He was roused from a peaceful sleep by his manservant Jim, "Sir, please wake up. There's someone here to see you."

William Gillespie muttered, and tried to dismiss the man with a wave of his hand. Another shake, another plaintive request, and he sat up grumpily.

"Who is it then, that you have to get me out of my bed at this ungodly hour of the night?" he thundered.

Next to him his wife stirred, but quickly fell back into her liquor aided slumber and snored quietly.

"Please, Sir, it's Master Andrew. And he said if you didn't come willingly, he'd fetch you himself. You must come with me."

William gave Jim a glare, then pulled on the pair of pants that the frightened man handed him. He then threw on his silk dressing robe, and followed Jim down the stairs, smiling warmly when he saw his visitor.

"Drew! What in the heavens brings you here at this hour?" His smile faded when it was not returned.

"I take it you haven't seen the transmission?"

"What transmission?"

Andrew approached, and took his friend's elbow, "Come with me."

They walked into the study, and Andrew pulled up the cortex, projecting the image to the large screen on the far wall.

William was transfixed, "But that's Dr. Caron...what is this all about?" he demanded.

"Just watch," Andrew replied, his face grim.

As William watched what was unfolding in front of him, he felt the blood draining from his face. And when the final image of a madman raping his former colleague crossed the screen, he sat before his legs could give out.

The loop began again, the images of people who had just laid down and died, the explanation of what happened, then her awful screams.

He looked over at Andrew, with fear in his eyes, "No, it can't be..."

"It is. The truth is out, William. Someone discovered Miranda, and is now transmitting this all across the 'verse."

He scrubbed his face with his hands, "Turn it off!"

Andrew complied, then looked over at his old comrade, "They'll be coming for you soon, you know. They'll need a sacrificial lamb, and since the Miranda project had your name written all over it, you'd best be prepared for the worst."

"How...?"

"I don't have all the details. As your friend, I wanted to make you aware."

William sat up defiantly, "I'm not going anywhere. Let them try to discredit me if they want. I was only following orders. I was doing my job."

Andrew gazed at him with sadness, "And thirty million people died because of it."

William's expression changed to one of despair, "But I was just following orders..." The despair turned to tears of regret, which slid down the old man's face.

Andrew put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "You need to figure out what your next step is going to be. I'll leave you to that task. Godspeed, William."

Once alone, William sat at his desk and pulled up the transmission. He forced himself to watch it over and over, and finally he did know what had to be done. He got out a pen and paper and wrote a short letter. He then rummaged around his desk until he found his old service revolver. With steady hands he loaded it, cocked it, and put the barrel in his mouth.

The single shot roused no one in the household. And the next morning, when they were awoken by Alliance soldiers banging on the door shouting to be let in, they all learned the truth about what guilt could drive a man to.