It had been a long time since the Commander thought of home. How long had it been since he'd seen its shores?  Too long!
"I come from Kreos," he began, "a rather pleasant world in the Southern Sector. There's not much to tell, really.  Being the first born male of the family I followed tradition and became a warrior. I attended the local academy.  For some reason they were impressed and I was sent on to Imperial. On graduation I was made the Third Officer of a cargo escort.  Spent most of the war doing that duty. Fought off a couple of small raids.
We rallied to the capital when your forces broke through, but the Emperor saw fit to make peace, so we didn't see battle.  As we have been rebuilding our fleet I was given command of a new vessel, and here I am, trying to do my best!"
"And now," the Warlock announced, "you are in the cabin of an infidel defending the honor of The Empire, your ship, and your men."
"That I am!"  the Commander announced, straightening himself.  "Really, Warlock, I thank you for the food and drink.  They were enjoyable but considering this matter is so grave, I think we have lapsed far from decorum. Should that evidence you mentioned not be ready by now?"
The Warlock looked at his watch. "Certainly should!" he agreed. He rose, went to the wall, and activated a communication's device.  "Records, this is the Captain.  Where's that tape you're preparing?"
"On its way up, sir!" a voice answered.  At that moment the door buzzer sounded.  "Thank you, records," the Warlock answered.  "It's here.  Enter."
The door opened, a young officer stepped in, saluted, and handed the Warlock the recording tape.  "Thank you!" the Warlock responded. The officer saluted again and departed.  When the door was shut behind him, the Commander went to a nearby wall, inserted the tape in a slot, and pressed some buttons.  A large section of the wall lit up in almost life sized scenes. "Freeze!"  the Captain ordered.
"Up until the leaving of the entertainment center," he explained, "your crewman's report was accurate.  After that the truth is bent considerably.  The officer involved was named Fields, but everyone calls him W.C.  It would take too long to explain why.  At the time the incident occurred he was calling the ship because he'd lost his way. I ask you to sit through the recording.  We have both voice and video pickup.  Play."
The pictures again began to move. It was a street scene and a man was leaning against a wall, holding the communicator in front of him.
"Hey, communications!"  the man was saying, "This is W.C..  Anybody on duty up there?"
"Gregory, W.C., " a voice answered.  "What's your pleasure?"
"I'm lost, that's what!"  the officer answered.  "Can you figure out where I am and guide me back to the ship?"
"Sure thing, W. C!"  the second voice answered. "Let's see....you're...."
"AH!"  There was a sudden cry of pain, the image blurred, and was replaced by a view of the sky.  Then three rapid shots rang out followed by the sound of running feet.
"W.C!  W.C!"  the voice on the ship was calling, "What happened?"
"Imperials," the stricken officer answered, "I've been stabbed!  Need help!"
There was the sound of more running feet, the image again blurred, and the face of a Purist security agent appeared.  "What ship is this?"  he asked, "What ship?"
"This is The Kennedy," the ship answered.
"We have your man," the security man told him.  "Medical help is on the way.  We'll take him to the nearest hospital.  Please send a medical specialist to assist."
"On his way," the ship answered.
The screen was filled with static. "Hold!" the Warlock announced.  "I think  that, in itself, would be enough to put doubt on your officer's story. But while we were examining the recording we found something else.  There's a window over the officer's shoulder.  The images are distorted and blurred, but still recognizable.  Play."
As the pictures returned the same sounds began but the picture showed five Imperial officers coming down the street toward the man at the wall. One took the lead, suddenly jerked his dagger from its scabbard, and thrust it hard into the other man's back.  The screen again went blank.  Then the viewer shut down, and the tape automatically ejected.  The Warlock rose, took it out, returned to the table, and sat it down beside the dagger.
The Commander seemed to stare into space for many minutes as if he did not see the Warlock, or, the room, then slowly his head came down and he stared at the dagger on the table.
"Though the images are fuzzy," the Warlock continued, "we think they match the dead Imperial officer.  Do you recognize the others?"
The Commander nodded.  "You will want them surrendered to you, of course?"  he asked.
This time the Warlock nodded.  "And what will their fate be?"  the Commander inquired.
"If they make full confession," the Warlock told him, "life in punishment.  If they deny their guilt, trial and execution."
"As I now have no honor before you," the Commander announced, "I can do nothing but comply to your wishes."
He leaned forward and picked up the tape. "May I borrow this?"  he asked.
"Of course!"  the Warlock answered,  "But I understand you were deceived. You have lost no honor in my eyes."
"Perhaps not in yours," the Commander answered, "but I am responsible for the actions of my men, responsible for keeping discipline.  Much will have to occur before this dishonor is forgotten in my record. My men will need time to