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Shawn had actually become interested in something aside from complaining about his current predicament. Name the first actual case of what could be called crime on the ship. True, it had already been solved, without any help from himself, which was kind of annoying. But it was still in his general area of expertise. And so, he had may the trek down to the precinct to talk to Sam.

"You're retarded, you know that?"

Did we say talk? We meant bother.

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Sam was laying back on his bed with his hands tucked behind his head. "Is that your professional opinion? Because, if it is, I don't remember signing up for any tests," he countered sarcastically, just like a Winchester.

"Well, the whole being shot in the head thing can't have done wonders for your judgement skills. And the hunger strike plan isn't exactly making me trust your intelligence."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing I'm not after your trust," Sam countered, turning his head to look at his visitor but making no move to get up just yet. "Besides, it's only stupid if it doesn't work."

"Oh, it'd be a perfect plan if we weren't trapped someplace with a working medical facility. Didn't it ever occur to you that whoever built this thing might have invented something like, I dunno, a feeding tube?"

"Of course, it occurred to me. Hell, even if there isn't one on board now, I'm sure it wouldn't take Brainy long to make one, and he probably will if he hasn't already. But they won't use it."

"Really sure about that aren't you?""

"Positive," he answered, his tone firm and confident.

"Even though you're probably at least mildly brain damaged, advocating the killing of someone who was more-or-less forced into his position, and who also might actually have clues on how to get us the heck out of here?"

And that definitely triggered a reaction. A quick way to piss Sam off would be to even suggest that the Yeerk was just a blameless victim, and Shawn had done just that. Sam was on his feet in an instant and at the cell door in an instant, pressing his body against the bars as he leered at Shawn.

"Don't you dare! That slug wasn't forced into anything. It's not the victim."

"Prove it. Prove it to me, and I will use my legal knowledge, which is surprisingly considerable, to argue your case."

"Why did it lie?" Sam asked pointedly.

"If I recall, you were pointing a gun at it. I don't know about you, but if were him, I'd feel pretty much inclined to keep trying tp lie my way out of the situation if I wasn't sure the guy on the other end was going to be killing me or not."

"Doesn't fly. Because, if I recall, I still had the gun aimed straight at its head when it finally admitted the truth. And it only did that after it found out the Kandrona pool got blown. No more friends to back it up."

"Or no more superiors to punish it for revealing the plan."

"Right, because that's what it's saying now. Because we might kill it if it tells the truth. It's like you said, you'd lie, too."

"Yes, that's what it's saying now. It's also the same thing indicated by Lirat's opinion of it, relayed to us by Cybil."

"Oh yeah, that's convincing. The only thing backing up the Yeerk's story is the opinion of another Yeerk." Sam shook his head and crossed back over to his bed. "And you think I'm the retarded one."

"Yeah, the Yeerk who blew up all the other Yeerks."

"Yeah, but only after I nearly died and a lot of other people got hurt," Sam pointed out. "If that's your idea of someone with good judgment, then that's your prerogative. Coward or not, Schmuz knew their plan, he went along with it, and he helped them. If he really thought what they were up to was so bad then he could have warned someone, anyone, but he didn't. And, in my book, that makes him just guilty as they are."

"Hey, I'm not condoning what he did. Mostly I'm pointing out that cowardice, while definitely not enough to get him off the hook, is more tha enough to mitigate the sentence. To, say, lifetime imprisonment."

"Yeah, and if we were the ones really running this place then that might be an option. But we're not, so it isn't."

"Yeeah. If you really believed it was an option at all you wouldn't be so dead set on killing the slug."

"I'm so dead set on killing it because I don't consider gambling with other people's lives to a be a good time," Sam retorted. "Which is exactly what we'd be doing by keeping the damn thing alive. And lifetime imprisonment isn't a option because we can't even decide for ourselves what we want to eat or what we want to wear. The ship does it for us. And you guys seriously think we can just decide to lock the thing up indefinitely like we're the ones running the show?"

"So, you actually think the same ship. Who's been slamming us into the wall for stuff like punching each other and trying to get into locked rooms, is going to let the slug go free even thought it tried to fry her entire nervous system?"

"She kidnapped us and stuck us into pods full of snot for some 'great purpose' that she won't tell us anything about. I'd say, yeah, if it suited her 'great purpose' to let that thing out, she'd do it in a heartbeat," Sam answered, quickly adding.

"And that's assuming she's even the one really in control. According to her we're not alone on this boat. There's someone else here with us. Someone who actually has some control over the thing. Someone who wants to kill us. And we have no idea how much control they have. They might be able to free the damn thing just keep us off-balance or to thin us out before they decide to come after us."

Sam paused then, looking at Shawn and shaking his head. "You know what, forget it. I keep saying the same thing over and over and not a damn one of you is listening. Why should I expect you to?"

"You're forgetting one all-important detail here Sam. What gives you the right to be judge, jury, and executioner? And before you even tell me it's because you had one in your brain, I'd like to point out the one in question isn't the same one. If anyone has the right to pass judgement on Scmuz, it's Tony, not you."

"What gives me the right? I dunno, Shawn. Probably the same thing that gives you and the others the right to gamble with my and everyone else's lives because your 'morals' would rather let it live and wait until it actually kills people before you'll do what needs to be done.

"You tell me, where does that right come from?"

"How about the right to not change who we are and always have been based on some guy's who we barely know, and has already proven himself untrustworthy after agreeing to a trial and then planning subvert said trails decision, say-so?"

"All right, that's fair," Sam conceded--but only for a moment. "So how many lives is 'not changing who you are' worth to you? Huh? One life? Five? Ten? All of us? How many people? Give me a number?"

"How many is killing that slug worth to you? What happens if I'm right, but you get what you want anyways, and, by doing so, we lose a chance to go home?"

"There'll be other chances," Sam answered confidently.

"Maybe. But how many people will die before we get another?"

"How many people die just to maybe get this one?"

"Well, let' see. If I'm right, which I am a lot of the time, none. And, no offense, I'm more willing to trust my judgement over your right now."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"Oh, a couple of reasons. Half to see if this wasn't some sort of personal revenge scheme that you had managed to convince yourself was for the good of the ship, and half to point out that they're gonna find some way to make you eat."

"No, it's not about revenge," Sam replied.

"Not entirely, anyway. And if they think they have to make me eat then they are welcome to try but I'm not goin' down without a fight."

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