The Sabre was calmed. Cockpit windows were broken, several holes can be seen from every part of the inert vessel. Blue and purple mixed together, coming from the strange capsule held by the dead pilot with his both hands; as if he, even in death, was trying to safely protect it.
Cruz, suffocated and barely hearing his wingmen, hit the button:
“Patching in through.”
“To anyone receiving this…do not come for me.
I do not deserve to be redeemed, at all.
I killed my wife, I killed my daughters. My lineage is over. There will be no more Riquelme, at least from my part. I stripped from me everything and everyone that I cared. My friends tried to warm me, console me for my act. “IT WAS NECESSARY.” They said. “YOU SAVED THE REST, YOU CARED ABOUT US, AS ANY OUTCAST SHOULD.” They shouted at me. What a joke.
Decades passed, the pain never ceased, as expected. I did what I do best. Pirating. Fighting. Murdering. Try to conceal with myself. Nothing. Time does not forget and I had a long time among the living. Then I killed again, Outcasts this time. My friends. I couldn’t endure any more of their “empathic” words. My Don was angry and he sent me to what it was supposed to be the maximum punishment. What a fool.
I was thrown into this shitty organization. What a bunch of lunatics. All of them, especially the leader. They sent me to Antártida, a lovely facility. It was supposed to break me. “Even more? Sure, they can try” I thought. I laughed at the tests. Some of my companions died in the process. So weak, they did not deserve to live after all. What a waste.
I did find entertainment in all of this. I cannot deny it. They even gave me a ship. Just like old times. Chasing some idiots throughout the clouds. Pirating convoys. Even appreciating the company of some of the fellow survivors from Antártida.
Then I got this. One patrol trip through Knossos stormy atmosphere…near the big alien construct. I found this artifact. This “toy”. I kept it safe from the others. It was shining and I tractored it. I never tried to be near the Spirits or similar…but it was captivating. In front of the light, it messes with your emotions…a spell that gives you so much fury…I planned to dispose of it, but then it changed. It gave me…peace.
And then, I showed it to my new friends. Big mistake. Instead of peace, many of them were more feisty, more greedy, cockier. Perhaps, this was some sort of catalyst of desires…it must deploy hormones or pheromones through its brightness…or some mierda like that, I do not know…I am not a scientist. My expertise maintained it safe, but once again I was putting in danger those who were…decent and honest with me.
I left Ruiz and never to return. I made a fuzz on the bar; my companions did not want to leave me alone this time.
But I am tired…I have lived 156 years…my family died 9 decades ago. My stubbornness has kept me all this time. I cannot and will not forget. It is enough.
I hope that these stupid words make sense to the ones who receive this message….
I just…want…to…relax…”
Cruz, becoming less conscious and more in-touch with his visceral thoughts, tried to confirm the evident conclusion:
“I guess…that is all…AAAAH!”
Warm became heat and the whispers became screams.
“AMIGOS! CAN YOU HEAR ME?!?!?! SHOOT THE DAMNED THING! OR TRACTOR IT, I DO NOT CARE!!! DO IT NOW!!”
This time Cruz was right, as he became paralyzed: The lack of self-control and resilience of Cruz made him highly susceptible to the device. Only eyes and thumbs could be moved, a mind trapped on a disabled body, looking at the clouds in complete impotency.
![[Image: 0WfuF9g.png]](https://i.imgur.com/0WfuF9g.png)