NOP: The Rejects of Sillis (13)

Another Chapter, another long wait. If any of you wanted to pry into Raksim's past, this is the chapter for you. Enjoy!

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The Nature of Predators Universe was originally created by .

Chapter Thirteen: Servants of Maltos

Memory Transcription Subject: Raksim

Date [standardized human time]: October 2nd, 2136

The entrance hall of Kaltis Tower was chaotic. On the ground floor, earthbound species went about their morning duties by dodging and weaving between each other in a disorderly mass. If they had to get somewhere particularly quickly, they trotted on the periphery, not stopping to apologize if they bumped into someone. Airborne species could navigate above the disorderly mass, thanks to the enormous cavity at the building’s center and its high vaulted ceilings, but the sheer number of them still necessitated sharp turns or dives to prevent collisions.

In spite of its tumultuous nature, the crowd parted for me and Director Kala. Such was the respect they had for us. The more subtle individuals turned an ear to us as we passed, hoping to catch a fragment of our discussion. The snout-pointers and the stupid couldn’t help but stare.

“Anyone with a functioning brain can see that we’re making a mistake!” I shouted at the Director’s back, only to be met with an unsettling silence. “The humans may be predators, but they’re clearly less murderous than the arxur. We can make use of them!”

Kala suddenly wheeled around to face me. Her crude robotic arm grabbed me by the throat and pulled me so close that my beak almost collided with the aluminum facsimile that replaced hers. “We will *not* discuss this here,” she hissed in a tone that made my feathers raise. “Not with so many eyes on us.”

The crowd, knowing they’d been caught eavesdropping, turned their heads away.

“Very well,” I croaked through the metal claws that were constricting my windpipe.

She let go, turned her back to me, and continued on, with me following close behind her. She made her way to the elevators, where her mere presence caused a waiting crowd to disperse. She pressed the call button and waited.

A zurulian, a duerten, and a drezjin greeted us when the doors opened. 

“Going up?” the duerten asked after an awkward pause.

I hissed sharply and sent them scrambling out of the elevator, allowing me and the Director to take their place.

Kala pressed the button that would take us to the very top floor of the tower. The doors slid closed, and music began emanating from a speaker in the elevator’s wall–the kind of music that harchen record labels produced to appeal to every species and taste, only for it to fail to be liked by anyone.

“Should we continue?” I asked, hoping our conversation would drown out the infuriating melody.

With a series of clicks and whirrs, the Director pointed a metallic claw at a camera in the corner of the elevator. 

I grumbled and stared at the wall. The music continued playing, causing my beak to clench tighter and tighter. For a moment, I considered driving my claws through the speaker to silence it, but the doors opened before I could act on that impulse.

A flock of krakotl stared at us through the open doors of the elevator, which could only mean that we weren’t on the top floor yet. The dumbest of them shrugged and tried to join us in the elevator, but her smarter friends dragged her back by her tail feathers.

The doors slowly shut and the music started once again, prompting Kala to raise her metal arm, pry the speaker off the wall, and smash it underfoot. “Remind me to have that fixed later… and to erase the security footage.”

“Of course,” I replied.

We spent the remainder of the journey to the top floor in blissful silence. 

The doors parted for the final time, bathing the elevator in the warm, orange glow of Nishtal’s rising sun. Kala led the way into her solarium office, claws clicking against the ornate tile floor as she went. The room's décor was typical of a high-class krakotl like her—with plenty of comfortable perches and images of Inatala–but one particular item stood out. 

An arxur skull sat atop the Director’s desk, held up by a simple metal stand. Its vacant eye sockets and slack jawbone made it seem like it bore a stunned expression–the same face it made when Kala clawed out its jugular in exchange for the wing it dismembered and the beak it shattered.

I settled onto one of the perches in front of her work desk. “As I was saying–”

She silenced me with a metallic claw as she passed.

I rolled my eyes and let her proceed.

Kala strutted behind her desk, opened a drawer, and produced a bottle of algae liquor, along with two small glasses. After pouring two drinks, she took a swig from the bottle and put it back where it came from. Then, she signaled for me to speak with a wave of her wing.

“I prefer mine with ice.”

She stared harshly at me. With a sigh, she took my glass to a small fridge in the corner of the room and used the machine’s ice dispenser to fulfill my request. She slammed it down on her desk with a thunk, and waved her wing again–much more impatiently this time.

