A Strange Sense of Guilt
13 Jun 2017LordPsymon
A Strange Sense of Guilt 
What has become of me? Dominated my thoughts as I sat back, slouched on the pilot’s seat of White Pearl.
I just sold a man into slavery.
I found it difficult to motivate myself to do anything as my guilty conscience gripped me. Dueling emotions battled within me. Even with the guilt, I felt powerful. The man who robbed me of three years of my life was sent to a fate worse than death by my hand. The tides had turned, and Gary Winkler had paid both myself and Benito Santiago handsomely for his capture.
Is this what’s it’s like? The feeling of total power over someone else? Is that what slavers get out of the deal?
It didn’t matter. Coming to terms with going against my morals was something that will take a long time. I hadn’t left my ship since Winkler left a day ago. I sighed, looking toward the metal walls of the hangar, watching the holo-billboards fizzle as different adverts cycled.
Benny and I decided to head back to Deggie’s to celebrate the success of bringing down Reck. The bar was almost full - the ambience of drugged up delinquents almost drowned out the conversation between Benny and I.
“So, where to now?” Benny asked, lighting a cigarette.
I paused, staring at the half-filled glass in my hand. “Not sure. I’m still processing everything that went on.”
“The job’s getting to you, mano.”
It wasn’t a question, but a statement, and there was no denying it. Not to Benny.
I took a deep breath, then knocked back the rest of my drink. “Selling a man into slavery… that goes against everything I stand for.”
Benny took a long drag of his cigarette, letting the ash fall onto the table. “Just remember who he is. Remember what he did to you, and all the lives he ruined. You brought justice for those he wronged, and for Valeria. You did the right thing.”
“I’m not so sure.”
Benny patted my shoulder. “Death is too kind for men like him.”
“I guess you’re right. Taste of his own medicine eh?”
“Exactamente. Sometimes doing what’s right involves stepping beyond your morals and challenging your deeply held reservations.”
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. “So, you’re into the philosophy game now, eh?”
Benny put on a sleazy smile. “The ladies love a philosophical man, amigo.”
“That’s why you’re absolutely surrounded by them, right?”
“I will be once I’ve tended to everything I need to get done, but first I have to meet an old friend back at Kremainn. What will you do now?”
I sighed. “I need to get rid of that Clipper. It’s way more hassle than it is worth.”
Benny cackled. “I told you that before. You know what they say: ‘there’s nothing more expensive-”
“‘than a cheap Gutamaya’. I know. Do you think Rolberto would buy it off me?”
Benny dabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table. “Amigo, that Clipper needs a lot of love, si?
It wasn’t a question he was asking, not really. “Si… I mean- yes.”
He grumbled. “And with the cost of Gutamaya parts? He’d have to sell it twice just to break even. You’d be better off unloading it off to some poor culero here and cut your losses.”
I gazed up toward the middle of the bar, watching the commotion with a blank expression. Benny was right. I’d either have to sell White Pearl at a loss or starve to death just keeping it running.
“Yeah. I realise I’m going to lose a bit but I want my Cobra back. That thing is reliable, and is sitting back in Kremainn building up storage fees.”
Benny leaned back, resting one of his feet on the table. “Well then, put up a bulletin with your data slate. When you get a reply, let me do the talking.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Put up a bulletin for a ship sale? That seems a little unorthodox.”
“People do it all the time around these parts. Sometimes it’s safer to cut the middleman and sell direct.”
I nodded, pulling out my datapad. “Alright. Here goes.”
After a couple of hours of posting a classified ad for the sale of White Pearl and easing up on alcohol consumption to prevent being wasted when I attempt to sell it to interested persons, my datapad beeped and an enthusiastic message appeared on the screen.
Greetings seller!
I am writing to express interest in your Imperial Clipper. Do my eyes deceive me at the asking price? I cannot believe my luck! I never thought I’d ever be able to own something so beautiful.
Reading the note felt like I had just travelled back in time to a younger version of myself. “Hell, this guy reminds me of me when I first saw the thing,” I said.
Benny, however, hadn’t let up on his drinking. “Poor bastard.”
I ignored his subtle jab and kept reading. Can we arrange a time for me to look over the ship? I mean, let’s be honest here, I am more than likely going to purchase it, but you know how it is. Always have to have a good look before you buy!
I look forward to hearing from you!
- Terryl “Leaf” Mox
I stroked my chin, turning the dataslate over for my friend to read. “Why ‘Leaf’, do you think?”
Benny shrugged. “As long as he’s got the creds and doesn’t look too close under the hood, who cares?”
Sighing, I looked again at the slate. The message was staring back at me, glowing orange letters still waiting for me to respond.
“It just doesn’t seem right, you know? Selling off a polished turd like this.”
A strange look crossed Benny’s face. “This from a man who just sold some bastardo into slavery. You’ve got a real strange sense of guilt, you know that.”
I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “I know, I know. But this is a matter of honor among pilots. And Reck really was a bastard.”
Benny smacked his lips and took a final pull from his drink. “Yeah, well- honor won’t pay the repair bills on that fancy hunk of junk. Just leave this to me, okay?”
Even as I got up to drain my bladder, I looked at my friend sideways. “You’re sure that you’re not Rolberto’s secret son?”
An almost reflective look spread over Benito’s alcohol-flushed face as he looked down at the leftover ice in his glass.
“Not really.”
“As promised, mano. Twelve million big ones.”
The credit chips that Benny dropped into my hand weren’t heavier than any others I had ever handled, but the weight of such a fortune made my head swim. I looked down at the glowing numbers reflecting from them, their six and seven digit sums staring back at me.
This is the most cash you’ve ever had, Simon. More than you ever thought you’d be worth in a dozen lifetimes.
Benny must have caught me staring at the pile of credits in my hand. He chuckled under his breath, just a little bit of envy making it past his facade of indifference.
“Don’t spend it all in one place, amigo.”
I held up a credit chip and tossed it his way. “Couldn’t have done it without you. I owe you one.”
To my surprise, the man flipped it back. Grinning, he slyly pulled a glowing credit chip of his own halfway from his jacket pocket, its six figures glowing against the dark leather.
“No, you don’t. First rule of living the life, mano: if you’re good at something, never do it for free. And I didn’t.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You’re a thief, Benny- but an honest one.”
The man slapped my back as he strode by me to leave. “Only with my amigos. Now c’mon. We’ve gotta make wake before the tonto realizes that he’s bought a lemon!”
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Many thanks to M. Lehman for helping get the ball rolling on this one.