mercy

“Lets open it, then.” Caban said, sighing and reaching for his gun. I had to interject.
“Caban, be…”
“Careful? Of course.” He always shakes off my concern, but it wasn’t what I meant to say.
“No. Be…merciful.”
He looked at me strangely.
“You’re worried about the stowaway?”
“It’s an understandable position. Most likely, they’re terrified.”
“Or homicidal.” He countered, not inaccurately. “I’ve dealt with ‘em before.”
“So have I.” I replied, and finally he understood. I saw him bite back a grin, and he said, “You didn’t. When?”
“Fourteen years ago. Tickets were expensive.” Maybe someday I’ll tell him the story, if he asks me. “Do we call Ice?”
“I learned right away not to call that woman from sleep unless it’s an emergency.”
“And this is…?”
“A situation we can easily handle.” He said cheerfully, grinning and hefting his gun. All I could do was sigh and walk with him into the cargo area. As we passed the security panel, I pressed the silent alarm that would bring Kon and Ice to the bridge. Disobedient, as usual. Caban stopped before the crate I had pointed to, and considered his options. There was a good chance that the occupant was well-armed and dangerous, so it was best to stand aside. However, he was angry, and wanted to express his indignation at having been robbed of an entire crate of profit. A good first impression was important. I could only imagine how the stowaway must be feeling, about to be plummeted into a bright world of confusion and chance. It had been so long since I had been the one inside the box, blinking in fear at the ominous figure and uncertain future looming outside.
Caban pressed the release button and the side popped out and clattered against the crate in front of it, and when nothing moved for several seconds, we leaned in to peer in surprise at what was inside.