I took a slow sip before starting just to vex her. “Attacking Earth is a mistake.” 

The Director inclined her head, allowing her metal beak to cast a glimmer of sunlight into my eyes. “Explain.”

“The humans have expressed their willingness to help us combat the arxur. Thus, we should make use of them instead of simply destroying them.”

Kala swished her alcohol around and chuckled. “And you sincerely believe them? Need I remind you: they’re predators.”

“I believe the empathy test data the venlil provided.”

“The data they collected with flesheaters breathing down their necks?” she asked rhetorically.

I took another sip of my liquor and shook my head to recalibrate. “Even if the humans are putting up a ruse, their invasion of the cradle demonstrated that they’re far more cunning than the arxur. They would not risk annihilation by turning on us immediately. And, in the time they are working with us, we can use them to make incredible gains against the Dominion. If we handle them correctly, Kalsim and his ilk can swiftly destroy both of them after they have bloodied and weakened each other.

Kala narrowed her eyes and looked down her beak at me. “Who would provide them with sufficient weapons to do so? And why would the species that voted for extermination ever allow a single ship to come under the human’s control?”

“The kolshians didn’t vote for extermination. They have the military might to assist the humans and the political influence to contain radicals like Kalsim.”

“Are they containing him now? Command is already transferring ships and personnel for his ‘Extermination Fleet.’”

I hissed in frustration. She was right.

Kala held up her robotic hand before I could speak again. “These arguments are far too speculative. Do you have any more substantiated reasons for not snuffing out these predators before they become even more dangerous?”

I opened my beak, but no words came out. I stepped off my perch and paced about the solarium in thought. On one side of the room, I looked straight down into the void at the heart of Kaltis Tower and watched the people below go about their business. Various lines of argumentation played out in my mind. They all relied on the humans' potential uses and didn't meet her standard as a result. 

The other side of the Director’s office overlooked a complex of concrete and steel, where plumes of inky smoke and orange fire erupted from the various training courses. Beyond that was a vast expanse of verdant swampland, where flocks of colorful nonsapient avians rested or fluttered among the treetops, unbothered by our activities.

I shook my head and hissed at myself for my lack of focus. In the reflection of the glass, Kala stared at me and repeatedly tapped her beak with a claw. Tink, tink, tink…

I redirected my gaze to the close quarters combat course, where a prickle of gojid were earning their qualifications. Finally, an idea came to mind.

“What about the gojid refugees on Earth?”

“Better for them to die alongside their captors than live as cattle,” Kala said in a sickeningly mellifluous tone.

My feathers raised at the callousness of her answer. “Shouldn’t we make an effort to rescue a species that’s on the brink of extinction?”

“But what’s the point of rescuing the ones on Earth? They’ve all contracted predator disease by now.”

Another irritated hiss escaped my beak. I stalked over to Kala’s desk and leaned over it, nearly knocking over her prized skull. “The council didn’t vote for extermination! Some even voted for full diplomatic relations with the humans. If we go through with this, how long will it be until we’re considered too violent and unpredictable to be part of the galactic community? How long until an extermination fleet sets course for Nishtal?”

“The kolshians won’t let that happen to the Federation’s greatest enforcers. Furthermore, who would they replace them with?”

“The yulpa or drezjin would make strong candidates.”

“We’re back to hypotheticals.” Kala said flatly.

I sighed and glanced out the window again. From behind the horizon, a spaceborne frigate slowly rose into the sky. Its ascent rustled the surrounding trees, sprayed water in every direction, and sent avians fleeing in little bursts of color. Such a sight wasn’t unusual at Kaltis Tower. We were [14 kilometers] from one of the largest repair and refit depots on Nishtal.

“I have one more hypothetical for you.”

Kala took a large swig of her fermented algae. “Very well.”

“If the rumors are true, Kalsim is deploying our defense fleet in its entirety to his mission, leaving Nishtal and entire sectors of space undefended.” I turned the arxur skull around so it was looking at Kala. “Which begs the question…” I lowered my voice an octave and puppeteered its jawbone as I spoke. “What if we find out?”

She batted my claws away from her trophy and pulled it out of my reach. “The arxur are foul animals. They lack the intelligence apparatus to even learn of such an opportunity.”

