Thoughts In Chains

[rosetto 0]

Sal kept silent, not that he had much to say or anyone to which he wanted to speak. He stared intently at the guard that was standing in the hatchway. This was a brutish fellow with three-days' growth on his chin and a noticeable scar on his left cheek. From his brief conversation, if one could call it that, he had no respect for his own shipmates as far as Sal could tell. It was highly unlikely that this man was going to listen to reason. Sal might well be trying to convince a Bynaut that there was a logical state between true and false. Though he didn't feel that he was in any immediate danger, Sal did wonder what was going on with the rest of his crewmates. He couldn't call any of them friends but they were his immediate companions and presently the only way that he was going to survive this ordeal.

 

He couldn't focus on the expedition or its findings; not with his hands bound and weapons bearing down on him. All that flooded his thoughts was this ordeal... yet another ordeal. Sure, he had been in some tight scrapes before and survived just fine. It just wasn't his forte'. It was one of the main reasons that he had left Star Fleet in the first place, crooked politics. Life on K'Normia was peaceful by comparison. He was second guessing his decisions yet again as he looked around the room trying to determine if there was anything he could do.

 

He had to think about the present. These guards were 'on' about something; concerned with his computer skills he gathered from their statements to Ford. He had no idea what it could be and was bothered by this. He had to get a handle on this mission. He felt that there was definitely some information that he needed to know before he could proceed. Playing dumb to these guys was only going to work for a short time. What were his options? He really didn't have too many. Joe had told him to limit his evaluations until he returned to QoB.