P u l s e . (( part eleven ))

I don’t go to Fallon’s funeral. I’m too busy arguing with the Council. I can’t hear what I’m saying, or what they’re saying; it doesn’t matter, anyway.

This was such a mistake. I shouldn’t have come back to Headquarters. I wouldn’t be dying if I hadn’t. This is just another mistake in host of too many others. One more stain of failure on the burnt remnants of the Corps uniform that I never truly deserved.

I can’t help but think that I’ve done wrong, coming here and trying to convince them to give the position to Aleta. What if she can’t handle it? The thought makes me jittery, nervous -- my hands are shaking, but I can’t let them see that. I can’t let them have that satisfaction. I can’t let them know just how pathetically scared I am.

And yet, I can’t help but worry that this is all a big mistake.

But I had to see Aleta, one more time.

> P u l s e . (( part ten ))