Mayln sat in front of his monitors solemnly. Every little communication from the ship danced before him. But for once, he didn’t care. Things were different now. Mayln held the power he so desperately hoped for and yet it felt wrong. Every fiber of his being told him that taking on the Empire was a mistake. Their position was tenuous at best. The fragile bonds Mayln had carefully constructed, while maintaining his independence, were being pulled tight.
Mayln had done many things that were uncharacteristic. Demands of his employer, taking on and inquisitor, siding with the rebels. None of it made any sense. People were tools for Mayln to use. That is what he’d thought for so long. So why risk everything for the crew? It’s more than for his job. Mayln wouldn’t have taken so many risks if it were. Then why? Had he come to care for these people? Enough to risk everything he’d worked so hard to create?
Maybe this was all wrong. Mayln tapped his finger on his private data pad, still waiting. He also realized that this was new. He’d never waited on someone like this before. So engrossed in the desire for contact that he wasn’t working on something else. This was all part of the problem. Mayln has cared more for other after meeting this crew than before. That must have made him susceptible to these feelings. He needed to see her, he needed to help Gort, he needed to protect Beck and the others. Needs that didn’t help Malyn. When had he grown so attached… so weak?