The lights dimmed and a man walked out from within a wall of light. Seth, having resigned himself to capture did not get up from the floor, if they wanted him to die all they needed to do was not help him.
"Who are you?" Asked Seth.
"I should ask you that. Since you ain't grunting at me I'll assume you are human" replied the man, keeping his distance.
"Thank you for saving me, I am with the human army" Seth replied unsure of what else he should disclose.
"Who isn't" replied the man as the room became less bright and he shifted his weight, taking a rifle out from behind him.
"I don't suppose I'll need this right" said the man motioning to his weapon.
"No sir. Are you part of the army?"
"God no"
"The navy?"
"Even more fuck no" replied the old man with white hair that fell around his face and a beard unkept like his rifle.
"Are you part of the military???" asked Seth.
"What on gods green fuck would make you think that" replied the man shocked at how dumb the question was written on his face.
The men around the old man laughed as they pointed and jeered.
"Oh Jim, you are a military man now"
"What a handsome military man "
"Protect us military man"
The men around Seth looked upon him on the floor, boxes and crates stacked high in the room.
The metal bands on the crates black, rusted and worn down from repeated uses.
The upper mezzanine ran a ring around the room. The men on the grates clanged with every move all with guns pointed at him.
"What shall we do with him?" asked the old man to the crowd.
Silence followed.
"What group is he from Jim!" yelled a man from the furthest corner.
"What group are you from" asked the old man as he moved closer to Seth, the worn hands holding his gun, the callouses from years of work.
Seth weighed up if he should tell them he was a scout or if he should tell them something safer. Maybe he could be a navy officer a high standing fellow?
Thinking about all that had occurred because he was a scout, the treatment he had endured, the betrayal, the schemes and looks thrown his way from the people he worked with, his own people.
How could he deny that he was a scout, deny who he was. A fire he had long thought suffocated from the constant unrelenting pain of his life.
"I am a scout" he declared not yelling but the firmness in his voice left nothing to doubt.
"A what?" replied the old man, Jim.
"He is a scout"
"A scout is here" came murmurs from the room.
"What is a scout doing so far from the fron?" asked the old man as he looked at his crew, half a step back and ready to retreat further when necessary. He had never seen his crew react like this, he knew not what a scout was but he knew his crew.
Their guns no longer trained with the accuracy tey once had, instead they guarded their bodies with the stocks of their guns as if they were his savour, the bullets but a mere afterthought.
The look in his men's eyes told the old man what he needed to know about scouts, they were something to be feared, even hated. something that was not human, a thing of war.
...
Mongrel watched as time passed, first one minute then ten, then 30. Each time he checked the ever black sky in front of him he hoped that Seth would use his beacon, then he would be able to make the captain go save Seth.
Time passed and the beacon did not go off, Seth did not activate his beacon.
"Why, why is he not activating it"
"Maybe he doesn't want to die a dogs death" the crew laughed as they mused about how Seth would die from suffocation or from the Druin, they cared little of which one occurred but found amusement in the idea of either.
Finally, after hours and the laughing being replaced with silence the ship finally left. The mission was over, the deed done.
If Seth was not on board because he had died on the mission they did not care.
Mongrel watched as the space before him pulled away further and further, leaving behind the fleet of Druin soldiers. He could not help but think mournfully this was the last time he would see Seth again. He held his head as the dread flowed over him.
How could he let this happen, he looked at the men around him, not a care for him and even less for Seth. He felt his body going hot, the adrenaline he had was enough to full two full grown men and his body had been designed to be able to handle it.
His hand moved towards his gun, he felt the cold steel under his fingers before he pulled his hand back.
"No, that will blow a hole in the ship" Mongrel muttered. Before the crew could understand what he was talking about he leaped with his knife drawn and he cleanly slit the man to his lefts throat. He remembered the face, he was the one to laugh the hardest at the thought of Seth's demise. The gargling he now made sounded far more pleasant to Mongrel's ears.
The men around Mongrel looked on with shock and horror they stared at the man who was scratching at his throat, his eyes growing bloodshot.