Yet another kinetic projectile ricocheted off of the armoured hull of a shuttle acting as their cover. It deflected into the brittle concrete floor, leaving sparks and fragmentation in its wake, the round spraying the area with lethal shards. Displaced rubble fell like a sombre rain amidst pounding hearts. Over a dozen souls tensed, each of them awaiting her order.

Sunundra provided. “Move!”

The group bolted from cover, paw pads and boots stomping against the ground as they ran through the corridors of dry-docked ships. The panting of both human and Lilhun was drowned out by the din of combat. Shouts broached the cacophony, sorrow and fury roaring out in equal measure, yet they ignored how the former was becoming more prevalent. The constant sprinting was wearing the group down, and the circumstances that necessitated it was gnawing at their fraying nerves, but the pale-furred female gritted her teeth the hardest. She was falling behind more and more with every mad dash, only overtaking those who fell to enemy fire.

The rest of her unit pulled ahead as she hid the grimace of pain caused by her abused legs pushing herself forward. One paw held her stomach, the claws hooked into what little fabric they could gain purchase in. It made her stride even more lopsided, but it was disguising the trickle of blood coaxed by the heightened activity, preventing the others from questioning her weakness. Try as she might, applying pressure to the wound was out of the question for a simple reason; her arm wouldn’t obey her commands anymore. It had suffered too much. From gunshots to cuts, from overworking and enduring impact after impact, her shoulder wept its own crimson tears. Metal flecks had found their way into open wounds and irritated her raw flesh, grinding deeper into already torn muscles. Any haphazardly applied bandages had fallen off a while ago.

The defect stumbled behind the pack into the shade cast by the next spacecraft, straining her hearing to locate the repeated calls from the group that found a functional transport. It was so clear before, but now the voices melded into the staccato of firearms and stray shots slamming into concrete and steel. Pain bloomed during the brief moment of respite given to them by the bulwark they sheltered behind, a headache tearing into her like heavy machinery attempting to crack open her skull. She surrendered to the pain and folded her ears. It was useless; she wasn’t able to pick out where they needed to go next when everything else was so loud. She could only pray that her initial heading was correct, and that they would see far less fallen.

They had passed two other units so far. The first had been reduced to a pair of Lilhuns holding their stolen bonds in one arm while laying waste to everything in their sight through their tear-struck howls of rage, their faces of loss and ire illuminated by the unending strobe of their guns. Jean had to be physically picked up by Syrus to stop her from falling into shock when the pair was eviscerated by the deluge of retaliatory fire. The human became silent since then. Despondent. Her scent was like acid on the defect’s snout, eating and eroding flesh with every laboured breath. It smelled like everything she knew of their kind’s scent, yet nothing at the same time, setting her even more on edge. It was the smell of emotions abruptly cut short, the furless biped’s mind shutting down to leave naught but a cold shell.

It was eerily close to the scent of death.

The second group they encountered had successfully repelled a wave of forces pressuring them into retreat. Having suffered only a single loss, a recently unpaired human remained with their others instead of searching for vengeance like his bonded partner would have, though the dark expression and muted pheromones sowed unease within his allies. The unit joined Sunundra’s following and were assigned to carrying the weight of ammunition, addressing sustained wounds between baiting shots from ever-present snipers. No one complained about how long it took to tend to those who needed it; the lull bought time to prepare the next method of misleading their foe.

One of the furred males grabbed a cap from his bond and placed it over the barrel of his empty firearm, using the rifle to feign a cautious member of the group ‘peeking’ around the corner. The response was immediate. The garment was sacrificed to a single, lethally accurate kinetic that destroyed both bait and weapon in the process. The male discarded both and sprinted onward. The rest tore after him.

Open spaces passed by in a blur. Imposing superships loomed over them as they ran between storefront-sized blocks holding it aloft. They kept up the pace far longer than Sunundra could maintain, yet the pale-furred female kept running, choking down air when she could.

Despite the command to hold, a female Lilhun risked not waiting for another attempt to waste the sniper’s bullet and continued beyond the cover of the support blocks, taking a round to the chest in her haste. She tumbled, an attempt to get back to her feet ceased with a second shot that impacted the ground a moment before she fell limp. There was no time for mourning, nor for chastising the decisions of the deceased. The sacrifice had allowed them to continue safely, intentionally or not. The group swallowed their discomfort and ran, most pointedly not looking at the dead eyes watching kin abandon her corpse.

