"I'm sorry, did you just tell me that we have to wait TWO DAYS to download all the records?!"

Captain Hawkes was outraged after Elise broke the bad news, and groaned in frustration, flailing his hands around while cussing under his breath. It was well-known amongst the crew that, while Hawkes was calm under fire, he had a quick-tempered response to bad news quite often, outside of life-threatening situations.

"I'm sorry, Captain, but you know I already told you that we needed to put in the request to CentCom for updated operating systems and hardware."

In-person, Elise's vague French accent could be heard more concisely. Even hundreds of years later, there were still communities and families that retained accents and lingo which survived over the centuries. As fascinating as the phenomena was, Hawkes instead used it as an outlet for his anger to parody her quite mockingly.

"Oui oui, I 'ave alhready tuld yuu dat we need ze croissants- OW!"

Highly offended, Elise delivered a sharp kick to his shin, causing him to crumble to the ground, gripping it in minor agony. He sucked in through his teeth to cope with the pain, and it was quite an amusing sight to Elise.

"As I said, you had the chance to update our OS when you sent in that request. I put the damn letter right on your desk the day you were planning to submit it."

Hawkes sighed as he staggered back up onto his feet.

"It's not that simple, Baguette Queen- OWWW, FUCK!"

Another sharp kick, this time to the other shin. Hawkes was rendered utterly incapacitated and groaned on the floor in regret.

"How is it not simple?!" Elise decried him. "Seems quite simple to me!'Dear CuntCom, please update our Operating Systems so we don't get our shit hacked by enemy drones and have all our airlocks opened remotely.'See? Only one sentence."

Hawkes got up again and dusted himself off, huffing tiredly.

"It's not simple because I can't ask for every possible upgrade that they can offer. All of Canaris' dockyards are too busy building military carriers for an excursion into the Kalis Sector, and it takestimeandrare resourcesto rearm and upgrade this vessel. The only reason I got that request approved was because a dockyard happened to free up space after finishing an Artemis-class battle cruiser."

"We don't need a dockyard to update the goddamn OS!"

Hawkes' demeanor switched up for a moment, and his eyes intensified with an unsettling energy.

"Elise. You know better than to say that word."

Elise was about to rebuttal, but reality set in quickly. She quieted down.

"...Sorry. It's only been 2 months. I'm not used to it yet."

"I wouldn't be chastising you if the consequences weren't so real."

Elise nodded, gulping nervously. Hawkes took the cigar box out of his coat pocket, opened it up, and handed one to Elise. She took it gingerly, along with his offered lighter. He clapped the box back shut, stuffed it in his pocket, and began to exit the Drone Control center.

"Don't you need your-"

"Lighter? I got another, don't worry 'bout it."

The door shut behind him, and Elise grinned, lighting the cigar up.

"Such an asshole, heh."

She coughed profusely from the inhalation of the cigar; it'd been a while since she'd smoked one of these.

"Fuck me, this is powerful."


Hawkes made his way through the spacious corridors of the Argonaut II, greeting jubilant subordinates as he passed them by. After consoling one of the younger EVA team members who was terrified of the event they just went through, he flipped his radio to Medical.

"Faulkner, how's that bastard looking?"

"Curly is nearly recovered. We had to amputate his limbs and recycle them through the cloning conduit to produce fresh limbs, but we managed to get them affixed back on. The burnt flesh was a hassle, it was seared down to the bone. I feel terrible for this poor fellow, that must have been agonizing. Luckily, we managed to graft the flesh off and had the microbots layer on the muscle, sinew and skin. His right eye was incinerated, so we replaced it with a carbon copy. He had no hands nor feet, but we pulled up his government records and cloned some hands and feet that were estimated based off those files. The internal organs, vocal chords, hair follicles, and skull are still undergoing reformation, but this fellow is stable for now, and we should have him fixed up within four hours or so."

"Sounds good, Faulkner. Keep me updated."

"Of course. I'll be getting back to it."

Hawkes turned off his radio receiver and stood for a moment, tapping his heel in thought. He couldn't watch the recordings anytime soon, and Curly was still undergoing surgery so he couldn't be interrogated yet.

There were the bodies...

He turned his radio back on and changed the channel to Divinity.

"Jazz, you there?"

