The unreasonable Scott Harris officer has one principle: it’s fine if he stirs up hatred himself all day long, but if anyone else does it on his behalf, they’d better be ready to face the consequences.

After all, Officer Harris is a real piece of work.

So the next day, Gerald Baldwin received an assignment letter, got shipped off to the space prison in one fell swoop, wore a sour old gourd face, and “happily” coexisted with terrorists for a full ten days. Everyone remembered his face, and only then was he tearfully transferred back.

But in the blink of an eye, that was fifty-two years ago. Who knows how that trouble-seeking old man is doing now.

The security building where they worked was also within the protection circle of a certain dragon pillar, but who knows which corner of the star sea it’s drifted to, how far away it is from here, or if there’s any chance of meeting again...

For now, Scott Harris didn’t have time to think about such uncertainties. He raised his eyebrows at the prisoner and said, “Thanks for your concern. I haven’t seen that old gourd-faced subordinate in a long time either, but he’s probably doing alright—at least he’s not in a cage.”

Prisoner: “……”

“I’m telling you, darling, if you keep blocking the way with a few more words, half the people here will drop dead.” Eric Bennett casually leaned against a dining table, both hands resting on the edge, watching the show with a relaxed posture for quite a while. “How are we supposed to eat dead fish and shrimp?”

For once, Scott Harris thought Eric Bennett made sense, and deigned to accept this sincere suggestion. He sighed, and without a care, reached his hand into the cage.

The prisoner’s eyes immediately widened, silently mouthing: If you come one centimeter closer, you’ll regret ever walking through that door.

Scott Harris held back for a moment, but couldn’t help himself and said calmly, “If your hands weren’t cuffed to the side of the cage and your knees weren’t shackled to the bottom, I might barely take that as a threat.”

The prisoner was about to get high blood pressure from anger.

But Scott Harris didn’t actually do anything to him—he just looked disgusted as he picked apart the prisoner’s tangled hair, revealing the upper half of his neck.

There was a thin metal wire clamped around it, like a delicate, understated collar.

At the joint of the collar, there was a small metal chip, its edge quietly flashing red.

This device was indeed standard issue in the space prison, called a sound-absorbing collar, used to restrain prisoners who suddenly became violently loud.

But according to regulations, the sound-absorbing collar was only a temporary measure for emergencies, put on prisoners just to prevent endless shouting from causing mass unrest. Once the collar was on, the prisoner should be immediately sent to a special isolation room, using medical and psychological devices to calm him down. Normally, it could be removed in half an hour.

The current situation was clearly against the rules.

Scott Harris rubbed his thumb over the metal chip. The red light dimmed for three seconds, then suddenly turned green. There was a click at the joint, and it unlocked automatically.

The prisoner hadn’t expected Scott Harris to release him, and was stunned for a moment before speaking with a face full of suspicion: “What are you trying to do?”

After all that shouting, the prisoner’s voice was hoarse as sandpaper.

Scott Harris didn’t withdraw his hand, just leaned on the edge of the cage and said, “Relax, I won’t take a bite before you start to stink. It’s just easier to get the facts if you can talk.”

He turned his head and nodded at Eric Bennett, “Alright, let’s interrogate suspect number one first. Tell me, how much of a scene did you make when you broke out?”

Eric Bennett didn’t care about his tone at all, and even smiled. He showed no awareness of being interrogated, lazily leaning on the edge of the dining table, drawling, “Reporting to the officer, you’ve wronged me. I left very quietly, didn’t even alert the guards, just happened to take a jump pod with me.”

He liked to speak with his eyes half-closed, fingers tapping the table edge like playing the piano, as if he was really recalling the process.

Scott Harris was skeptical: “That’s it?”

Eric Bennett thought for a moment, his tapping fingers pausing. “That’s it.”

Scott Harris raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Eric Bennett nodded innocently. “Really.”

Scott Harris’s face was expressionless: “…You expect me to believe that?”

Eric Bennett suddenly grinned, raised his hand and made a tiny gap between his thumb and forefinger, squinting one eye, “Before I left, on a whim, I pulled a little—a very little prank.”

Scott Harris: “What kind of prank?”

“Hacked into the fuel bay and shut off their main valve and power system.” Eric Bennett replied.

Scott Harris: “……” You call that a little prank?!

“Of course, they realized after I left.” Eric Bennett spread his hands. “What happened after that, I don’t know, but it couldn’t have been a big deal—I was only gone a few days.”

After hearing this, Scott Harris instinctively wanted to interrogate the second suspect in the cage, but suddenly remembered the information he’d received, and couldn’t help but ask Eric Bennett again, “Wait, what did you just say? Only gone a few days? What do you mean, only a few days? Didn’t you break out 27 years ago?”

Chapter 10 Go Out for a Walk

“Twenty-seven years?”

Eric Bennett’s look of shock was so genuine that Scott Harris pulled out his communicator and double-checked the date in his messages.