Sunundra, however, looked. She met the stare devoid of light as she passed. That one did not heed the orders of her betters. That one fell as a consequence. The pack leader returned her gaze to the next batch of cover, forever disregarding the result of insubordination. The small fragment of her soul holding Bill’s wish whimpered, muffled beneath the hardened shell formed to protect it. She was to save them, true, but they were to obey. It was not her responsibility to carry the weight of their stupidity.

The defect was the last to get behind the cover of a mostly disassembled transport, heavy steps bleeding off her momentum. The others had chosen to rest; some stood, others leaned against their protection, and a few simply sat down to nurse their wounds, purposely ignoring the distant cries of suffering.

“How much farther?” Syrus asked between laboured pants, Jean hidden within his embrace. The female’s shuddered breaths showed an attempt to collect herself—an effort apparently helped by the bonded one stroking her head.

A lighter-furred male catching his breath perked an ear. “I cannot hear them over the—”

A deafening explosion beyond their cover sent dust and detritus through the air.

“—combat,” he finished with a wince. “We should be near by now.”

“How close are the approaching forces?” another Lilhun questioned. “The sniper must be relaying our position, no? Why have we not been surrounded from all angles yet?”

“We are,” Sunundra corrected dryly, hiding her exhaustion and injuries by crossing her good arm over the limp one caught in her shirt. She gazed at the ground, almost fantasizing about how comfortable it would be to just lay down, though she bit back the dulled urge. If she stopped now, there would be no starting again. Her legs were leadened weights, her lungs burned, and her mind was clouded. Suns upon suns of high stress and endless activity had more than taken its toll. Any attempt to rest might prove to be her last.

Curious eyes looked to their leader for an explanation, reminding her yet again that these were civilians, not soldiers. She turned her attention to the maze of crafts beyond their hideaway.

“I suspect they have split our pack,” she elaborated tiredly. “There is no route to flee—the Union has ensured that—and what we have remaining is not enough to breach quarantine. We have been moving towards our escape, yet what of those who were farther away than ourselves? There has been no sign of them following us, and no firefights have chased us down. The enemy is separating us into easier to manage chunks and eliminating us through superior numbers.”

Silence washed over the gathered unit as she brought her disinterested stare back to them. Twenty faces of mixed species all wore defeat as their expression. A human male spoke up, pushing himself off the ground to stand. Blood and grit covered his angered, disbelieving scowl. “Then why haven’t we been cornered yet?”

The defect shook her head when an attempted shrug failed. “You deem us of greater importance than the others? Are we so identifiable to the hordes of the indiscriminate? No. They slaughter our kin as the opportunity arises—we have simply been fortunate enough to provide few. Perhaps our position in the middle of the spread allowed us greater freedom, or perhaps the enemy has concentrated their efforts on removing those who found themselves with less protection in the environment. Why we remain is immaterial; we merely are, and it is our duty to the departed to prove such an oversight to be the Union’s fatal mistake.”

She beckoned the group with a claw, ignoring the cowed alien’s odd expression of determination and uncertainty. “Rise. You all have rested enough. We must continue.”

Several opened their mouths to protest, but her glare stayed their words. They knew that every moment wasted on temporary respite was another moment risking permanent failure. Sunundra was aware of the massacre happening out of sight, no matter how much she wished she wasn’t. If they were split as heavily as she feared, then hundreds would have been reduced to half by now, and that said nothing of the units they circumvented or had yet to see.

She was saving far less than she desired, and that number was getting smaller and smaller…

A tentative nod was shared amongst the group, the few firearms they still had being checked and reloaded before someone went about luring another shot from the sniper.

A bullet cracked against the ground. They ran.

- - - - -

The beckoning from the unit who had found a suitable transport was finally audible over the cacophony of war. They yelled for their kin through hoarse desperation. It was close—an assumption supported by the report of gunfire transitioning from being diluted echos to its new snapping clarity. Still, Sunundra’s pack ran unimpeded by fear, every hurried stride bringing them towards their destination as they traveled between the slivers of shadow. There was no room for hesitation anymore; the enemy had finally begun closing in, and any lingering thoughts of staying in the safety of the ships’ protection was dashed by urgency.

Tall walls of space-faring constructs dwindled to nearly nothing as they broached a section dedicated to individual component repair. The broad space was free of towering transports or sturdy pillars to hide behind, yet it was filled by chaos. Distant ships framed the circular, artificial enclosure, only the upper halves visible over the mess of storage and tools. The space was occupied—no, consumed—by countless workstations and abandoned assemblies, several shelves of replacement parts already torn asunder by warfare. Terminal arrays, mechanical lifts, and large, boxy equipment lay scattered and haphazardly placed. Cables and panels offered nearly nothing in the way of sightlines, swallowing entire pathways with their nets of wiring—some of which sparked and swayed, cut by stray shots. Claustrophobic lanes were all they could actually see, and those told of an even worse labyrinth awaiting them.