"Da."

"Jazz, stop speaking a dead language."

"Shut up. What do you want?"

"Are preparations for the Revivification ready?"

"Five hours. The disciples still have to perform the Rite of Solace, the Holy Eucharist, the Incense Ceremony, and-"

"Okay, okay, I got it. Damn it."

"Did you just curse over the phone into a holy place?"

"What are you talking about? Cursing over the phone doesn't count! I'm not even in the room!"

"Your curse echoed all throughout the Divine Chamber. Every disciple heard you, they are very disappointed in their Captain right now."

"Uh huh. Alright, well, we're going to be bringing Curly in to observe, so work around that however you need to."

"Da."

"I don't know what that means."

"Sounds like a 'you' problem."

Hawkes shook his head as he turned off his radio once more. He thought of anything else that might need doing, but soon realized he had some free time at the moment. For a mere minute, he thought deeply about what people who died horrible deaths might want first if they were revived.

If it were him, plenty of alcohol and a king's feast would be great. Maybe a nice view of outer space to pair with it.

On the radio turns, again. Hawkes was beginning to wonder if he had a compulsion disorder. He turned the station to Engineering.

"Ali, this is Hawkes."

"Hawkes! What's up homie! The crew's celebrating in the terrarium! Come on down from the bridge, man!"

"I'm not at the bridge. Did the crew celebrating get on switch-shift?"

"Of course, I'm a party animal, not an idiot, Hawkes."

"I fail to discern the difference."

"Man, get down here and take a shot before I come up there and kick your ass!"

"Uh huh. Are they on switch-shift or not?"

"Such a party pooper. Yeah, I made sure they switch out with the reserve garrison every hour."

"Ali, if they're drunk and operating the ship, we're gonna get Tulpar'ed. Take them off switch-shift and let the reserve garrison run the ship for the night."

"You're such an asshole."

"Oh, one last thing."

"Yeah, Cap?"

"Delay those celebrations for a bit longer. I want the Resurrected to be included. Sober up and prepare a big feast, mixed drinks, and liquor. Lots of liquor."

"..."

"Ali? You there?"

"I take back what I said."

"What?"

"About you being an asshole."

"Cool story, didn't ask."

"I un-take it back."

Off the radio went. Hawkes continued to think of what else the crew might want once they came back. Judging from the gruesome murder scene he'd witnessed, it would likely be much better to initially separate them so they could adjust to the environment without any potential mental triggers.

What else... what else...Hawkes thought in deep contemplation.

"Hey, Hawkes!"

"Shut up Oliver, I'm thinking, for fuck's sake!"

"...Damn, okay... at least you remembered my name!"

An idea suddenly sprung into Hawkes' head.

"Remember..." He muttered. "Oh, that's it! I'll get in contact with their families. They need to know now. It would be criminal to delay the news."

He was about to sprint for the Comms Center, but stopped in his tracks early. Was this premature? The Ritual hadn't even been performed yet. If he went to the families and told them of their recovery, but one of them didn't resurrect, it would break their hearts a second time over.

No. Better to stay the news and wait to see what resulted from the Ritual.

There was nothing else Hawkes could think to do for those who'd be coming back. He decided to head to the bridge, and review the files on each of the crew members. This way, he could get a better read on who might be the culprit behind the Tulpar's crash.


"Captain. The patient is fully reformed. He is still unconscious but the anesthetics will wear off in a few minutes. We've seated him in the Interrogation chamber, cuffed to the table."

"Copy. I'm heading there now."

Hawkes threw the files he was reading to the ground and practically bolted for the transport tube. His curiosity about the Tulpar's demise had been eating away at him for the last few hours, and he was ready to rough this bastard up to get the confession. How dare this piece of shit sacrifice his crew for whatever selfish motives he had!

This was Captain Hawkes' first ever Resurrection Ritual onboard the Argonaut II. He'd had the Divinity Chamber installed only days after the Era of Divinity began, and he waseuphoric.

He, and every other human to exist, had been given a purpose on that day. The power to resurrect those who were unjustly wronged, and those who were guilty of the crimes, was nothing other than a message from God, and the Divine that looked over Heaven and Earth. If you had told Hawkes he would be a devout believer in God three months ago, he would have spit in your face and left laughing contemptibly.

