"Were you on any of those cruisers? Did ya know they were going to do what they did? Did you, or did you not ditched your crew, filled your ship with refugees, and surrendered yourself the moment you saw what they did? You were a soldier, who still had his morals at the time it was most important. For that you don't deserve punishment, but a chance to do things differently."
Pria stood up, and unlocked his binds, getting him more or less free. She went to the side, and returned with a jug of water, and 2 glasses, pouring some to both of them.
"Yes, many of those upper class fancypanties are asshats. There are some who see the problem too, but none understands the climbing like you 'n me. I know you wanted the best for your people, and if you think that needs to be judged, then you've inhaled too much reactor coolant"
She sipped some water before continuing
"There will be many places in here that need your kind of people, so don't give up, you're just as able to make a change as everyone else. Would you give up to the opportunity to help others, who had the similar experiences as you did on Leeds?"
Rupert took the offered glass of water and gathered his thoughts.
"You're right. I wasn't on the cruisers, and I did make an effort to do right at the end. I always behaved honourably, and within the accepted rules of war, with the intention to make things better for my home planet. There was something my father used to say, though, before he passed from the same respiratory illness that eventually kills everyone on Leeds. The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
Rupert took a drink before continuing.
"I didn't participate directly in the genocide being committed against my people, but that doesn't mean I'm not responsible in my own way. I helped put a Bretonian face on the occupation. I gave it legitimacy, and made it seem normal or even desirable. Do you remember that open letter I sent out just over a year ago? Do you think that I had the resources to reach every neural net terminal in Bretonia on my own? I was barely out of officer's training at the time when someone from the Navy's propaganda office asked me if I'd be willing to reach out to my fellow Bretonians. The letter was entirely my own words, and they spread it as far and wide as they could. After that, local Gallic-controlled news outlets made me a regular feature of their broadcasts. The Leeds native fighting on his people's behalf in the Marine Royale, a symbol of Leeds' place in the King's dominion, not as conquered enemy territory, but as a liberated world equal to any other in Gallia."
Rupert took another drink.
"Of course, that was bollocks, even if I was too much of an idiot to see it. It was starting to have an effect, though, particularly amongst children and teenagers too young to really remember life under Bretonian rule. One boy, from my own home city of Beeston, sent me a letter once, telling me he couldn't wait to join the Marine Royale and be just like me. That boy is probably dead now, along with everyone else in Beeston."
Rupert's eyes began to tear up.
"Even some of those old enough to know better allowed themselves to start believing it. They were tired of war, tired of death, and ready to believe things could at least return to normal. Had I not allowed myself to be used in that manner, hell, had I been smart enough to join the resistance instead of fighting for the enemy, some of those people might have sought their peace off world, as so many others did. How many died because I convinced them that there was a future for Leeds under Gallic rule? Maybe just a few, maybe thousands, or maybe just that one child. However many it is, though, their blood is on my hands."
Rupert put down his cup and wiped the tears from his eyes. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"I understand what you're trying to do, and I do appreciate it. I don't hear very many kind words these days. Still, can you honestly say I'm truly an innocent in all this? Whatever second chance you're offering, whatever you're trying to recruit me for, forget it. Save it for someone who deserves it."
Rupert waved to the camera to summon the guard, certain that he didn't actually shut them off. He needed to end this meeting. He knew that if he stayed here and listened long enough, he'd allow himself to be convinced, and avoid the justice he came here to face.
Military Corrective Training Centre (aka The Glasshouse)
BAF Aldershot, New London
10 January 827 A.S.
Half a year had passed since his surrender, and Rupert was convinced that everyone had forgotten about him. He had been claimed by the SIS under the order of Director Mountbatten, but since then, she had left the Service and took up a seat in the House of Lords. Nobody else in the SIS seemed interested in him, nor was the BAF in any hurry to do anything with him either. Since Captain Y'berg came to visit, his only other visitor had been an officer from the BAF's Technology & Grants department. Apparently they needed some of the finer points of the Acheron's systems explained to them. Other than that, he had been left to languish in his cell. Even the occasional beatings had stopped. Rupert still didn't know what awaited him, but he knew it was only a matter of time before someone in authority remembered he existed.
19th January 743 A.G.S
Battleship Vénissieux, Burgundy System. Gallic Space.
Six months later after Davies' surrender, le Commandant Pierre Vaillant had still in memory the events of the 19th August 742 A.G.S. Vaillant was watching powerless the destruction of Leeds from his Valor. Such inhuman order, he couldn't follow it. He was waiting the final act of the war, hoping he could still survive this madness. This same 19th August, Pierre lost his only Bretonian's friend, Rupert Davies. Vaillant always considered Bretonians as inferior humans compared to the Gallics, yet his statement changed during the last months of the war.
But Davies always has been a special case for Vaillant. A Bretonian fighting under the Gallic colors? This always intrigued Vaillant and the two men started to get closer by the time. It is very likely Davies was considered as a friend by Vaillant. When Davies decided to surrender to the Bretonian authorities, Vaillant was there. He perfectly knew why his friend wanted to such desperate action. Surprisingly, Vaillant didn't try to stop him. Instead, he let him go. He knew it was certainly pointless as whatever Vaillant would decide, Davies would face his fate in both cases.
Nevertheless, six months later, Pierre was wondering if Davies was still alive. Maybe the Bretonians had executed him for treason? Vaillant took the opportunity of the Leviathan Accords to ask the prisoners transfer between Bretonia and Gallia. He contacted the Bretonian Armed forces admirality. On Vaillant's list figuered the name of Davies. Finally, the Bretonians accepted to give Davies back to the Gallic Navy. The 19th January, the shuttle transporting Davies arrived in Burgundy and was ready to dock on the battleship Vénissieux where Vaillant was waiting.
