I saw her walking past the open hatchway, dress flowing like a veil of mist, black hair cascading around her even blacker eyes. She smiled and then she was gone…

“Silas, get your head out of your ass! Are you in or out?”

“Umm…” I stammered, glancing back down at the cards I’d forgotten I was holding. “In.” The chips clattered as I tossed them onto the pile. Connor’s eyes darted between the cards in his hands and the three already shown. The bowl of cigar butts--along with his meager holdings--hinted that he was not doing well.

“I’m out,” he finally snapped, hurling his cards down against the table.

“Pussy,” David chided as he doubled the bet.

“God damnit,” Phillip groaned. “I’m out too I guess.” David grinned at me across the pot, his favorite silver chip flitting between his fingers as it always did when he was trying to distract you.

“Well, well, well… I guess it’s just you and me, Silas. What’s it going to be? Are you going to back out with your tail between your legs like these losers or do you actually have a pair of balls on you?” I called his raise without comment.

“Alright!” he said, clapping his hands together with glee. “Doctor Holiday, would you kindly rack ‘em up for us?”

The doctor deftly slipped another card from the top of the deck and flipped it over next to the others. Doctor Holiday never played but he loved dealing, as though he got off on not only watching others gamble, but being the hands that decided their fates. I often theorized that this backseat addiction also explained his choice of profession.

Another round of betting, another helping of David’s bravado, another wave of my hand to keep the clogging smoke from Phillip and Connor’s cigars at bay.

“And here comes the river,” Doctor Holiday declared, raising the final card high above his head before slamming it down in fine dramatic fashion. It was a four.

“Well,” David said, “What’ve you got over there, Silas?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I shot back. He flipped one of his cards over with the other.

“Two pair, aces and nines.” I nodded thoughtfully and turned my own cards over without ceremony.

“Three fours.” Phillip laughed and flicked some embers in David’s direction.

“Ain’t that a bitch.”

“You know the rules, gentlemen. Drink up,” I said with a touch of pride. They all groaned and pulled their chosen bottles out from under the table.

“Start,” I said. David, Phillip, and Connor tilted their heads back and began swallowing mouthfuls of fire.

“One… Two… and… wait for it… Three.” The much-lightened bottles clanked down against the table and my friends hurled a string of insults my direction between sputtering coughs. Doctor Holiday collected everyone’s cards and shuffled the deck with practiced care. The deck itself was far from regulation. Haphazardly built from many different manufacturers and with almost a dozen different styles and colors, we’d long ago stopped trying to limit each number to four of a kind. It wasn’t unheard of for someone to win with seven of a kind or what we called a “Catholic family portrait flush.”

Tiny footsteps sounded against the bulkhead and a tiny knock on the door made us all turn.

“Silas,” a tiny voice whined, “I can’t sleep.” Micah stumbled into the room in his dinosaur pajamas, rubbing his eyes with one hand and dragging his favorite stuffed cheetah behind him with the other.

“Oh no,” Phillip said, reaching for his belt. Tired as he was, Micah was faster. His finger gun whipped up and he shouted, “Pow!” before Phillip’s finger had even left its holster. After pretending to die, Phillip pulled my brother onto his lap and ruffled his already ruffled hair.

“Well, little man, I see you’ve still got the fastest trigger finger around.”

“No.” I stated flatly. “He can’t stay. Come on, Micah, I’ll tuck you back into bed.”

“But, Silas,” he whined even more pitifully than before. “I want to stay up with Uncle Phillip and Uncle Connor and Uncle David.”

“Yeah, Silas,” Connor mumbled around his newest cigar. “Stop being such an asshole and let him hang out for a while. Mostly I just don’t want to have to wait until you get back to play another hand, but you know, it builds character and shit.”

“No.” I repeated.

“Why not?” David asked.

“Why not? Are… are you kidding me right now? Let’s see… It’s four hours past his bedtime, we’re blatantly gambling, you guys have been swearing like sailors with tourettes all night, we’re drinking excessive amounts of alcohol, Phillip and Connor have puffed through so many cigars that it looks like a smoke grenade went off in here, do I need to go on? Do you need more reasons than that?”

