“Who rubbed that piece of metal then?” the Captain asks.

“I did.”


“—I was someone else then,” the Commander continues, “there was no time to seek the help of a cleanser-protector and I rushed.”

“A rush job?” the King exclaims, “She-Coats always eats her victims by savouring them slowly and—“

“—Inside the box were more boxes;” the Commander continues, “I hadn’t expected it.  It was meant for protection: having no key and no cleanser-protector meant one had to dig deep: I had to open each box until one of them would feel it was safe to let the dust evaporate for the good use intended.  Do remember that time was short, our world was being invaded and we were unable to fight back.  We were a peaceful people.”

“What has your sister got to do with this?” the King asks.

“She was holding the box firmly in her hands.  She’d been running, lagging behind… stumbling, falling.  Spinostress’ guards, they…  She’d been clasping the box with all her might.  She died in this way before me.  The warriors had been ignoring me, thought I was just another lost child.  They were talking… letting me cry over her body.”

Captain Traumatic, King Krackskull and Labaguette observe a change in the Commander’s demeanour, one they’ve never seen before: his tentacles are hanging loosely, grey, lifeless and without any hint of a spark.  His body appears enlarged with liquid that trickles down his sides and that, once released, floats up in space in bubbles until they pop.  The three of them can feel sadness oozing from this being’s physical form and, were they not so wary of the Commander’s wicked ways, they would shed a tear.

To be continued…


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