“The humans will tell them.”

The Director cocked her head. “How could you know that?” 

“If you faced total annihilation, wouldn’t you threaten their enemy with the same?”

“Perhaps I would, but this is going nowhere, and I’m tiring of it. Why did you bring this issue up to me of all people?”

“You taught us to play the Servant of Maltos–to question our superiors relentlessly–even if their logic is sound and we agree with them. It kept us from making mistakes in the past.

Kala reclined on her perch. “You thought I disagreed with you?”

I blinked several times. “So you think attacking Earth is a mistake?”

“Of course, I do!” The director chuckled. “I was trying to find the flaws in your logic!”

“I was… doing the same to you.”

We locked gazes for a moment before breaking into bitter laughter.

“Was there any point to any of this?” Kala asked with a piercing tone.

“I thought you might be able to raise this issue to a higher authority, so we could reverse course on this disastrous decision.”

“Unfortunately, I am as powerless as you. We’ve both looked a gray in the eyes too many times for them to not reject our ideas as insane ramblings.”

“So, we’re in agreement and can do nothing to affect the outcome,” I said dejectedly. 

Kala finished what remained of her drink with a single gulp. “I suppose we’re finished then.”

“I have one more question: are our exterminators being summoned for this atrocity?”

“As of now, command isn't mobilizing anyone at this facility. I doubt Kalsim would want his fleet sullied by the likes of us.” A pensive look crossed her face. “Though he does keep company with Jala, and if what they say about her is true, we may not be as safe as we think.”

“Agreed,” I said as I turned to leave.

“Raksim…”

I looked back at Kala, expecting a final word from her. 

She tapped a claw on my unfinished glass.

I picked it up and downed it–ice and all–in a single gulp. I shivered as it burned its way down my throat.

“We will not speak on this subject again. Or both of us will end up as a pile of ash on the floor of a crematorium.”

“Of course,” I answered, my voice still hoarse from the alcohol.

Kala lifted her skull off its stand and made it speak for her. “Now, get out.”

I bowed my head respectfully and made my way to my preferred exit–not to the elevator, but to the balcony.

I pushed through the door, climbed up the railing, and spread my wings apart. In this position, I was able to sense even the subtlest breeze with the delicate movements in my feathers. A strong headwind prevented me from gliding as far and as effortlessly as I wanted, but I could make due with a short commute today, given I was already late.

I pressed my wings tightly against my side and stepped off the railing. For a moment, I was in complete free fall, with the wind howling past my ears and my stomach feeling as though it had risen into my throat. The terrain below surged toward me.

At the last possible moment, I spread my wings again and harnessed the momentum I had built to speed over the training complex, swiftly maneuvering around the taller structures as I went. The finale of my stunt sent me careening into a courtyard, where I slid to a stop in front of dozens of silver-suited exterminator cadets.

My theatrical entrance didn’t go unnoticed. They swiftly transitioned from milling about in their own little groups with their headgear off to forming orderly rows and standing at attention. Despite their best efforts, they still needed substantial improvement.

A single yotul, attired in a similar manner to the cadets, stepped forward and positioned himself before the group. He moved at a measured and deliberate pace and, upon stopping, stood straight as a board with his paws clasped behind his back.

The cadets shuffled nervously under his gaze. Many of them no doubt realized that they were just gossiping with a superior among them.

I greeted the yotul warmly as I approached. “Good morning, Larso.

“You’re late,” he said without even turning an eye in my direction.

I was unperturbed by his curtness. “I had a matter to discuss with the Director.”

“The Extermination Fleet?”

“Of course.”

“Are we going?”

“As of now, no.”

Larso’s posture slackened ever so slightly. Most people wouldn’t have even been able to tell the difference, but I knew better. “Should we start, then?” he asked.

“After you.”

The yotul flicked his ears forward. “Attention Cadets! Raksim, Head of Training at the Kaltis Initiative, wishes to address you.”

I paused briefly to survey my new exterminators. As expected, a little more than half of them were krakotl, but there was a healthy mix of other species as well. The yotul cohort was disproportionately large, with them making up ten of the forty cadets, but that was to be expected.