“Actually,” Phillip said, raising his hand, “I would like one or two more reasons before I decide whether or not to change my vote.” He answered my burning glare with a smile and knocked back a mouthful of rum. Micah giggled and I barely resisted the urge to flick him on the ear.

“Can we just play?” Connor asked, wiping sweat from his forehead with the same filthy handkerchief I’d noticed before. “I’m getting bored as shit over here. Stays, goes, can’t we figure it out over another hand? Holiday, cards please… will you please just deal me some damn cards?”

“Connor, are you alright?” Doctor Holiday asked, leaning in to examine him. “You look pale and your eyes are dilated.”

“Yeah,” he said impatiently, “I’m fine. I just want to play some poker.” Another knock on the door rang out and Connor threw his hands into the air. “For the love of God, what now?”

“How fitting,” purred a gravelly voice, “that the first thing I hear in this den of sin is the Lord’s name being taken in vain.”

Father Gregory strode into the room, hands in sleeves, scalp gleaming with scented oils, Terence dutifully lagging a step back and to his right.

“Hello, father,” Doctor Holiday said. “How are you this evening?”

“I am, as always, utterly content while doing the Lord’s work, Doctor.”

“I’m sure you are,” Doctor Holiday replied a little too seriously.

“What brings you to our weekly poker night, Father?” David asked. “Would you and Terence like to join us for a hand or two?”

“Thank you for that gracious offer, but regretfully, we were here on dire business. Mr. Connelly, Doctor Holiday, Captain Strevko has formally requested your presence at an emergency disciplinary hearing.”

“That’s it?” I asked. “You came to tell us something the Captain could have sent with any of the runners? And I assume you dragged Terence here just so you could still feel important while being a good little errand boy.” Father Gregory’s lips pursed into a thin smile and he replied,

“Mr. Connelly, I’m glad to see you are providing such a good, moral environment for young Micah.” My brother stuck out his tongue and Father Gregory’s smile widened. “But pleasantries aside, you did bring up an interesting point. Terence is not here to carry my apparently enormous ego. Rather, he is here acting as a deputy in Captain Strevko’s name.” He cleared his throat, stepped forward, and turned to face his newest prey.

“Connor Charles Lindsbuck,” he began with the utmost solemnity. “You are hereby charged with larceny, hoarding, immoral conduct, and detracting from the general well being. Your trial will begin immediately and your sentence, or absolvement, will be carried out without delay. You may accompany Terence to the Council Chambers willingly, or if you choose to resist, he will employ any and all force necessary to accomplish his duties.”

Terrance stepped forward. Connor knocked his chair over in an attempt to scramble away. I immediately drew my pistol and aimed it squarely at Terence’s head.

“How about, if you touch my friend without explaining what the hell is going on, I blow your Goddamn brains out.” Before I could even blink, Father Gregory grabbed me by the wrist and wrenched my arm around. Muscles spasmed and the gun fell from my nerveless fingers into the preacher’s waiting palm. He released the magazine, ejected the round in the chamber, and presented it back to me as though I had dropped it hurrying past him at a bus stop.

“We wouldn’t want anyone doing something they’d regret,” He said, the skeletal smile never leaving his face. I massaged my aching wrist as Connor was led from the room, extremely personal insults and savage kicks making Terence pay dearly every step towards the Council Chambers.

“I’ll put Micah to bed,” Phillip said hurriedly, hefting my brother onto his shoulder. He looked at me with so many different emotions as he was carried away that I couldn’t tell how I should look back. I settled for a wave that he did not return.

“Come on, Silas,” Doctor Holiday said, cautiously patting me on the shoulder. “Let’s go find out what all this hoopla is about.”

“How did he do that?” I asked no one in particular, concern for my friend wiped away by the hand of confusion. “How the hell did that bastard get the drop on me?”

Benny Kennedy was lighting the candles as we entered. I hadn’t stepped foot in the Council Chambers since I gave my report on the botched patrol all those months before. It still smelled like mold and scrutiny. A pair of dining room tables with five accompanying armchairs, five glasses of water, five pens, and five pads of paper brooded at the far end of the compartment. Captain Strevko and Father Gregory were already seated. Six rows of eights chairs each guaranteed any who wished to attend the proceedings had a place to sit, though as would be expected, no spectators had turned out for this unannounced hearing in the middle of the night. There was one other chair, in the exact center of the room, bolted to the floor, chains eagerly waiting for the next person unlucky enough to have to prove their own innocence.