But there was no clearer message than this. The ability to bring back the dead. It changed human society forever. And Hawkes had been at the very inception of this Holy Renewal. There wasn't a single word on Earth that could possibly describe how utterly enlightening it was to know- to know...that God existed, and had given humanity the opportunity to build a true utopia.

Hawkes had spent his entire life killing people. Now he was going to spend it saving lives.

AND HE WOULD PUNISH SINNERS FOR THEIR DISGUSTING GREED OF SELF!

He cranked the radio on with a pressing rage pulsating through him.

Bastard. Scum. Wretch. Traitor. Mutineer.

I'm going to make him suffer for those he hurt the most.

He switched the channel to Garrison.

"Caz."

"Captain."

"Get 2 soldiers, yourself and 2nd Lieutenant Ramirez to Interrogation."

"Roger."

Radio off. Hawkes tapped his foot impatiently, growing angrier at the slow pace of the transport tube.

"Come on. Come on. COME ON!"

Ding.

Hawkes stormed out of the tube and marched towards the Interrogation Chamber, flanked on the left by two garrison officers, and Caz and Ramirez on his right. Hawkes came up to the door and swiped his keycard.

Psssssssssssssssh.

The door slid open, revealing a fully-reformed Curly, slumped in the chair with his hands cuffed to the edge of the table. Hawkes thought first about slamming the table to wake him up, but quickly realized that startling awake someone who'd been through absolute hell was probably not the wisest idea. Even if he utterly loathed him, he needed information first and foremost.

Instead, Hawkes quietly scooted the opposing seat out, sat down, and scooched in quietly. He gently laid his arms across the table, twiddling his thumbs and waiting for Curly to wake.

...

...

...

"Caz, uncuff him."

Caz titled his head in confusion as Hawkes gave him the order.

"Sorry, Captain?"

"Uncuff him. The last thing he remembers is being a burnt, amputated husk for eight months. I'd rather he not damage himself again with the cuffs once he comes to. We need him coherent and well-adjusted to gather information."

"And if he attacks us?"

Hawkes turned to face Caz for a moment, saying nothing. He merely stared at him for a moment, his eyes conveying a very clear message:

Do as ordered.

Caz nodded, moving to uncuff the blonde man. As mercurial as the Captain was, everyone onboard followed his orders. He didn't make it for three decades as a decorated war hero because of insubordination. Everyone knew it, no one needed to speak it.

Caz gently removed the cuffs from the man's hands and clipped them onto his utility belt, standing back in formation.

And then they waited.

...

...

...

"Urgh..."

Hawkes noticed Curly begin to stir awake, barely cogent. His eyelids fluttered excessively, as if trying to function for the first time in a long time. Slowly, groggily, Curly raised his head and stared around the room with hazy irises. He seemed as if he were drugged, even though the anesthetics had already worn off.

"Hgh... Wh... Hhh..."

"Curly." Hawkes spoke with arms crossed. "Curly, you hearing me?"

Curly still seemed out of it. His eyes were entirely unfocused, as if he was in shell-shock. Hawkes took a moment to deliberate, then leaned across the table and slapped Curly across the face, much to the shock of the Garrison behind him.

"Captain?!"

"Quiet."

Curly jolted backwards, his eyes clearing up and an audible yelp emitting from his throat. It was then that his eyes scanned the room once more, and widened in further alarm. He began to shake violently, and looked to his hands first.

"What... what... wh... What...?"

His shaking continued, and his eyes darted in every direction imaginable.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

He suddenly collapsed to the ground, screaming and clawing at his skin in pure agony. The officers moved to restrain him, with Ramirez looking fearfully at Hawkes, whose face carried a loathsome grimace.

"Captain, what's happening?!"

"Phantom pains. The brain needs time to comprehend changes, and going from a charred husk to a fully-reformed body is something the brain doesn't yet understand. So it's projecting what it last remembered onto his mind."

"GHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

Ramirez was utterly disturbed and placed on the verge of tears from seeing this man writhe in such pain; the guttural screams from his newly-made throat only magnified the impossible depths of agony he could convey. No human being could withstand this kind of projected agony unfazed.