Footsteps slowed while those in front of the unit visually scoured the edges for a path through—a mistake. They were not alone, and the enemy welcomed their group swiftly.

Both left and right became naught but flash and deafening din, streaks of light trailing superheated plasma screaming its way mere fractions from piercing her kin’s forms. Several of her pack shouted their suffering as crimson mist sprayed outward and the scent of seared flesh polluted the air. No one needed to encourage the pack to dive into the maelstrom of mechanical litter, though some were slower to do so than others—Sunundra included. She ignored the burn across her thighs and jumped over a table covered in tools and schematics, embracing the dim shade that swallowed her whole. A stumbled step and outstretched arm stopped her fall, pushing her back into a lopsided sprint to catch up to the others before she too was left behind. Flickers of fur beyond the veil of wiring was all she could see of her kin, and that was quickly lost amongst the nests of cables. Yet she persisted, the dryness in her throat making every heaving breath feel like she was inhaling shards of glass. At least it was safer within—

Something slammed into her back, sending her cascading over a crude, knee-high box, her form crashing to the floor. Bullets relentlessly punched through metal and synthetic compounds above her, saturating the area with promised demise. Shelves and equipment were perforated endlessly by unerring streams of projectiles. Splinters exploded into the air with every shot, pelting her with slivers that stuck and stung the skin. She managed to close an eye in time to avoid going blind, but the tiny fragments littering her fur needled exposed wounds.

The assault lasted only a moment before the maelstrom swept onwards to suppress other sections. The pale-furred female pulled herself to her knees, noticing that she had lost the others. She was alone, blood pouring down her face from lacerations on her scalp while the arc of gunfire likely shredded her pack inside the mess of shelves. The thoughts were quickly drowned out by blackness crawling through her veins. A familiar, sickeningly enticing Void cooed into her ears through whispers that knew no volume, yet said nothing at all. It only begged to be released once more. To feed.

She felt it tempt what remained of her consciousness, promising a momentary rest while it dealt with her troubles. It warned her of how it could force her to comply. It brought forth the flickers of memory—of the rapture on a red-soaked defect bearing crimson-stained teeth while their prey fell lifeless before them. It asked her if she would rather admit to having failed her bond, dedicating herself to enacting vengeance, or if she would cling to the increasingly doomed goal she had set for herself.

For the briefest of moments, Sunundra considered it.

Her hammering heart skipped and stuttered, each successful beat detonating in her chest to make up for those it missed. Her head grew light, her vision draining of all colour, and only the keening wail of a ruptured eardrum remained in one ear.

Had she already failed? Was it time to give up? Could she?

Outnumbered, outgunned, and hopelessly trapped, could she abandon the wish and surrender to the desire—the need to drink the ichor of her enemies who took her bond? All she had to do was accept her failure, and then she could ensure that all who had sinned against her were sent to the Void as mere playthings for the faithful. They would go, fearful and haunted by the image of a pale-furred monster savouring the taste of their flesh as life bled from their forms, and she could be the beast that smiled at their suffering. She could die as something more than a sad, desolate female who had lost their gift.

It would be so simple to forget what she was supposed to be…

“...ver…ere!”

Her arm was nigh useless, but she could rend and sever with just one. The other was a detriment, however, trapped within the cloth of her shirt. That would get in the way. She tugged at the wrist with her functional paw, aware of something pulling at the wound in her stomach, yet disregarding the phantom sting. An object fell into the limp limb’s grasp, but her attention moved to the continued static wail assaulting half of her hearing. Distance speech garbled and wavered—a distraction to be dealt with.

“...ean, we must leave!”

“..v…er…!”

She got to her feet, claws picking at the shell of her ear, returning with shards of…

She stared at what she held in her functional paw, confused by the sense of loss. Her translator lay on her pad, destroyed. Useless. It must have been damaged by shrapnel, rendering it to be little more than malfunctioning waste. The assumption proved true; a metal splinter had punched through almost the entire device, just barely stopping before it pierced her eardrum. She had removed what caused the noise, and her hearing was apparently still fine, so why did it hurt to see this tiny object laying so shattered?

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Ah, right. It was the first thing she accepted from Bill. It was what allowed her to speak with him.

