Chapter 11
Lieutenant Urtis Dusat couldn't sleep. He was restless, and no matter what he did, his mind wouldn't relax—it couldn't. It just kept going back to one instance, replaying that moment over and over again.
If he had just done what Commander Venka asked, none of this would be happening. If he had just followed orders, his conscience wouldn't be rebelling against him this night—as it had done every night since the incident.
He should have just sliced into the system, taken out the files and been done with it. But he didn't. He wanted to know what this was all about. He wanted to know what he was getting himself into. As soon as looked into those security logs, he immediately wished he hadn't. The holocameras clearly depicted Commander Venka deactivating the Captain's life support and watching as the life slowly drained from his body. He murdered him, and now Dusat was complicit in that deed.
Damn my curiosity,he shouted inwardly. Why did I have to look?
After seeing what Venka was so anxious to cover up, Urtis had been so scared he just deleted it all. He hadn't taken the time to think about how to rectify the situation, how to turn Venka in to the proper authorities without garnering the wrath of his superior officer. He had been fearful that if Venka ever found out that he knew the truth of the Captain's demise, he would be next to die at the hands of the ambitious commander.
But now, what was he supposed to do? He had helped dispose of the evidence—the only evidence that would prove the crime. Now he was as guilty as Venka, and that guilt was consuming him from inside out.
Perhaps he could speak with the commander and reason with him, ask him to turn himself in. Urtis knew deep down, he had to be a good man. He was an officer, after all. But what if that didn't work? There wasn't much else he could do. He would be stuck with only one way out.
Tilyer took the time to simply bask in the sunlight beaming down within the agricultural dome Green X; simulated sunlight to be sure, but it still felt damn good. He leaned on the railing separating the rest of the compound from the vast silk fields that constituted the bulk of the space in the agro-dome. As a literal jungle of thick vegetation, it stood in direct contrast to the harsh environment outside the dome's protection. Still, it was nice to be in the out-of-doors for once—sort of—and he was doubly glad to be out of that detestable clinic; however, even though his hospital stay was less than enjoyable, he did manage to learn quite a bit about the facility.
While sitting in his hospital bed for the last day or so, he had been subjected to that annoyingly academic Aqualish jabbering on about whatever topic seemed relevant at the time, mostly having to do with what a great technological marvel the agro-domes on Belsavis were. In addition to providing a living habitat for the residents and crops, it was an environmental recreation of the conditions prior to the planet's accelerated ice age, not exact, but close enough. What Dr. Vorst took especial pride in was the fact that the colonists realized that these so-called "silk trees" held a symbiotic relationship with several species in their environment, all of which depended on one another in a rather large chain. He went into great detail about harvesting methods, one he evidently devised himself, but Tilyer did his best to tune him out in those portions.
And all the time, Oltan stood a few meters away with that perpetual scowl on his face. In fact, he still did. If the shorter man's gaze had been made of blaster bolts, Tilyer would have been dead a hundred times over.
Tilyer glanced over his shoulder to where Oltan stood with his arms folded over his chest. "Are you sure you can't take me to your comm station? Maybe you're not using the right channel or hailing frequency."
"For the last time, no," he said angrily. "We've tried every frequency known to sentient life and it still won't work. Thanks to your little skirmish up there, the whole communication grid is down. Now will you shut up about it?"
Tilyer felt like retorting back that he would shut up about it when the people here stopped treating him like a prisoner, but he thought better of it.
"Hey Oltan," came a voice from several meters distant.
Both men turned to find Tana jogging toward them.
"Oltan," she said, coming to a halt, "Da wants you back at silo 2, says there's some kind of machinery malfunction and needs you to help—it seems kind of urgent."
The blonde man cast a side-long glance at Tilyer, then back at Tana. "You know I can't go. I have to keep an eye on him, and I can't take him with me."
She nodded, "Yeah, but Da said it was urgent."
Oltan thought a moment and then sighed. "Okay, but you're going to have to watch him until I get back." He unholstered his blaster pistol and handed it to her.
She smiled, giving Tilyer an appraising glance, "Sure thing."
"Keep a careful eye on him," Oltan warned.
"Yeah, I know. Don't worry, I've got this covered."
"I don't trust him," he insisted.
"Where's he gonna go, huh?"
Oltan grunted grudgingly. He cast a warning glare in Tilyer's direction then headed off in the direction Tana had come.
When her brother had receded into the distance, she turned toward Tilyer stuffing the blaster into a niche on her belt. "Appreciate the change of company?"
