I’ve learned something in the last few hours, and I want to write it down before things go from bad to worse. Pash is injured and unconscious, Hygaar is tearing apart a cantina, and over the course of the past week, I’ve taken the lives of of seven sentient beings.
It could have been nine; it nearly was. Hygaar said (before running headlong into this dark building) that I could decide whether the two men who survived our attack lived or died. It occurs to me that I’ve made that decision seven times already—with Trax (a decision I’d gladly make again), with the Gand, with the Gammorean guards and the drunken soldiers that crashed in New Meen.
At the time, pulling the trigger on this rifle I’ve gotten my hands on seemed like the only choice to make. I’ve been calmer with each fight we’ve gotten into, and I almost didn’t think about killing the two guards who are laying unconscious outside the compound now. Looking at Pash, I still rather would like to.
I need to say to myself, and put it writing, that just because I want to take a life, I do not always have to. That’s line I’m going to learn to walk, if this is my life now. I may need someone else to make a similar choice in my favor at some point down the road. If this is my life now.
I should go check on Pash. And see if Hygaar found any Corellian brandy.