Chapter Seven: The Confessor’s Spirit

"My name is Captain James Rickard. I’m going to ask you a few questions. I suggest you answer them honestly and quickly, or things will get progressively worse for you—understand?" he says in an unyielding voice.

The dull ache of my head pulsates through my neck as Captain Rickard lifts the revolver closer to my head. "I understand."

"Very good. First question: why are you on my ship?" His last words felt coated with acid, causing my stomach to churn.

"I—I needed to leave Titan." I struggle with the images of Jurin's lifeless face playing back in my head.

Captain Rickard looks at me coldly. "I asked you to tell me why you are on my ship, not what compelled you to stowaway in the first place," he says irritably.

I study Rickard’s features attempting to discern his intentions. He’s in his late-forties or early fifties, judging by the prominent streaks of gray flowing through his jet black hair and stubble. His skin is dark and weathered, with faint scars across his arms and face. I can tell he has seen some combat and is probably a veteran from the war. Otherwise, his light brown eyes reveal nothing other than cold confidence and reserved strength of will.

I thought for a while about his question, why did I choose this particular skip and not any of the others? I honestly don't know, but that won’t be accepted as an answer. "I’m pretty much a nobody—less than that really; Titan took my family away from me, but when I saw your skip, something inside told me that everything will be alright, that I had to get on that skip."

Captain Rickard looks at me, but this time there is more than just contempt in his eyes. There’s also sorrow. "What’s your name, boy?" he asks while sitting in a chair across from me.

"I was only three when the orphanage took me in. I didn't have a name, so everyone started to call me John. Over the years, it stuck."

The captain looked me up and down. "Last question. What should I do with a stowaway like you?"

Nev steps forward with a large smile on his face. "I say we throw him into the airlock and send him packing. He is a liability."

Rickard looks at me with his eyebrows raised. "And what do you think about Nev's idea?"

"With all due respect, I’d prefer something that doesn’t mean I die," I say in a desperate tone.

"Listen, kid, you sold your case when you told me no one will be looking for you. So what am I to do? Just allow a stowaway to wander around my ship?" Rickard gets up and walks to the system chart, turning his back to me.

"I can help around here—I learn really fast. I’ll work off the debt I owe you!" I frantically plead.

Rickard turns and glares at me. "I only have a crew that I can trust. You have already betrayed every principle I hold. What makes you trustworthy, huh?"

I search my mind for anything that could possibly change his plan, but nothing comes. Have I come this far just to be killed? So much for doing Jurin and the others’ sacrifices justice. Now I'll be just another forgotten soul, one of the billions, even trillions, that have been forgotten almost as if they never existed in the first place.

Rickard sighs and motions for Nev to take me away. Nev steps up, a look of sheer glee on his face. The twins’ faces don't hide a single shred of disdain for their captain's wishes. I try my best to accept my fate, but my spirit rebels against the notion of just accepting death again. "No!" I shout in the most powerful voice I can gather; Rickard looks up from his monitor and walks over to me, getting uncomfortably close to my face.

"What did you just say?" he asks in a voice so cold it could turn water to ice.

"I said no—" still maintaining my powerful tone.

"Bold words for someone tied to a chair; powerless to change his own fate," he retorts.

"Bolder than sentencing an unarmed, innocent kid to death by explosive decompression? Excuse me when I say go to hell. With all due respect—sir."

Nev pulls his pistol out but is stopped short by Rickard, who instead places his revolver against my temple. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you."

Now is my chance. "I can give you a few. First, because you see something in me, something that reminds you of yourself. You may deny it all you want, but I can see it in your eyes. I remind you of your past, something you try very hard to cover up. Second, because you and your lackey are not murderers. I’ve seen murderers. You've killed before, but not because it brings you pleasure but because you are survivors like me. Then there is the last reason, and the most important one of all; the mere fact that you haven't pulled that trigger already because you don't believe it was simply coincidence that I got aboard your ship—"

Silence fills the room as if time has stopped altogether. Rickard doesn't move; his eyes are still locked on to mine, trying to read my thoughts. I definitely hit a nerve because I can see an avalanche of emotions hiding just past his hardened and practiced eyes. The question is will this change his mind or just piss him off even more? Then I hear the sound of the revolver's hammer being pulled back with an incredibly loud click. My heart stops as Rickard closes his eyes. This is it. This is the end—