Echoes of the Past

Chapter Thirty Three - Part Two

Chapter Thirty Three: Shortcomings - Part Two 

Sam Hawkings made his way through the dimly lit corridors of the outpost. It felt good to walk for a bit, after their large dinner. While it was good to share a meal in pleasant company, Sam hadn't been able to shake the uneasy feeling of being around several Oneron again. His own people reminded him of his time in the military, and the bad memories that would creep up on him, tighten his chest and threaten to take his legs from under him.

The depth of his despair all those years ago still lingered over him, like the whisper of a forgotten dream.

But things were different now, for everyone. James seemed to have come into his own person more, looking relaxed over dinner, and made easy conversation with everyone. Evan also seemed to enjoy himself, although he had mostly spoken to the young girl, Melida, in quiet tones, as though they were not surrounded by others. Castan had proved a great hit with everyone, but it was easy for anyone to get along with him.

Sam turned a corner and headed for their sleeping quarters. He just had one last thing to take care of, and then he could finish the night with a strong drink. Jorak and Den were already getting started on the whisky, and Sam had told them he'd join them shortly.

Ahead, the room beyond the end of the corridor was shrouded in darkness. No one else could be heard. Sam moved slowly and quietly now as he approached the entrance.

He stopped by the doorway and looked down the long rows of bunk beds. Shafts of moonlight cut through the darkness, highlighting a few beds. Several feet away on Sam's right, on the opposite wall, his bunk lay in the shadows.

A dark figure moved over his bed, almost blending in with the darkness.

Sam had anticipated him there, but was disappointed to be proven right. He flicked the light switch on by the door.

The figure by his bed jerked up, suddenly exposed in the light. Wide, fear-stricken eyes stared back at Sam. For a time, they both stared at each other from across the room, a tense air over them.

"Castan," Sam said quietly, stepping forward.

The Canarrian remained with his eyes wide, lips quivering with unspoken words.

He came to Castan and saw he stood over Sam's satchel, open on the bed. A heavy brown sack was in Castan's hands. The bag of gold they had retrieved from Audlin.

"S-Sam," Castan said. He looked down at the sack, and then back to Sam. His mouth opened to say more but nothing came out.

"Was it all about the gold?" Sam asked. "The whole time?"

Castan tried to speak again, had to clear his throat, and then said, "No. Yes. I mean... Sam, you don't understand."

"I understand that coin is more important to you than people. More important than trust and character. A man like that, is no real man at all."

A deep frown lined Castan's troubled face. "I don't know what to say. I... I'll just leave, if you'll let me. I'll go, and I won't come back. You won't see me again." He reached down and dropped the sack on the bed.

"Would you tell me why?" Sam asked.

Castan shook his head. "Nothing can explain this."

"You're not a tour guide, are you?"

Castan's eyes were tense and sorrowful as he looked at Sam and shook his head again.

"You saw the opportunity to snatch a bag of gold and trinkets from a few city folk. And you weren't swayed by our swords, or the fight you had just witnessed. Not even the magic Evan had conjured that exploded two men. And you weren't even put off by a giant space dragon coming after us. Which means this coin was very important for you to have. More important than your own life."