What piqued my interest was the yulpa sitting on her haunches near the back of the assembly. She held her fireproof hood in her tongue and fiddled with it as I eyed her. Her name was Yasiri. According to the records we had on her, she refused to ritually slaughter a predator. During her PD sentencing, her parents requested for us to take her in lieu of placing her in a facility. I had to admire their efforts to protect their daughter, but she wouldn’t be any safer here.

I broke eye contact with the Yulpa. “Welcome to Kaltis Academy. You are here because of a predator disease diagnosis. But instead of rotting in a PD facility, we are giving you an opportunity to redeem yourselves by fighting on the frontlines of our struggle against predation and barbarism. You will pave the way for colonization and bring the light of civilization to savage worlds. Furthermore, if one of our colonies suffers an arxur incursion, you will fight them. For both tasks, you must conquer and wield two things: fear and fire.”

On queue, Larso donned his headgear and retrieved his flamethrower from behind one of the pillars that surrounded the courtyard. He used the weapon to paint a thick line of fuel across the enclosure. Then he lit it with a small puff of flame. A wall of fire instantly divided me from the cadets.

“For your first test, you must walk from one side to the other!” I shouted over the flames.

For a moment, the cadets were deathly still. Eventually, the bravest of them–one of the yotul–put on his headgear and stepped forward. He waved a gloved paw through the flames, testing if he could feel their bite. He felt nothing and, with his cautious instincts satisfied, stepped through to the other side.

The yotul’s example allowed the others to unlock their courage. One by one, the cadets crossed over to our side of the courtyard, until Yasiri was the last person remaining. When the yulpa realized she was alone, her eyes went wide, and she tried to back away.

I fluttered over the inferno and landed next to her before she could escape. “Is there a problem?”

“I’m afraid of fire,” Yasiri answered, transfixed by the flames.

“Afraid of fire?” I laughed. “Only predators and dumb animals are afraid of fire. And you don’t look like a predator.”

Yasiri continued staring. “I didn’t want to do this in the first place,” she whispered to herself.

“I don’t care what you want. Walk through!”

“No, I can’t. It’s just… Can I just fail this course?”

“If you fail, they will transfer you to a PD facility, where they will torture you daily until they break you.” My low chuckle came from the back of my throat. “Or–given that you’re a yulpa–perhaps they’ll splay you out on an altar and do what they wish with you.”

Yasiri’s expression darkened. She lifted a hoof to take a shaky step forward, only to return it to its original place.

I launched myself into the air and landed on the yulpa’s shoulders. “I have precious little time for cowards like you! Larso!”

The yotul casually strolled through the flames that separated us, still brandishing his flamethrower. He sprayed fuel on either side of Yasiri, creating a [v] shape.

“What are you doing?!” the yulpa bleated.

“As I said before, failure isn’t an option here!”

“This is insane! You’re predator-diseased!”

“Of course I’m predator diseased!” I took the black-tinted visor from her tongue, slipped it over her head, and zipped it shut. “We’re all predator diseased here!”

Larso walked behind us and laid down another trail of gasoline, forming a triangle with Yasiri and me at its center. He turned his pilot light on and lightly touched it to the liquid on the ground. In less than a [second], the fire roared to life and surrounded us.

Yasiri bucked and spun wildly, trying to find an escape route that didn’t exist.

I stomped on her shoulders to get her attention. “Just walk through it! You’re protected!”

In spite of my efforts, the yulpa continued her frantic episode.

I turned an eye to Larso.

The yotul backed away and sprayed fuel into the center of the triangle, shrinking what little safe space Yasiri had. She froze as the flames crept closer.

“Walk through or burn!” I commanded.

Finally, Yasiri charged forward. She must have closed his eyes, because, instead of stopping once she made it to safety, she ran face-first into a column.

I hopped off her back. “What did I say? The fire didn’t hurt you.” I chuckled to myself. “The pillars, however…”

The yulpa shook herself, stood and set her black, emotionless visor against me. A wrathful snort came from behind the mask. Her tail lashed furiously behind her.

I raised feathers and displayed my talons. “Before you act, remember that I was killing arxur before you were even born.”

The yulpa struck her hooves on the ground, creating a crack that echoed through the courtyard.

I didn’t show any reaction.

Yasiri grunted and bowed her head to my intimidation display.

“A wise choice,” I whispered before turning to the crowd of cadets. “From now on, Larso will be your instructor. Listen to him and you’ll succeed.”