Doctor Holiday and I strode towards the combined tribunal table and he took his seat on the captain’s left side. Instead of following him, I went around to the other side and stopped in front of Father Gregory.

“Preacher, can I talk to you for a second?” He looked at me for a moment and then slid his chair back.

“Of course, Silas.” I led him a short distance away and mumbled,

“Thank you…”

“What?” He asked. “I didn’t hear you, my son.”

“I said thank you for stopping me from making a mistake. My emotions got away from me and I’ll try not to let it happen again.” He nodded graciously.

“My only desire is to be of the greatest service to those in need. Perhaps, if you find yourself so troubled in the future, you would consider coming to confession.” I rolled my eyes and walked away.

“Well played, kid,” Doctor Holiday said as I plopped down in my armchair.

“Can’t have him holding a grudge when he’s about to judge one of my best friends for some bullshit crimes, can I?”

“I suppose not.”

The door creaked open and Mrs. Anderson hurried across the floor as fast as her fuzzy pink slippers could handle.

“Sorry,” she apologized breathlessly. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, I was fast asleep when word reached me. I promise I came as quickly as I could.”

“It’s quite alright,” Captain Strevko assured her as she sat down at the opposite end of the table. “Well, now that we are all here, we can begin, yes?” No complaints came forward so he struck his gavel against the block. “Bailiff, please escort the accused to his seat.” Benny Kennedy exited the chamber and then returned with Connor. My friend’s hands were still cuffed and he now had a sack over his head. He seemed to have calmed down considerately at least. He didn’t resist when his ankles were locked to the chair, or when his hands were set free, though he did look a touch overwhelmed when the sack was pulled off.

“Mr. Connor Charles Lindsbuck,” Benny Kennedy began, taking his place against the side wall. “You have been brought here upon accusations of larceny, hoarding, immoral conduct, and detracting from the general well being. How do you plead?”

“That this is some total bullshit,” he spat. Benny Kennedy continued without comment.

“Your trial will be conducted by the five ranking members of our community: Mrs. Delaney Anderson, instructor of our youth, Father Gregory, guardian of our immortal souls, Captain Nikolai Strevko, commander of the Ascension and all those aboard, Doctor Mathew Holiday, medical expert and chief officer of public health, and Joseph Connelly, chief officer of the scavenging corps, who has sent Silas Connelly as a proxy to speak on his behalf.” Yet another responsibility my father had abandoned, leaving me to take his place like a similarly-shaped piece from a different puzzle. “Do you have any questions?”

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Why did you just introduce me to people I’ve known my entire life?” Connor asked.

“So no?”

“No.”

“Very well,” Benny Kennedy said as he turned to face us. “Which of the Council has charged the defendant with his crimes?”

“I have,” Captain Strevo answered. “Suspicion of Mr. Lindsbuck’s crimes were brought to my attention and I gave the witness several days to consider the charges he was proposing. When his conviction did not waver, I called together this hearing.” He turned to either side and looked at each of us in turn. “I apologize for inconveniencing you all with this late hour, but based on the evidence I have already been provided, I do not think proceedings will take long.”

“What evidence?” Connor asked. “What the hell are you even talking about?” Captain Strevko seemed to ignore him and motioned to his bailiff.

“Mr. Kennedy, would you please be so kind as to fetch our witness? We do not want to keep our defendant in the dark for longer than is absolutely necessary to satisfy protocol, yes?” Benny Kennedy left a second time and we waited in thick, uncomfortable silence. I glanced over at Mrs. Anderson and she gave me a weak smile. Father Gregory sat with his eyes mostly closed, silent prayers contorting his beard like a clown making balloon animals. Doctor Holiday was writing on his notepad and I leaned in to see several doodles ranging from spaceships to ample breasts. I decided to adopt the Captain Strevko model and stare aimlessly forward. Eventually, a knock rang against the door and Benny Kennedy stepped back to his bailiff post.

“Introducing the witness Victor Earnhardt,” he proclaimed. It was hard not to roll my eyes at the droning formality our captain insisted upon while conducting hearings and tribunals. I would never understand why old men refused to let go.