"I suppose," he said dully, seating himself on the path's railing and looking off into the silk fields.
An uncomfortable silence ensued before Tana spoke again. "So, um, Doc Vorst fixed you up good, huh?"
Tilyer nodded, "Yes . . . the Aqualish has proven an adequate physician."
"The Aqualish?" Tana said in the slightly escalated tone that, in Tilyer's experience, usually meant he'd said something wrong.
"Um . . . the annoying Aqualish?"
She sighed in exasperation, her former cheer suddenly dissolving. "Is that all you can say about him? You spent four days in his care, and all you can say is he's an annoying alien?" When Tilyer seemed disinclined to respond, she sighed. "I guess Oltan was right about you Imps."
"Right about what? The fact that I know an alien when I see one, and I make my own opinions about their annoying habits?"
Tana scowled indignantly, her mood suddenly souring. "Right about how you can't see past your own bloated sense of self-importance and how you'll abuse anyone to get what you want. At least the rebels are polite."
This time it was Tilyer's turn to scowl, "What do you know about how rebels act?"
"Nothing," she denied rather unconvincingly.
His frown deepened as he turned to study her reddening face. A look of realization dawned on him. "You're in league with them, aren't you? I should have known all along. You're helping the rebels."
"No, of course not. We don't care about any of that."
"Then why were they hiding on the ice plains on your planet? Did they just magically appear there without you knowing?"
"This is ridiculous. We've been trying to help you."
"By keeping me prisoner? Is that how you're helping me?"
"Prisoner? No, you're free to go at any time."
"Oh really? Then why does that brother of yours follow me around every where? Why am I not allowed to go anywhere but the infirmary and this damned road?"
"We're not in league with anyone! We're didn't do anything wrong."
He stood, taking a step toward her. "You knew and you said nothing, putting our whole ship in danger. Hell, for all I know, I'm the only one left, and the Enforcer is just a hulk floating out in space."
"No," she stammered, "You're wrong."
"Then pray tell how you know how 'polite' the rebels are?"
"I don't, ok? Not first hand anyway. They're just stories that filter in through the core about how the rebellion is trying to fight the injustices of the Empire."
"Injustice!" Tilyer fairly roared. "You want to know injustice?"
Tana took a step back, her hand going to the blaster at her waist.
"How about leaving entire freighter crews to starve to death in deep space after plundering every available resource in their possession for the simple act of transporting goods for the legitimate galactic government? How about torturing and maiming captives in order to squeeze every drop of military intelligence out of their shattered bodies before they die? Or, how about this? This one is my favorite. With two measly torpedoes, snuffing out the lives of three hundred, fifty thousand men and women because they just happened to be on a battle station attempting to enforce law and order throughout our galaxy?"
Tana stood in stunned silence. She kept a firm grip on the blaster, but hadn't drawn the weapon yet
"How is that for injustice? Does that pull your heart strings hard enough for you to give a damn about the thousands of people who have died at the hands of those criminals, those bastards that killed my brother?"
"Then what about Alderaan?" she asked defiantly. "The Empire killed millions of people when they destroyed the planet. What about them? Why doesn't your heart ache for them?"
"Because," Tilyer retorted, launching into what sounded like a rehearsed tirade, "Alderaan was a rebel stronghold. Their elected representative, Bail Organa, had defied Imperial Law, and by allowing them to remain in power on that world, the populace assented its agreement with those actions. They were all guilty of the same treason, and had to be punished."
"And you have no compassion for those millions and millions of people whose lives were suddenly snuffed out with the flip of a switch?"
Tilyer remained resolutely silent.
Tana shook her head sadly. "Most of them probably just wanted to be left out of it all. They didn't care who ruled the galaxy. They just wanted to be able to live out their lives in peace—like we do."
Tilyer couldn't think of anything to respond with.
Tana sighed and turned around, looking off at the collection of pre-fabricated buildings across the way. "Is your universe so black and white that you can't even consider anyone else's view point? Do you think if you just clench your jaw and ignore the truth, everything will settle neatly back into place in your carefully constructed little world?"
Tana thought she could hear him fidgeting restlessly behind her, but still Tilyer said nothing.
"What, lose your tongue when faced with the truth?"
She heaved a sigh and turned around just in time to see Tilyer vault over the railing separating them from the silk fields and disappear into the foliage.
"Get back here!" she shouted in alarm, "You don't know what you're doing!"
Tilyer's only reply was the distant sound of him crashing through the underbrush.
Tana looked around desperately for help, but could see no one. She swore again then drew her blaster and charged after him.
