A Spaceman

Chapter 14--It's Cadet (Try a little Cadet!)

TRIGGER WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE HERE IN...INCASE THE SONG CHOICE DIDN'T TIP YOU OFF

Ten minutes after we escaped the brig, hating each other I might add, I am pleasantly surprised to find myself bloody and happily disposing of a body side by side with Tyrell. But to back track, just a little for I do hate the boring bits. I'm sure you do too. But it is essential you understand what transpired since it is imperative to understand whose body it is and why we are disposing it (spoiler alert: it's not Ebbel, yet..), and since I have a feeling you weren't here, I shall recap. I don't know where you go when you aren't with me playing games but I certainly hope you enjoy it because I've been having a simply marvelous time here without your ethereal presence.

Well, thing of it was, I couldn't actually tell Tyrell what I was going to do—well, I could but it was hardly advisable, so instead I let him think I was going to go and vandalize Leavitt's guidon. Again. he was down for such a conspiracy, so off we went across the base towards the barracks where the guidons were stored overnight. But to do that, we had to pass the DFAC, where Peter and one of the Tims were doing their night duties of preparing food for the next morning. We all have to take turns, provided we aren't in the brig (another ulterior motivation for my frequent stays there, but I digress). We heard noise from inside, noise not consistent with meal preparation. So I suggested we investigate, this is what transpired.

"Wait---why do you get to decide where we go?" Tyrell asked, follow me angrily. He's choleric, I determined.

"It sounds interesting," I said, looking in the windows of the DFAC, which were too dark to see through. I could still distinctly hear somebody crying 'help' however.

"Somebody's calling for help," Tyrell said, coming up and getting interested.

"Let's see if it's legitimate," I said, going to the door and again using Thorne's code to get in.

"What do mean?" Tyrell asked, wary now of being discovered out wandering about.

"Well, maybe they don't need the sort of help they think," I say, sincerely hoping that somebody's been decapitated by the meat grinder and I will get to practice my body disposal improvisational skills. First I get to participate in Card's School of Asphixiation this morning now a---well it's not a decapitation but it's still a dead body so I decide I'll take it. Card's Finishing School is now in session.

"Help---thank god you're here, he's bleeding badly," Peter gasped. He was trying, fruitlessly I might add, to do CPR on a Tim, who was suffering from amelia of the right arm.

"He's dead," I said, kneeling down. he's stone cold.

"What happened?" Tyrell asked, sniffing the blood on the floor.

"He was loading the meat in for the pies----I think his hand got stuck---I don't know---he was screaming---I called for help don't they see this on the bloody cameras?" Peter asked, as I gently moved him away from the Tim. The CPR is doing no good, he's lost far too much blood. "Wait---I think I should keep trying."

"It's over, Peter, he's bled out," I said, probably very callously.

"I tried to call for help---I hit the panic button, but they must not work in here, I don't know----just---just go get help, I'll stay with him," Peter was shaking now, the entire incident had emolliated him completely.

"No, let's not do that," I said.

"No," Tyrell agreed, "They'll blame you for at, at the very least, call you in for questioning as you may have been involved. It's tricky whenever there's a death on a military establishment, I know we had one at the Academy when I was growing up---all sorts of press and brass involved."