Vargus grit his teeth. This was, clearly, not how he wanted things to be. “Fine! It’s my mess. You should not suffer for my mistakes,”
“Your candor is admirable, captain,” Karapanov said.
“Jim?” Locke saw to the doctor.
“I’ll be fine.” Morris said, “Might need a few stitches,”
Locke tore a sleeve from her uniform, “Here put pressure on it,”
She stood up and faced Vargus, “We need the Grenna,”
“I’ll take you to the brig,” nodded the captain, and he pushed himself past his security guard who drew his pistol, “I can’t let you do that, sir!”
Vargus spun on his crewman, “Sykes? What do you think you’re doing?”
“I can’t let you help them. Without the Oxy, we’ll all die!”
“If we don’t help them, we’ll die!” Vargus stated, “put the gun down!”
“It’s been too long,” Sykes’ face streamed with tears,
“Put the gun down and we’ll get you a shot, Sykes!”
Karapanov rolled his eyes, picked up a chair and launched it at Sykes, taking him full in the head. The gun fell harmlessly to the floor.
“I’m sick of waiting,”