Now…it was gone. Just like him…

The dulled sensation of something else in her other paw reminded her of the previously ignored curiosity. It was a red-soaked cylinder, a small fuse protruding from the top.

‘You’re a kind person, miss.’ ‘Well, you’re my Sunshine.’ ‘I can’t…save you. I can’t…help the others.’

Sunundra blinked, surprised by the suddenly blurred vision. She was about to give up, wasn’t she? She did give up, but his words shed light upon her darkness. Even now, he reminded her of what she had suffered for. Of what she still suffered to achieve.

No. He reminded her what she will achieve, no matter how small. No matter how pathetic she became, no matter how little she was, and no matter how far she would need to go, she would fulfill his wish.

A sudden paw grabbed her arm, almost hauling her off her feet. Sunundra stumbled, blinking through her surprise and the pulse of adrenaline when she noticed Jean yelling at her in that unintelligible human language as she was pulled along. The alien female sported her own cuts and dirtied clothing, but unlike the horified visage of before, she glowered at the defect with a gaze of sheer determination while navigating further into the maze of shelving.

“Just leave her!” a deeper voice shouted. Sunundra glanced at the source. Syrus stood amongst discarded toolboxes, seeming none too pleased with his bond’s actions, a paw resting on his pistol. Jean barked something in reply and continued past him hurriedly. Whatever was said was enough to bring conflict to the male’s expression. He searched the pale-furred female with his gaze when he caught up, his eyes flicking to her ear. “Her translator is missing.”

His bond slowed, finally letting go of the defect’s paw. Her speech prompted him to close his eyes and let out a frustrated huff before addressing his pack leader with irritation in his tone. “We located the ship, high one, but we required a distraction to cross a vacant stretch to reach it. Several have volunteered.”

“Yet you remain?” Sunundra asked distractedly, steadying herself when Jean released her. Something was missing, but she hadn’t the chance to dwell on it before Syrus’ glower returned.

“It seems my bond values your life enough to risk her own in ensuring you were given a chance to escape as well.” He ignored his human’s indignant reply. “Thus we are here, delaying the others while we waste time.”

“Then we must return,” she countered, not bothering to start an argument. Her thoughts were occupied by the drips of dread pooling in the back of her subconscious. What was wrong? What was absent? Her arm was slack, but with them being so close to their goal, appearances could afford to tarnish somewhat. Besides, as long as she still had—

Her breath hitched as she turned towards whence they came. The firecracker.

Her paws were empty. She didn’t put it back where it belonged. Where was it? When did she lose it? How?

…Jean. Jean had grabbed just above her wrist, and Sunundra dropped the keepsake without noticing, too surprised to process the absence of something so important. She left it behind.

Her hope of returning to what Bill was so fond of. Her hope of being his Sunshine once more. Her hope of not succumbing to the Void. It was gone. Abandoned. She had to go get it. She had to hold it again. Her instincts all but begged for the crimson-stained explosive to be returned to her. To its resting place, protected by her very flesh and blood. To be kept where no other could sully what it stood for. She felt cold without it. Distressed. Empty. It was wrong to be away from it. She needed it. She needed to have it close. She needed—

Another paw gripped her shoulder and roughly pulled her back before she could leave to retrieve the physical manifestation of the promise she made to herself.

“Release me!”

“We must go,” Syrus growled, tugging her off balance and forcing her onward. She tried to resist, but she was too weak. Too hurt. Her form was pushed too far to fight the male. Not without surrendering to becoming the thing which relished violence and would put an end to what she held dear. She had no choice but to suppress the tears of futility as she was led farther and farther away from her last memento of her bond.

Jean assisted when she noticed strength drain from the defect’s limbs, placing an arm around Sunundra’s back to ease the strain of stumbled steps. The act was done in good faith, but all she felt was yet another barrier placed between herself and the last thing remaining of the one she loved.

- - - - -

The lull in violence did little to ease their nerves, yet the pale-furred female’s thoughts remained clouded. It didn’t matter now. She felt vacant. Wrong. She eventually regained enough energy to walk on her own, though it took a light tug to have Jean allow it. Syrus released her when he was sure she wouldn’t charge back into the mess of wires, and she made no attempt to. There was no point in going back now; she didn’t know where the firecracker had fallen, and Bill would be disappointed with her if she abandoned the others for a single object. Not when they were so close.