Earnhardt stood in front of the audience chairs with his arms crossed.

“Please begin at the beginning and be as thorough as possible, yes?” Captain Strevko asked, readying his pen.

“Well,” Earnhardt began (presumably at the beginning). “It started when we were called out to search the area. I took my team and cleared the retail district building by building, Phillip bitched his usual amount and made his lame jokes just like always, but Connor seemed quiet. Connor is never quiet. The longer we were out there, the twitchier he got until it looked like he was almost shaking. I asked him if he was good and he told me he was so I dropped it. Anyway, we’d seen a whole lot of nothing so we moved over into the nearby storage zones just to be on the safe side. We were moving through that warehouse off Aspen, some of you know it, the extra creepy one filled with promotional costumes and advertisements, when we got the call that those flaky bastards had slipped right past us. So I called the boys back and Phillip came trotting up ready to go, but Connor said he had to take a piss first. We waited outside, but after waiting a hell of a long time for a piss, I went back in to look for him.” He turned to look at Connor as he continued.

“I found him on his hands and knees, rooting around in the dust like an animal, looking for the little white pills he’d dropped. I asked him what the hell he was doing and he said he’d found some painkillers and they’d fallen out of his pocket.”

“I did find them!” Connor snapped from behind his chains.

“Really?” Earnhardt scoffed. “You found a bottle of oxy just sitting around in some building that’s been abandoned for twenty years and just decided to take it so you could bring it back here because you’re just such a nice, helpful guy? Huh?”

“I’m a scavenger, that’s what we do. You know that better than I do!”

“While on a hunt and kill op where you wouldn’t even have time to scavenge? Without once alerting your superior like you know damn well you have to when it comes to medical supplies? Do you really expect anyone to believe that, you junky piece of--”

“Mr. Earnhardt,” Strevko barked, slamming his gavel down with a harsh clap. “Please refrain from speaking to the defendant.” Earnhardt nodded and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Do you have anything else to add to your testimony?”

“No, Sir.”

“What became of the pills in question?”

“I dragged Connor away and left them there, Sir. Bringing them home with us did not occur to me. I was more concerned with the security breach and bringing my squad member back to receive judgment.”

“Thank you, Mr. Earnhardt, you are dismissed.”

“Yes, Sir.” He turned on his heel and left.

“Mr. Lindsbuck, do you have anything to say that could refute Mr. Earnhardt’s testimony?”

“No,” Connor conceded. “But how do you even know he’s telling the truth?” We all just stared at him. “Alright… okay… but having a bottle of pills on me doesn’t make me guilty of stealing, or immoral whatever, or any of that shit. Those are some pretty serious accusations for something that should just be a couple of lashes tops.”

“Hoarding medical supplies for personal use is a pretty serious crime, dear,” Mrs. Anderson squeaked from her corner of the table.

“You are not being judged solely on the basis of that single event, Mr. Lindsbuck,” Captain Strevo assured him. “If that were the case, then you are correct, lashes would be in order. The point of this hearing is to determine if the previously described incident is an isolated case, or just the most recent in a long history of abuses.”

“What?” Connor asked, blinking rapidly as he struggled to comprehend his captain’s formal language.

“You weren’t looking for suckers,” I stated quietly. All eyes turned to me. Memories played in fast forward behind my eyes, every time I could remember when his behavior had seemed the least bit unusual. “Everyone knows she ran out of those suckers years ago.”

“What are you talking about, Silas?” Captain Strevko asked. I continued looking at Connor’s face, the way it suddenly twisted like an animal being struck by a car.

“You didn’t care about coming to see me, about making sure that one of your best friends was alright, you just needed an excuse to visit the sick bay.” The rest of the room faded and it was just me and him in a fog. “That’s why you’ve been so cagey lately. That’s why you’ve been carrying that disgusting handkerchief around. That’s why I’ve been so worried that you were getting sick.” Only once before had I felt more betrayed than I did in that moment. Captain Strevko snapped his fingers to get my attention and repeated himself.

“Silas, what instances are you referring to?”

“He’s right,” Doctor Holiday sighed. “Connor has been showing all the signs of opiate withdrawals lately. I take full responsibility for not catching it sooner, it just never occurred to me to think anyone could still get addicted to something that is basically impossible to find.”