Within minutes, the screaming died down to a loud sobbing, and minutes after that it died down to a heaving whimpering. The ordeal was so horrifying to watch that everyone in the room except Hawkes had to stand outside until he'd stopped.

Hawkes kneeled next to the shivering Curly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Based on his personal observations, Hawkes had plenty of reason to believe Curly to be the culprit. However, matching that up with Curly's government records, there were some glaring issues.

Curly was, by all accounts, an exceptional captain. He had spotless decades-long employment with Pony Express, had nothing except positive recommendations and reviews from employees, employers, acquaintances and business partners. His mental evaluations were green flags across the board.

So where was the motive? Why would he crash a ship, doom his crew, and ruin his retirement prospects and life? Something wasn't adding up.

"Hhhh... Hhhh..."

"Let's get you up, Curly." Hawkes said, hoisting Curly by the armpits and back onto the chair. Curly sat, eyes puffy and swollen from incessant crying, drooling from his mouth, and completely spaced out. Hawkes sat across from him, interlacing his fingers and thinking of what to say next.

...

...

...

"Am I dead?"

Hawkes didn't expect the question, but answered gracefully.

"No. You were reformed."

"...Wha?"

"Reformed. You backwater- ahem. Reformation is a process that Canaris invented. It involves the aggregate repair, cloning, and transplanting of your body back to what we could last find on your government records. We essentially used a full-body picture from your archives to reconstruct you. Since the Terror, we haven't been able to export this procedure to other systems, but we are the original creators, so we are naturally the masters at it. That's probably why you've never heard of it. Our system, in particular, is cut off in terms of trade with the other nations except for communications, because we are the furthest system from Terra. And.. to be frank, we're not going to share information about our technology until we get the patent. And we can't get the patent because all the fucking bureaucrats were on Terra, so-... anyways, that's the explanation for your body. I know it's probably morbid to experience, but the good news is it's free of cost for you!"

Curly's eyes glanced over his body, raising shaky hands to stare at them. He seemed transfixed on himself, as if admiring a long-lost physical yearning.

"...Is this real?"

"Yeah, real as shit and sex."

Curly chuckled loudly at the old phrase popularized by freighter captains. He seemed shocked to hear himself laugh- and did it again. And again. And again. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed until he couldn't and coughed. With each passing moment, Hawkes felt a sense of guilt and sorrow intensify. He was beginning to doubt Curly was the one responsible for this catastrophe.

"Curly-"

"Do you mind if I sing?"

"...Heh?"

"There was a song... I'd heard when I was little. It stuck with me. My whole life."

And suddenly, Curly began to sing the lyrics from a song Hawkes wasn't aware of.

"That's life! That's what all the people say! You're riding high in April, shot down in May! But I know Iiiiii'm gonna chaaaaange that tuuuune! When I'm back on top, back on top in June! I said That's Life!"

Hawkes sighed and sat back in his chair, listening to Curly sing his heart out. He couldn't imagine what it was like to regain your body after so long, but he could certainly expect this to be a natural response- gratitude to the universe.

And so, he sat back, and listened to him for minutes on end, letting the man belt out every verse he could think of. No matter what he thought of Curly,

He wasn't one to ruin a person's celebration of life.


Curly had finally finished enjoying his renewed body, and sat down to stare intensely at Hawkes.

"Are... you done?" Hawkes asked tentatively.

"I still don't believe this is real. I'm terrified I'm going to wake up from this dream, back on that medical bed. I don't want that. I really don't want that. Please."

Hawkes sighed again as he raised his hands to assuage Curly.

"Well, I know what grounds me when I'm feeling down." Hawkes said with a slick smile, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out another cigar-

"Shit." He muttered, realizing this was his second to last cigar. He only had three cigar boxes left in his quarters. That would mean he'd need to limit his cigar use to... once a day...

Hawkes withheld the urge to cry. Everyone was making sacrifices, here. Especially him.

"Do you... want... a... cigar...?" Hawkes said quite reluctantly through grit teeth, offering it to Curly.

Curly stared at the cigar for a long moment, before eventually taking it into his hands, rolling it around in his fingers.

"I can't even remember the taste." He mumbled. Tears streamed down his face, and he began to sob silently. "What is happening? How am I alive? How? Why? Why...? I don't deserve this... I don't deserve it... I don't..."

