen to be from, as a matter of fact. What exactly is your point?”

“My point is that, if you have your way, the whole galaxy will be speaking your language. Centuries ago, there were hundreds of clans on our homeworld, each with their own languages and cultures. By the time we left, there were only five. By now, I’d expect that there’s only Clan Jihara. And this conquest, it wasn’t carried out with violence and bloodshed alone. No, most clans joined together willingly, yet they died out all the same. Conquest is conquest. Whether by steel or by guile, there will always be those who survive and those who fade away. And we have no intention of fading away!”

“So that’s it, then?” The fire reawakened in Barrett’s voice. “Kill or be killed, that’s all you see of the world? You wiped out an entire civilization! Billions of people gone, and you think it was justified?”

“And what exactly bothers you? That an entire civilization was wiped out, or that it was the wrong one?” The Kharlath wrestled against his restraints as his voice rose to a terrible growl, overpowering any other sound in the room. “Do you expect me to say that what we did to the Iridonians was evil, and monstrous, and barbaric? It was! And it was also the right choice! It was the only choice! We left our world with nothing, and now everyone trembles at the very whispers of our name! We came as beggars, and we will remain as kings, and for that, any price is worth paying!”

Barrett jumped over the table, smacking the Kharlath in the face. The restraints groaned as the Kharlath pulled at them with all his might, and the chair scraped against the floor, but the Major did not budge. Inches away, the two warriors stared each other down, unblinking, for a few seconds, as everyone else in the room reeled back. Barrett finally broke the silence, speaking in a surprisingly calm tone:

“I will not sit here and listen to you justify genocide. There is nothing you can say that will make what happened right. I just want you to know that this is a path you chose to go down. There was another way. What is going to happen to your people, your children, even your homeworld in time—that is something you chose for yourselves. I have no blood on my hands!”

The Kharlath let out another high-pitched howl, his tone shifting to bemusement, dripping with venom. “Are you telling that to me, or to yourself? You lecture me on genocide while you hold the lives of our mother and children over our heads! If only you saw your reflection, you would try to kill it, as you would not recognize the monster before you!”

“Enough! This is pointless,” Barrett yelled out as he began to walk away. “You will be returned to your people in the morning, to do with you as they please. I suggest you begin praying to whatever gods you might have.”

“If there are any gods who listen to men like ourselves, warlord,” the Kharlath spoke in a soft, measured voice, “I don’t believe they’re the kind of gods you want hearing your prayers.”

As Barrett stormed out of the room, Jack followed him, with Eve and Dr. Liu, both stunned from the exchange, trailing behind.

“Now you see what you needed to see!” Barrett turned to Jack without slowing down. “There is no negotiation, no compromise! These are rabid animals, and we need to put them down!”

“He is not wrong, you know. About you. If he’s a rabid animal, then so are you!” Jack yelled out, bracing himself for the Major’s reply.

“You are right, of course.” Barrett suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face the stunned Jack. “I am no better than them. I don’t get that luxury. Evil men win wars so good men can sleep soundly in their beds. That is the fundamental truth of all civilization!”

“Where are you going?” Jack asked, dreading the reply.

“You know where I’m going. You know exactly what needs to be done. It’s time to grow up, Nereus.”

Jack had known this moment was inevitable for weeks. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, there was a lingering fragment of hope. Hope that it wouldn’t come to that, that it could be avoided somehow. But it was always going to be this way. Barrett was about to wipe out an entire Kharlath clan, and Jack had to make his choice. Was he going to stand aside and let him do it? Or was he going to start a mutiny?