“How did you even manage that?” I asked. “How could you, even you, be stupid enough to get hooked on painkillers?”

“Screw you!” Connor snapped before rethinking his course of action and taking a deep breath. “Okay, so here’s what happened. Doctor Holiday gave me a few pills after I broke my ankle, but it was still bothering me so I just kind of… you know… took them as needed.”

“We don’t have the supplies for people to just take whatever they want as needed, especially something as rare and crucial as pain suppressors. Do you not understand how rationing works?” Doctor Holiday asked. “You broke your ankle over a year ago, how many pills have you found and kept to yourself since then? How many have you stolen from my sick bay? Do you have any idea how many patients, how many of our elderly or community members with persistent injuries, have had to needlessly suffer because of this?” Connor smirked and shook his head.

“Then how about they get off their asses and go find their own damn pills?”

“Excuse me?” Captain Strevko asked, eyes narrowing.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Connor continued. “I work my ass off getting food, water, supplies, weapons, ammo, clothes, metal, wood--I’ve done more than my fair share of killing to keep those same old and crippled people safe--so if I want to take a little treat for myself every now and again, what’s so wrong about that?”

“Because it’s not just about you,” Mrs. Anderson chided.

“Because it’s against the rules,” I said. “And the rules are the rules and the rules must be followed. For without rules, we are as the beasts of the field and the foul of the air and all the creeping things upon the earth, breathing bodies without a soul to make them real.” I had entered that courtroom ready to defend my friend to the bitter end, but now there was nothing but a resolute, dragging sadness. I couldn’t help him. Nobody could help him.

He continued arguing with the Council, denying that his actions were the least bit wrong, that his important station granted him increased freedoms. Even he knew he was guilty. Two testimonies from trusted community members (and one from me) against him would be impossible to overcome, and so it appeared that he was changing his tact to aggressive persuasion. If he could only convince the Council that the crimes he had committed shouldn’t be considered crimes at all then maybe he could escape with nothing worse than a scarred back. Unfortunately for him, Captain Strevko had spent almost twenty years fostering an unbreakable sense of community, and it would take much more than one capitalist punk to change anyone’s mind.

Honestly, I didn’t think it was fully Connor’s fault. He’d spent his entire childhood surrounded by the “For the Greater Good”/”One for All and None for One” mentality of the Ascension’s founding members, and while that was enough for men and women who had already lived long, hopefully somewhat fulfilling lives, it presented problems. When you grow up thinking that everyone is of great, equal importance, it makes you feel important, and when you feel important, you begin to feel entitled. Connor was the first ripple in the pond. But change frightens those who cling to past ideals, and I was certain that he would be made into an example of what happens when you toss even a little rock into the stagnant water.

Each word out of his mouth dug the hole a little deeper. Father Gregory was shouting about how gluttony was one of the deadliest sins and Connor was destined for the putrid bowels of Hell. Mrs. Anderson broke down and openly wept for the curious little boy Connor used to be and how she should have seen this coming because of that time he took Andrew’s pencil in grade school. Doctor Holiday again tried to impress upon him the magnitude of his crimes through individual examples. I thought I heard Frank’s name mentioned. The exact words didn’t matter. What was the point of talking anymore? Was it for his benefit, to let him feel like he’d been given every opportunity to repent? Or was it for ours? I looked over at the rest f the council, at the muzzle flares spewing from their mouths as they fired condemnation into Connor’s helpless body at eight hundred rounds per minute.

“Just stop,” I pleaded, rubbing my temples. “We’ve made up our minds, he’s not going to change his mind, so let’s just get this over with.”

“I agree,” Father Gregory said, folding his hands into the sleeves of his robes.

“Then I suppose it is time for proceedings to proceed, yes?” Mrs. Anderson and Doctor Holiday both nodded. “Bailiff?” Benny Kennedy stepped forward and twirled his mustache for dramatic effect.

“The Council has hereby finished its examination of all available evidence and will now pass judgment upon the accused. Are there any final comments or concerns that require addressing?”

“Actually, I have something I believe requires addressing,” Captain Strevko stated to the surprise of everyone. “Connor has been charged with larceny, hoarding, immoral conduct, and detracting from the general well being. I believe that, due to an irrefutable lack of evidence, the charge of larceny should be dropped. Are any opposed to this motion?” Silence… “Very well, please keep this change in mind while voting.”

