>sec officer confronts the ling who ate the HoS

    Roger was a private person.

    As far as Kane knew, Roger was simply a foot taller than him and a couple ranks above him; the man spoke in short sentences, straight and to-the-point. They were friends, yeah, but not in the kind of way that made them talk about the past. They believed in the moment, the sole moment, the time it was right now-- and they decided one shift over a Beepsky Smash at the bar that nothing in the past was worth shit in space. It was too far away.

    The past can’t get anyone so far away from home.

    No, no, but they were friends, and they went way back. Sure, they’d come a couple words from shooting each other on multiple occasions, and even when they could relax, Roger was always the Head of Security, and Kane was always two ranks below, but that was part of it. They needed a dynamic, they needed structure, or they were the same as the pieces-of-shit wearing grey jumpsuits, prowling the halls of their assigned space station just to find things to steal. When Kane stepped out of line, Roger kept him in line. No more words than necessary. No more motions than needed. And, much to everyone’s surprise, this lasted longer than every other partnership on the station.

    But good things always end. Roger was a private person. He died and not one man on the station knew who had done it, and none of them knew anything else about him, either. They didn’t know if he had a family, if he had a home, or- God forbid- if he wanted to be buried. Not Kane, for sure. Kane sat dumbfounded, and quietly ordered him to be taken to the morgue, as he was the acting Head. Not revived, not cloned, but morgued. Some things can’t be healed, and there really wasn’t much of anything left in the Head of Security to heal.

    It hurts a guy like Kane. He wasn’t the sort to show hurt, but it hurt him.

    He wasn’t particularly surprised when Roger walked into the entrance of the Brig, naked and stony-eyed and firm of expression, and waited for him. There were no other guards left-- they’d all buggered off, and Kane wasn’t strong enough to keep them. He stared blankly at Roger, for a moment, pulled his taser from his belt, and got to work. Like he was supposed to.

    No more words than necessary. No more motions than needed. Cuffs on the man, orange jumpsuit, orange shoes. For a moment, Kane considered beheading the Changeling, for he knew what it was; the concept had become common knowledge years ago, though some still opted to try and forget. But he couldn’t bring himself to hurt the Head of Security, not without asking why, not without proper procedure. So he strapped the stony-eyed man to a chair in the interrogation room, and stood, and waited.

    Waiting did not work. Kane waited for five minutes, holding himself so he didn’t shake, but the creature didn’t even breathe, so he sat opposite, put his hands on the table, and spoke first.

    “You killed him.”

    “No.”

    Kane sighed quietly. Anger replaced anguish. “Yes. He’s dead, and you took his fuckin’ shape. You’re a shapeshifter.”

    “I’m not dead.”

    “You are,” said Kane, but he had misspoken, and caught it. “I mean-- he is. His corpse, it’s in the morgue.”

    “That is not my corpse,” said Roger.

    “You’re right! You’re fucking correct! You killed-- the Head of Security, you fuckin’ monster!”

    The man in the seat simply sat back an inch further, and waited for Kane to be still again, for he had been shaking with fury. “You’re going to release me, Kane.” The voice was gravel. Harsh. No more words than necessary. No more motions than needed.

    There was yelling on the radio.

    Kane flinched.

    “Don’t try that shit with me. I’m the acting Head, and you’re not even a crewmember. I’m going to burn you in the incinerator when we’re done, that’s what’s going to fuckin’ happen.”

    “Why are you interrogating me, then?”

    It was fair enough to ask, and Kane obliged. “I just-- wanted to know why you came back. After you killed him.”

    “I need my best officer back under control. You’re out of line, and shit’s out of control. I can’t fix the second without the first.”

    Kane’s brow furrowed harshly. “Don’t copy his fuckin’ voice. Please.”

    “Why would I come back if I weren’t me, Kane?”

    “Because you’re sick! You’re a goddamned monster!” In his head, he knew. Surely this can’t last much longer-- if the Changeling says another word, I’m blasting his head off. Kane was sure.

    “No,” Roger said. “One of the xenos, last week, that’s a monster. That horde of blobs in Xenobiology we fought off a few days ago, those were monsters. Hey, you know-- that bitch receptionist at Medbay who told us they were too busy to give us bandages? She was a monster.”

    There was screaming on the radio.

    Kane stiffened up.

    “Stop,” he said.

    “That prick Quartermaster who sent us a crate full of bees, remember that? That guy was a monster. I remember giving him ten minutes, but if he went and cleared all the bees without any gear, we’d let him go-- ha, Kane, do you remember?”

    Kane shut off the radio.

    Kane stood up. He reached for his energy gun. He’d gotten it off of Roger’s corpse.

    “That time we went after those Vox raiders, and they left their ship out in the open-- we got our hardsuits together and waited for ‘em, and had all six before the shift had hit the hour mark. Or those two Nuclear Operatives who broke into my office, and you walled it off with the RCD, so the borg could get ‘em-- and the time we lit the bar up with just stun batons when the power went out and the Assistants were breaking all the glass, Kane--”

    Kane was shaking.

    Kane was aiming.

    “I’m sorry.”

    Then, Roger spoke only one sentence, only one, no more words than necessary: “Do you really want to erase all of him?”

    His voice was calm, now. No frantic tone or fear or gravel. Utterly stoic, simple, succinct.

    “What?” Kane asked.

    “I am asking if you want to get rid of Roger.”

    “You killed him,” Kane said.

    “But he’s not gone. He’s still here, right here. If you shoot me, you get rid of Roger, too. His memory. His knowledge.”

    “I don’t need some fuckin’ Changeling to remember what we did together. I’ll remember it. I remember it all.”

    “Do you remember Roger’s family?”

    Kane’s PDA received a message.

    He flinched.

    “When Roger was twelve, he was sitting in an ice cream parlor, which was being robbed. There was little danger, as the robber only had a switchblade, but it was cut short by a police officer who Roger remembered as ‘his hero’. Interestingly, he had mostly forgotten about this event, even though it was eventually the reason he became an Officer for Nanotrasen. He was married at 27. Nobody else knew this but him. He was infertile and adopted a son, and later a daughter. He lived in a two-story home at the corner of an intersection with asphalt roofing. He left for an extended stay in Nanotrasen-owned space two years ago. Do you want to know why?”

    Kane’s PDA received another message.

    He stood still.

    “Please,” Kane mouthed. His finger tapped the trigger. Set to kill. He couldn’t do it.

    He couldn’t kill the last memory of a dead man.

    “Do you want to know why, Kane?”

    Roger was a very private person.

    “Kane?”

    Kane’s PDA received another message.

    He flinched.

    “Do you want to know why?”

    He shook.

    He shuddered.

    He sobbed.

    Two minutes had passed. Under the table, Roger’s cuffs finally fell loose, after so long of working them apart. He leaped from his place in the chair and had Kane under him in a moment. Soon, something had sprung from Roger’s finger, and pricked into Kane’s skin; he could no longer move. He could no longer speak. His radio did not respond to his whimpering. It was already off.

    In a few moments, Roger was wearing Kane’s clothes and dragging him off. The lights of the Brig left his eyesight, and soon only the dimness of a maintenance hallway could be seen, and the large body of his former Head of Security, clutching his arms and being sure not to let him rattle any pipes, lest it make too much noise.

    No more words than necessary. No more motions than needed.

    “Because it paid well,” said Roger. “He left because he needed money. Why did you leave home, Kane? I'm curious.”

    Kane choked under Roger’s grasp. He felt something terrible enter his sternum and begin draining him.

    “I see. Well, don’t worry. I’ll keep it all a secret.”