His sobbing turned to wailing, and by this point Hawkes could tell he was grieving. He stayed silent, but it was somewhat awkward to try and comfort someone who 1. he suspected was the culprit, and 2. was going to find out soon that his crewmates would likely return. Now that hindsight was 20/20, Hawkes realized that breaking this news was going to cause a lot more trauma.

Oh, well!

"Alright, alright, you got your tears out?" Hawkes said rather brutishly. "Now, Curly, we did a courtesy for you by using resources to bring you back. It's a costly and rigorous procedure, and we need the favor returned- Oh, for f-"

Hawkes stopped speaking as Curly got up from his chair, shuffled over to him, and kneeled on the floor, bowing his head to the ground as he sobbed.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. You freed me from hell. You freed me. You saved me. You saved me from that suffering. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't... I just wanted to die. Thank you. I can't find the words to thank you."

"Now now, let's save the thanks for after interrogation. Let's just skip to the chase, Curly. Who crashed the Tulpar?"


(Music: "i sacrifice", by Ayparia)


Curly's shaking came to a sudden stop, and Hawkes felt his danger instincts go off. He quickly backed out of his chair and unholstered his handgun, readying himself. Curly raised his head from the ground, and-

Woah.

In Curly's eyes was the bloodcurdling visage of a tortured man given life anew; his memories cursed him with a bottomless rage that scoured his body like electricity. His breath quickened, his arms bulging with veins, throat clogged with unrequited fury, ears ringing with savage vengeance, fingers digging blood out of his palms.

A vengeful spirit manifested.

"W-H-E-R-E I-S H-EEEEEEEEEEEEEE?!"

Curly roared the demand throughout the Interrogation Room, and immediately the other officers stormed in to restrain him. In a shocking display of adrenaline, Curly managed to shove an officer clean across the table, threw another against the back wall, and tackled Ramirez through the doorway out into the hall before he was tased and handcuffed by Caz. The other officers groaned as they got up from the floor, and were promptly scolded by Caz, who'd placed a dazed Curly in Ramirez's custody.

Hawkes, during the whole ordeal, was utterly frustrated. He only had 30 minutes left before the Revivification started, and he needed Curly coherent, sane and cooperative enough to answer his questions. If he suspected Curly could be taken off the culprit list, he would bring him to the Chamber to see his crewmates brought back. Hawkes wanted to reduce the mental burden of guilt from as many innocent people as possible.

"Curly..." Hawkes leaned down to place his hand gently on Curly's shoulder, even as he thrashed around in relentless apoplexy. "Curly, who crashed the ship? Was it you?"

"J-I-M-M-Y! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! YOU WORTHLESS FUCKING SCUM, INHUMAN PSYCHOPATH! I WILL TEAR YOUR FUCKING GUTS OUT OF YOUR STOMACH AND EAT IT! JIMMMYYYYY!"

"Welp, that answered my question." Hawkes concluded. "Caz, hit him with the Kyloxoprofil."

"Captain, it's called Isodihidroxine."

"Iso-kylo-tomato-potato, can you fucking DOSE HIM PLEASE?"

Caz injected the anesthetic into Curly's neck, and his rantings quickly died down into unconsciousness. Hawkes rubbed his neck, cracking it a few times, then cracked his knuckles against his palms. Now everything was coming together.

Hawkes' current hypothesis, missing information: Jimmy crashed the ship. His mental evaluations based on government records were subpar and sparse. The motive is unknown. Considering that Curly had recommended Jimmy for the freighter, it was likely they were long-time friends. This would explain why Jimmy had access to the cockpit- Curly had mistakenly trusted him with the duty for some reason, and Jimmy ultimately overrode the autopilot and tanked the ship.

The only major question that remained was why? Was Jimmy so mentally unwell that he wanted to die? Or was he covering something up? Who shot Swansea, and why so late into the time of being stranded? What caused Anya to overdose, after months of desperate survival? Did Daisuke get axed as a mercy-kill, or to make sure he didn't speak about something he saw?

Questions, questions, questions. The only thing Hawkes could be sure of was who to attempt to resurrect first.

"The Revivification Ritual is ready, Captain."

Hawkes sneered, radioing in.

"Start with Swansea."