“Oh thank you so much for not thinking I’m a thief in addition to a hoarder and a demon,” Connor added, wringing out every last drop of spite he could.

“Bailiff, please proceed.”

“The Council will now vote on the accused crimes of Mr. Connor Charles Lindsbuck. Mrs. Delaney Anderson, educator of our youth, how do you vote?”

“I vote guilty on immoral behavior and hoarding but not guilty on detracting from the general well being due to a lack of irrefutable evidence. Sorry, dearest.”

“Father Gregory, guardian of our immortal souls, how do you vote?”

“I vote guilty on all charges and wish the accused a pleasant eternity in Hell.”

“Captain Nikolai Strevko, commander of the Ascension and all those aboard, how do you vote?”

“I reluctantly vote guilty on all charges.”

“Doctor Mathew Holiday, medical expert and chief officer of public health, how do you vote?”

“I vote guilty on all charges.”

“Mr. Silas Connelly, acting chief officer of the scavenging corps, how do you vote?” Once again, all eyes turned to me.

“Silas…” Connor breathed.

“I vote guilty on all charges,” I said, failing to keep my voice from breaking. Connor’s shoulders slumped, his head fell against his chest, and all strength fled from his body as he realized how alone he had become.

“All votes have been counted and the judgment is thus,” Captain Strevko intoned as he lifted his gavel. “Connor Charles Lindsbuck has been found guilty of hoarding by unanimous decision, punishment for which is ten lashes. He has been found guilty of immoral conduct by unanimous decision, punishment for which is death. He has been found guilty of detracting from the general well being by majority decision, punishment for which is death. Who will carry out this sentence?”

“I will,” Doctor Holiday said, rising from his chair. “As chief officer of public health, I should have noticed and prevented this issue sooner.”

“I will,” I said.

“Why, Silas?” Captain Strevko asked softly. “Why would you wish to put yourself through that?”

“Because,” I replied. “Everyone deserves to have a friend with them when they die.”

It was raining. Enormous shadows reached away from the lantern as I forced my shovel deep into the muddy earth and hurled it over my head. Each strike broke the quiet patter of droplets against concrete.

“I’m sure that’s good enough, Silas,” Doctor Holiday said for the second time.

“Not quite yet,” I replied for the second time. “I need to make sure it’s too deep for him to crawl out of.” Connor hadn’t said a word since the end of his trial. He’d cooperated with every order, walked without dragging his feet, and now he leaned against the wall next to Doctor Holiday, watching me dig his grave without expression.

I finally stopped when the pit was so deep that Doctor Holiday had to reach down and help lift me out.

“Silas…” I paused in brushing dirt off my clothes and looked up. “I promise I went to the sick bay to make sure you were okay...” How could I possibly reply to that? How did he want me to reply? I turned my back to him and pulled the shovel out.

“Ready?” Doctor Holiday asked. I nodded. He motioned Connor over and I watched my friend walk up to the very edge of death and gaze down without fear. “Would you prefer to be kneeling or standing?”

“I don’t care,” he said, turning away from his fate. Doctor Holiday shrugged and kicked out the backs of Connor’s knees. He pulled both of his revolvers from their holsters and handed one to me. The gun felt much heavier than I’d thought it would. I took a deep breath and held it at the bottom of my lungs, unable to look away from the impressive kill tally etched into my friend’s scalp, unsure of whether or not to imagine another black dash at the end of the bottom row. I pressed the barrel of my revolver against his right eyelid and pulled the hammer back.

“Hey, Silas?” Doctor Holiday asked. I turned to look at him.

“What...”

“No regrets?”

“No regrets.”

A pair of fingers pulled a pair of triggers and a pair of bullets punched a pair of holes through a pair of eyes. The back of his head popped open and he flopped sideways to the ground. Chunks of bone swirled around his skull like fish in a broken bowl.

“Hey, Silas?” Doctor Holiday asked, looking down at the kid who, even in death, had refused to fall into his grave.

“Hm?” I replied, looking over his shoulder to where a girl in a white dress wept black tears from her black eyes.

“How many grim reapers does it take to unscrew a light bulb?