I stared in disbelief, kneeling next to Pat. He’s gone. Patrick’s gone. No; no, he couldn’t be. NO! I let loose a long, inarticulate wail.
Henry looked on curiously. “All that energy, just to try to save a cause he fought to keep alive,” he noted, then mused a moment. He unpocketed a syringe, drawing from Patrick’s limp arm, then emptying its contents onto a reader. His eyes glinted with mild surprise.
“Well, it wasn’t only exertion, but that combined with the amount of the paralyst in his system,” he observed nonchalantly.
“Wait,” I began, rising slowly, “you ordered to have him captured?” He nodded.
I took a flying leap towards Henry, pinning him to the wall by his neck. “Do you mean to tell me that you killed him?!” I hissed.
“In a sense, yes,” he gasped.
I shrieked, letting tears fall in a torrent. I didn’t care who saw; let them stare! I didn’t care who knew; let the whole world know!
I fumed, Henry was gasping in my hands, two seconds from going unconscious.
“Oy! What’s going on in there?”