Federi had finished his round of the Schooner. There had indeed been exactly twenty. Only Sherman, Paean and Ailyss’ brother were now officially aboard. He considered for a moment doing the same on the neighbouring schooner. But it didn’t really matter now. Captain would lead the other ships into a trap and finish them off, or simply outrun them. The head-start he needed, had been supplied. They would be alright now. Perhaps, for a little while, the Solar Wind would still have a future. A week, maybe two. After that…
Federi sat down on a crate. Of course he would get away again, he knew this. Federi always survived. Everyone else died, everyone he loved, and Federi lived. And Federi so richly deserved to die, this time! He had brought it down on all their heads! Federi, the low-life.
His radar had failed him, led him into this bloodbath. Federi was finished, used up. He couldn’t do good for the Solar Wind anymore; only wreak havoc. It was as though against his will his past was catching up with him. And the past had no shape, you could not stab it in the heart. It was worse than ghosts. It would come and devour them all…
He examined his Stiletto, which he had rinsed carefully after finishing off his last victim. It was a beautiful blade, razor-sharp, so sharp he sometimes thought the edges blurred. His oldest friend.
His hands started playing with the smooth blade, and a small smile played in the corner of his mouth. There was always the real reason he carried this singing knife. Why not right now? It was a clean, pain-free way to die. Very fast, too. A nearly perfect death. Delete Federi, and you deleted his past!