He wondered if his crew was alright, if they got away, if they were safe on Jurakín and hated him as much as he hated himself. He sat there for hours, watching stars and planets and entire galaxies zip by, his body burning with embarrassment and shame. The imperial guards standing around him had their intense gazes permanently trained on him from the moment he climbed onboard, and he couldn't bear to look anywhere near them, so he just kept his focus on the thick glass separating him from deep space, no matter how much he wanted to observe his surroundings. He didn't even notice it at first, as he sat curled up next to the window of the highly guarded ship, wallowing in his own self pity and scolding himself for being so idiotic. The Commander's ship was much, much worse. The biggest ship in the imperial fleet was apparently not Scott's ship, Mitch realized very quickly.
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