In a Lurch

No. He didn't have to take this. They had left him in a lurch for the last time. It was their turn now.

He began making preparations. Files needed to be backed up onto his flash drive. Check. A few individuals needed to be informed. (He didn't really want to screw everyone, after all.) Check. Certain emails needed to be backed up to his personal account. Check.

Uncheck.

He hadn't realized how many emails he had to sort through.

He decided it might be a good idea to take a moment and actually think this through before he took any actions that couldn't be undone.

He closed his eyes.

The garrison slowly removed the blade from his captain's back, his hand shaking as the weight of what he had done settled on him.

The other three garrisons and the first officer all instinctively set their weapons on him, ready to execute a command that wouldn't come from a man who could no longer give it. The garrison took their moment's hesitation as an opportunity to try to undo their captain's dying action.

He desperately pressed the purple button on the wall over and over again, beckoning the ship's automated to voice to respond, but it could not.

Why had he killed the captain? Why would he do that? It had been as if something stronger than himself dragged his blade against his will. The captain had commanded the Keresian Protocol, but he had truly been the one to initiate it. Maybe he could still undo it.

The lack of response from the ship's computer was the first sign that it was too late.

The stirring of Captain Hunter's body was the second.

The captain's lifeless body was slowly rising to its feet, its eyes filled with darkness. "Keresian Protocol One," it said in a voice that sounded less like Captain Hunter and more like the unresponsive computer, "has been initiated. Prepare to fall."

"No!" The garrison shook his captain's body. "You can't do this!"

"Keresian Protocol Two initiating in three . . . "

"Captain, stop this!"

" . . . two . . . "

The garrison pointed his blade at the captain's throat, knowing it was futile.

" . . . one . . . "

"Elements defend us," the garrison said, accepting his fate.

"Keresian Protocol Two initiated. Proceeding to Keresian Protocol Three."

The ship suddenly lurched and the garrison felt as though the entire universe was slipping away.

Somewhere on the lower decks, a creature with the appearance of a man named Hemming and the voice of a man named Corson looked down at the lifeless bodies of his respective doppelgangers and smiled as the ship lurched.

The garrison clenched his fists, hoping beyond hope that somehow this would work out.

He opened his eyes.

Screw waiting. If he thought through it, he'd never do it.

He quickly skimmed his emails, looking for anything he thought he might want at a later date. There wasn't much, but one in particular caught his eye as it showed its face. Quite literally.

A face with which he was becoming all too familiar was staring back at him.

He quickly jotted down the phone number at the bottom of the email and shoved it in his pocket.

He then quickly wrote the letter that would change his life, grabbed all his personal belongings from his desk, and marched down to his absent supervisor's office.

Now they would learn what it felt like to be left in a lurch.