The coffee isn't any better in the Captain's Lounge. The lighting is, though. At least, the one shining in my face is.

 

"Tell us everything," says Captain Angel.

She’s sitting beside her second-in-command, and all-around brown-noser, Assistant-to-the-Captain Mitchell Houser. I imagine him as having been part of a lab experiment gone awry when a drop of radioactive waste fell onto a rat and transformed the creature into a human. Poetic, I know.

 

"And don't skip any details, Warren," instructs the rat.

 

"I'll try my best," I say. Sludge from my coffee cup makes its way down my throat as I try to recount the last twenty-four hours. "You really want all the details? I'll need another cup, then."

 

Houser lets out the kind of sigh you usually hear after someone finds out they’ve been laid off.

 

"It started yesterday morning. Kingston and I were assigned to hull repair together. We don't like each other, and we don't hide that either, but for whatever reason, Houser over here kept placing us together. The prick stole my girlfriend. It's hard to escape that kind of betrayal on a ship this size. So, Kingston and I shared a silent breakfast, and since you want all the details, I had toast and two eggs while he had baked beans and hashbrowns. Both of us had coffee, no cream. One of the few things we agreed on, coffee is best served black."

 

"You're stalling," says Houser.

 

"Let him finish," says Captain Angel. "You're the one who wanted all the details."

 

"Yes, ma'am. Apologies."

 

"As I was saying..." I sip some sludge. "After breakfast, we suited up. I wear the 9WAT suit, while Kingston prefers the 10WAT. As you're both aware, the 9 is lighter and more maneuverable than the 10, but that comes at the cost of reduced strength enhancement. Kingston liked to feel strong, I guess. He had an arrogance about him that he couldn't back up unless he wore a 10."

 

"I'm sensing some hostility," says Houser.

 

"Let him continue," says the captain. "It's all being recorded. Let him hand himself over if he wants to."

 

"I'm not handing anything over," I say. "Stating the facts is all. Isn't that why we're here? Where was I? That's right, after we suited up, we checked each other for any breaches. We were both good to go. Someone opened the hatch; I can't remember who—"

 

"Reed," says Houser, an annoying glee in his voice. Look at me, Captain. I know the answers to everything. "It says here on the sheet that Reed was on hatch duty."

 

"That's irrelevant," says the captain. "Stop interrupting."

 

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

 

Serves him right.

 

"The breach in the hull wasn't far from the hatch. It was indeed a two-man job. I clipped in and so did Kingston. Same as we always do. We went the, I don't know, maybe eight meters down the length of the hull. Kingston had the patch, and I had the torch. He held, and I weld, as it goes. Helded and welded doesn’t have the same ring to it. Maybe thirty minutes into our efforts is when the debris came."

 

"Debris that didn't show up on the scanners, mind you," says Houser.

 

"Weren't you told to keep quiet?"

 

"Stop it," says the captain. "The both of you need to stay on track."

 

I shook my empty cup. "I'm feeling parched."

 

"Water?" asks Houser through his teeth.

 

"Coffee, please."

 

"Coffee won't help with feeling parched," replies the rat.

 

"Get him his coffee, please," says the captain. "We're nearly done here."

 

With a fresh cup in hand, I feel confident in carrying on with my story. "It wasn't a single piece, but many. Fragments, really. Maybe even too small to appear on the scanners. The first hit Kingston's helmet. I saw a crack. I told him and he, of course, told me to... well, it wasn't kind. I'll leave it at that. He said it hadn't breached his helmet and to carry on. We were nearly done, after all. Another five minutes go by, and he's hit again, only this time he lets go of the panel and flies away from the ship, held on by his clip."

 

I stop for a moment to take a sip. It’s not getting any better, but the caffeine numbs my head just enough to rinse any worries away. Giving in to your addictions will do that.

 

"And then you unclipped him," says Houser, or rather accuses.

 

"Hold your tongue," says the captain. "We're here to get Warren's statement, not to pass judgment."

 

"No," I say. "I didn't unclip him. I reached out for him, but he was well enough on his own. He began pulling himself in. That's when the next wave of debris came. This time toward me as well, but I held strong to my cord at the clip. He was struck again, and I don't know exactly what happened from there. Perhaps he hadn't secured himself as per protocol, maybe his bulky suit made it hard for him to secure it properly. The next thing I knew, he was floating away, his helmet cracked. He was out of my reach before I even knew what was happening."

 

"And then what?" asks Houser.

 

"And then I finished the job," I say. "I'm here, and he's not. But without him, we might not be here. That breach in the hull could've gotten worse had we not gone out there. He's a hero."

 

"You're a liar," says Houser.

 

"That's enough out of you," says the captain.

 

"You're going to sit there and let him lie to us? How many times have he and Kingston gone out there together? A dozen? More? Kingston always wears the 10WAT. What makes this time any different?"

 

"We have to follow procedures," says the captain. "We have his statement. Now it's time for his peers to decide his fate."

 

I take a sip of my coffee. Bitter.