“Why do we have to take orders from a primitive?” One of the krakotl cadets asked loudly enough for everyone to hear.

The entire yotul cohort turned their heads and shot nasty looks at him.

Larso’s visor cast a cold, intimidating glare at the krakotl. “Because this primitive knows how to use a flamer and you don’t.” He raised his weapon and shot a fireball over their heads to accentuate his point.

Their panicked faces summoned a laugh from the back of my throat. “It seems you have the rest handled,” I said as I unfurled my wings for takeoff.

Larso stopped me. “Sir?”

“What is it?”

“I need your assessment before you leave.”

“Of course. Based on what I’ve observed, we shouldn't expel any of these cadets. Push that yulpa harder than the others, and she’ll succeed in spite of her cowardice.” I drummed my claws on my beak. “That yotul that crossed first–make him a squad leader.”

Larso bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you.”

I reciprocated the gesture before taking flight. Once I was clear of the buildings, I adjusted my heading for the section of the training yard reserved for more experienced participants in our program.

After a brief, uneventful flight, I landed amidst a gathering of exterminators. They had arranged themselves into squads of twelve prior to my arrival and, unlike the recruits, maintained rigid and purposeful postures. Their fireproof suits and flamethrowers showed signs of extensive use but were otherwise well-maintained and functional.

I chose one of the squads at the front of the formation to start with. There wasn’t much notable about them, except for who stood in its leadership position. She was a tilfish, and, unlike most members of her species, her carapace was slate gray instead of the more common reddish brown. She was here because of excessive aggression, like me.

“I recognize you. Myrm, was it?” I asked the squad leader. “That’s correct, sir!” the tilfish shouted.

“Your squad will be the first to perform the dropship interdiction exercise. Prepare yourselves and await further instruction,” I commanded.

“Understood, sir!” Myrm said as her squad began reading their weapons and inspecting each other’s fireproof attire.

The sleek and angular silhouette of an arxur dropship appeared on the horizon as they worked. Normally, such a thing would be cause for extreme alarm, but here it was a regular occurrence. The remnants of botched raids made exceptional training resources. In addition, someone had to do the dirty work of purging their filth before the scrap yards bought them.

We braced ourselves against the dropship’s downforce as it lowered itself over the training area. When it was just a few [meters] above the ground, the engine cut out, and it fell to the ground with a massive bang, shattering the cockpit windows and crumpling the hull in several places.

The troop bay door at the rear of the dropship opened not long after. A young yotul sauntered down the ramp and bowed theatrically before stepping out of the way for a team of technicians. One of them smacked him in the head and called him an idiot as they passed. 

The crew pried open two smaller doors on either side of the vehicle, allowing me to watch as they worked inside. They opened several panels in the floor of the troop bay and, with great effort, pulled six energy cells from their compartments. In all likelihood, they were mostly drained of any power they once held, but even in that state, they would make the dropship burn for days rather than mere hours.

I turned my attention back to the exterminator squad. “Myrm, what is the purpose of this exercise?”

"To stop an arxur raid at its source–at the dropships,” she said, her voice muffled by a fireproof hood.

“Come now. There’s more to it than that,” I said impishly. 

The tilfish’s antennae twitched. “To strike fear into the arxur by meeting them head-on.”

I glanced back at the technicians. They had finished their work and were wheeling the energy cells away for proper disposal. “Correct. You may begin the exercise.”

With a wave of her chitinous graspers, Myrm set her exterminator squad in motion. They split in two directions as they entered the training ground and took up positions behind the concrete building mock-ups on either side of the arxur dropship. They lingered, bodies tensed with anticipation.

A piercing buzzer echoed through the training ground and sent them leaping to action. They emerged from the hiding places and rapidly encircled the dropship, spraying fire as they approached to obscure themselves. As the exterminators closed in, half of them shifted their aim to the three entrances of the troop bay, engulfing it completely. The other half sprayed fuel into the engines’ air intakes and onto the cockpit.

It was a textbook maneuver. One I’d found to be extremely effective. 

All twelve of the exterminators kept firing for [30 seconds], extending their onslaught long after any arxur would have expired. Then, they moved to a safe distance and ended the exercise.

As the dropship burned, I could feel the heat on my feathers. It felt good, like the morning sun.

I chuckled in satisfaction as the squad leader passed me. “Well done, Myrm.”

