In one part of the Universe, the Captain was triumphantly striding over to a shocked Annika and refraining from gloating only because he knew time was of the essence. Soon he would be discovered standing over two bodies, one he would admit to shooting after claiming he had heard Princess Annika calling for help. “Sadly,” he would claim, “in the darkness and in my shock at discovering the Princess being raped, I fired before realizing the boy wasn't just holding her down, but had a pistol to her head as well . . .”

In another part of the Universe, the Universe that existed outside the Captain's own mind, things were transpiring a little differently.

Naked and hand-in-hand, Art and Annika walked over to consider the Captain's vacant-eyed stare as his moment of triumph played itself out in his own head. There was no real conversation between the two of them, just instantaneous understanding, but had it been a conversation, it would have gone something like this:

We could have just killed him, Art thought to Annika.

You could have, Annika corrected. I could not have, and that is why we did not.

Art shook his head. He really . . .

Hates me, yes, Annika finished the thought for him, and her sadness was Art's sadness. But he did not always. When we were young . . .

You played together as cousins will, Art completed. I know, it's like it happened to me too. He even saved you from drowning once, and . . .

And that past kindness from him is why I am letting him enjoy his moment now, Annika confirmed. Despite the fact that he . . .

. . . had no problem with the idea of spoiling our moment . . .

. . . not only did he fail, he would have finished us off quickly . . .

Not from mercy! Art protested, helping to re-establish some of his individuality in the process.

Nevertheless, Annika continued. When we return his senses to him . . .

His fate won't be a quick one, Art grimly agreed. Father will see to that.

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