The screams of the dead still echoed in Richard Slayn's mind, memories made only five days ago. He was sitting in the large leather chair located in his chambers aboard the galactic Federation vessel called the Val'as. He cradled his head within his hands, attempting to quiet the screams. But the phantom calls of help and the shouts of accusations continued to ring within. The memory of each face lingered on his mind, each one belonging to a member of his previous crew. A constant reminder how unforgiving a Federation job could be.

     He looked up, his hands falling to his lap. His eyes focused on a vid-picture holographically projected above his desk. The photo was of a woman with long amber hair flowing in the wind. She was wearing a Federation uniform and smiling brightly at the camera. Her right hand was waving at the person taking the photo.

     Jeen, thought Slayn, the best crew member I ever had, and a better friend overall. His mind wandered to the time when he first achieved the rank of captain and how easy of a decision it was for him to appoint Jeen as his first ranking officer.

     She was standing under a purple tree with glistening black leaves. It was her favorite place on her home-world. It was the same tree he was at only hours prior, kneeling at a tombstone with her name freshly etched into it. He reached towards the photo, but his hands only went through the projection.  

     "Sir," said a calm feminine voice from a vertically imbedded screen at his desk.

     The sudden call pulled Slayn away from his thoughts. "What is it, Anno?" he said as he leaned back in his chair.  

     "We are approaching planet Neglave. Docking in approximately forty minutes."

     "Thank you. Please send word to Kluupo, let him know our current location."

     "Yes, sir."

     With a sigh, Slayn grabbed the mug on his desk and took a sip of his cold coffee. He had not slept in days. Not since the incident five days ago. He put down the mug and grabbed his Holographic Easy Notepad, a small device issued by the Federation that stored digital information and provided communications among other "HENs", as they called them.

     He tapped the screen and opened a collection of six files that were labeled classified.

     "The new crew?" piped Anno, unexpectedly.

     "Yes." He flipped through each file on the slick screen of the HEN.

     "Are they sufficient replacements?"

     Slayn tossed his HEN onto the table in front of him. It hit with a thud and slid a little. He remained quiet, staring at the vid-picture again.

     "Captain?"

     "Anno, you really have no sense of empathy."

     "I apologize sir. I can search for an empathy upgrade if you wish me to."

     "Cancel that, Anno."

     "Yes, sir."

     He stood up, moving to the large window in his chambers. He looked out into the vast blackness of space, trying to take his mind off the past. But all he could see was a darkness abound with darker memories. The reinforced glass reflected an image of his tired face, his gold cybernetic right eye shining back like a dull star. He looked away.

     "Anno," he said. "What's the cost of forgiveness?

     "There is no concrete answer in any my data searches, captain."    

     A few second of silence passed by.

     "But," said Anno, "I would forgive you."

     Slayn smiled somberly. He knew the computer's answer was honest.

     He looked up and noticed he could see the small outline of the planet they were approaching. Neglave, an artificial planet built at the center of the galaxy. Encasing the black hole at the center to harness its power. Constructed entirely by the Federation when they proclaimed galactic governance around one hundred years ago.

     The silver metallic-looking planet was a sign of Federation power; the controllers of the galaxy. The very corporation he worked for and the people who were forcing fresh recruits onto him against his judgement.

     He did not need a new crew. He could go alone. Nobody would have to die under his command again. But the Federation refused to listen to his desires, a recent staple in the conversations he had with his superiors.

     "Anno, prepare chambers for the six new officers."

     "Yes, sir."

     Time was drawing closer for him to meet the new people who were to follow his orders, his choices, and his mistakes.