[ The longer this goes on, the more Miles has to wonder if he's going insane. This (new?) arrival is no exception. He stands over Bothari with a mix of sorrow, longing, and flat out disbelief. Not that he has much to stand over Bothari with. At least the man appears to be the right age, even if Miles is now thirteen years removed from the event. And Miles himself ... He's an inch taller, his spine (mostly) untwisted. But the price he paid for it is evident in the needler scars poking up from above his collar. And the lines on his neck that indicate blood drainage for a cryorevival.
He swallows thickly, trying to marshall his thoughts. How many times had he rehearsed this in the months after Bothari's death? How many apologies had he laid in front of the incense burner? They won't come now. They've turned to so much lead in his mouth. ]
Sergeant Bothari? [ His voice is quiet. ] It's me.
no subject
He swallows thickly, trying to marshall his thoughts. How many times had he rehearsed this in the months after Bothari's death? How many apologies had he laid in front of the incense burner? They won't come now. They've turned to so much lead in his mouth. ]
Sergeant Bothari? [ His voice is quiet. ] It's me.