The tilfish took off her headgear. “Thank you, sir, but is there anything I could improve?”

“You did everything according to procedure. The only improvement you could make was doing it faster.”

She dipped her antennae in understanding, but her mandibles seemed taught. 

“Was my answer not to your satisfaction?”

“No, it’s something else.”

“Tell me,” I ordered.

“I’m graduating soon. After that, I’m going to be fighting on colony worlds for a very long time–the rest of my life maybe. I was wondering how you kept going. Did it not tire you?”

“The years took their toll.” I gestured to my graying feathers and ran a claw along the crack in my beak. “But the first time I saw fear in the eyes of an arxur–it was a tremendous feeling. The thought that I could fight back against those monsters–using their own tactics–was intoxicating.”

The tilfish’s compound eyes were harder to read than those of other species, but concern was still clearly evident in them.

“You’ll understand when you experience it for yourself. Dismissed.”

Myrm and her squad fell back in line, and the next group stepped forward. The exercises would continue for the rest of the day.

Memory Transcription Subject: Lieutenant Isaac Yankovic 

Date [standardized human time]: October 31st, 2136

A deathly silence filled the cafeteria. 

The TV mounted in the corner of the room held everyone's attention. The morning news was broadcasting, and they had just aired footage of Chief Nikonus admitting—on a live broadcast no less–that the Federation had genetically modified omnivorous species to be herbivores.

Halvah, Brol, and the other gojid looked down at their shaking claws, as if they had suddenly realized how dangerous they could be. Grigoryev, sensing Halvah’s unease, put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Wonderful. How am I going to deal with this? 

A strange croaking squawk interrupted my thoughts. The krakotl awkwardly perched on the chair next to me was chuckling to himself.

Brol stared at Raksim in disbelief. “How can you laugh at a time like this?”

Something broke inside the krakotl. He let out a full-bodied cackle with a dangerous, manic edge to it. “I had to be an exterminator for [30 years] because of my ‘excessive aggression!’ But we were always predators. I’m a predator! I’m closer to what a krakotl should be than any of the people who threw me in that facility!”

No one should be like you, old man.

“Thirty years?” Andrews asked from across the table. “That would mean you’re in your 40's, right? You look closer to sixty or seventy. I’m not an expert on krakotl aging, but–”

Raksim jumped onto the table, scattering plates and knocking over several drinks. Of all the things I could have saved, I chose my cup of coffee.

“That’s what you’ve chosen to focus on?!” The krakotl squawked. “Look what they did to me!” He opened wings, startling everyone in his immediate vicinity. It was easy to forget just how big his species' wings need to be to lift them. “This is what being in a facility for years did to me! What being an exterminator did to me!”

Andrews looked down in shame. “Sorry.”

“You’re a predator now, right?” One of the privates from First Platoon interjected. “Why don’t you try some meat?”

Me, Huang, and Jackson all fixed him a withering gaze.

He scrunched in on himself and fell silent.

Meanwhile, Raksim was looking down at the myriad of options at his feet. Bacon, eggs, breakfast ham…

“Don’t,” I ordered.

“Why not? I’m a predator after all.”

“You might have an allergic reaction.”

“Since when have you cared?”

I looked him dead in the eyes. “I don’t particularly care right now, but I also don’t want to drag you to the infirmary first thing in the morning or leave you at the mercy of those two.” I jerked my head toward our yotul medics. “Now sit down, shut up, and eat your vegetables, old man.”

Raksim’s hackles rose. He flexed his claws and stared at me with a dangerous glint in his eye.

I met his hateful gaze with one of my own–cold and uncaring. 

Everyone around us fidgeted uncomfortably or prepared to break us apart.

Andrews slowly stood and put a hand on Raksim’s wing.

The krakotl turned to look the Captain in the eyes before slowly lowering his talons. He stepped back onto his seat and settled into a perched position.

“As for the rest of you…” I looked to gojids’ table. “It doesn’t matter whether your ancestors ate meat or not. You’re still the same people you were before, and you still have training to focus on. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the gojid mumbled in unison.

“Good.” 

With that, I turned my attention back to my breakfast. Raksim sat in silence at the edge of my vision. Tears welled up in his eyes. For the briefest moment, I considered stroking his head to comfort him, but I remembered that doing so might cost me a finger.

I’m sorry, old man.

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