“Look, I didn’t do it,” Hank said as he walked between the two men who’d come for him, his hands cuffed behind his back.

“That isn’t a problem,” one said.

“It’s not?” Hank felt a surge of hope.

“Not for us. For you, maybe.”

“I don’t –“

“We don’t make the decisions, Mr Mills. All we were told to do is come and pick you up.”

“I just thought, if you knew, you might –“

“No.”

Hank sighed.

The administrator hadn’t been keen on the cuffs. “This man’s just recovering from concussion. Are those really necessary?”

“Protocol.” He tightened them a little further. “Don’t want him running off on us, do we?”

“I’m sure he won’t be any trouble.”

“Of course not. Murderers never are.”

The administrator found a little backbone. “Every man is innocent until proven guilty, though, isn’t he? Even under Alliance law.”

The man took a step forwards. “That makes it sound like you don’t approve of Alliance law. Perhaps we should take a look at you. There might be something you don’t want us to find.”

He shook his head. “No, no, of course not. And if it’s protocol …” He shot Hank a regretful look.

“Ain't your fault,” Hank said, wincing as the cuffs bit into his wrists. “But thanks for your hospitality.” He looked at the two men. “Can I call my ship? Tell ‘em where I'm going?”

“Soon as we get you back to the station.” The first man pushed him, making Hank take a sharp breath from the bruises he still had. “Get moving.”

Hank had to comply, and now they were walking down a dark corridor, lined with discarded cargo containers.

“I really didn’t kill anyone on Ibis,” he said, glancing from one to the other. “I hate violence. It does something to me, makes my stomach …” He stopped talking for a moment. “Hey, wait a minute. This isn’t the way to the Fed -”

They grabbed his arms, but he fought back, just as he had the men who tried to take his coin. Only this time he was realising they were after something far more precious. He managed to kick one of them, who let