They regrouped with the others who intended to rush towards their goal, just barely ten in number. Truthfully, she only heard how a few of the broken were to draw the enemy’s attention elsewhere in the maze, freeing time for the rest to flee with their bonds—a pragmatic course of action, if disliked by some. She just nodded at the request for her approval. A few humans begged for her to stop them, but they accepted when she spoke, her own voice uttering words she didn’t recall forming. Something else kept her moving, talking, and commanding…

She was wondering what the point was, uncaring of if it was actually her piloting her body anymore—as long as what needed to be done was done, then the how was of little importance.

If anyone noticed a difference in her demeanor, then they failed to act on it. The remaining pack moved to their assigned positions and waited for the signal, spurred on by a faux defective barking orders. Sunundra barely tried to keep track of what was happening, every blink transporting her somewhere else within the chaotic confines of the maintenance area, some part of her remaining at the reins of consciousness while the rest fell quiet.

Combat initiated elsewhere. The air above gained more streaks of plasma and cries of suffering, some belonging to the enemy. That was enough to elicit action amongst those in wait, the group sprinting out from the shelving and into empty space towards the safety of ships. Of course, Sunundra’s injuries had only worsened over time, and blood loss had worn her down to the point that she would fall behind once again. And she would have, had Jean not insisted on having Syrus assist. Both of them all but carried her forward.

They were about half way through the open area when a tan-furred male peeked around the edge of a craft with a weapon trained on them, only to lower it once they saw who was approaching. He shouted out for unseen kin to open something, a rapid exchange being followed by a loud hiss, then a ramp being lowered into a recess along the clearing. The new one’s voice pierced Sunundra’s daze enough for her to regain lucidity.

“Hurry!”

Syrus slowed in tandem with his bond, his glare of confusion mixing with irritation as he once again released his pack leader to walk forward. “This is what you summoned us to? You were told to acquire a larger ship.”

The other Lilhun growled, jabbing a claw at the modest shuttle. “You are more than aware of what happened to the rest of us! We did find a larger transport, yet it was overrun as soon as the fight started. You should be thankful we located something else! Now, get inside. Quickly! We are attempting to bypass the console lock on the cockpit, and the moment that we succeed, we leave—with or without you.”

“You cannot—”

“—I have done enough,” he snarled, taking a step closer to the dark-furred male, his grip on the firearm tightening. He gestured towards the pitifully small collection of souls that had managed to make it to their method of escape. “You have no right to criticize me when this is all you bring. I did my duty and called out to our kin, then did so again out of kindness—something that is becoming ruinously difficult to supply. We have bled enough as it is. We have lost enough as it is. We need not welcome the Void while awaiting those who have already departed. If you do not get in the shuttle, you are welcome to find another for yourself, where you may gleefully join those who will never come.”

Jean started to speak up with vitriol in her throat, and Syrus seemed prepared to pull out his pistol, but neither could act before a human female appeared at the top of the shuttle’s ramp, a light pant colouring her speech. The new one gestured at a panel next to the entrance on the hull a few times before jogging back inside.

“The lock requires an override,” Syrus translated through a growl, rubbing a rib his bond had prodded none too gently. He gave a sharp nod towards the panel that the other human seemed frustrated with. “The internal system is apparently reliant on that, but none of their members are able to bypass it.”

A questioning glance at the others proved that their group’s arrival had yet to change that fact.

The dark-furred male huffed. “Are you able to destroy it?” he spit between clenched teeth, keeping his attention on the tan-furred male while begrudgingly addressing the pack leader.

The defect shrugged off her backpack after a sluggish moment’s thought, wondering if she had enough loose compounds for a simple acid or the like. The bag was still mostly empty; she had lone drops and grains of chemicals, but not enough to make anything useful. A shuffling paw scoured the contents in case something had escaped her notice, the process brought to an abrupt halt when Recon’s drone thumped against the ground. Its shell was cracked and mangled, a deep crater carved into the chassis, rendering the majority of it inert. Her brow creased in confusion until she remembered being hit in the back while amongst the shelving and wires—a hit that her backpack took the brunt of.

So she was shot then, just…protected… Protected by a gift created to convey her sincerity to one who wished nothing of it, then held by the pitiful female who was too terrified to accept that none would care for her. Sunundra eyed the monocopter before hesitating, her paw having stretched to retrieve it without her permission. She reeled the errant appendage back in, grabbing her bag and making her way over to the panel, ignoring the unease caused by abandoning the possession. The drone’s payload was destroyed, and thus it was useless to her now. She couldn’t salvage it to solve their current issue, but she could still take a look at the source, if nothing else.

The others who had arrived with them took her actions as permission to enter the craft, passing by as they took shelter. Syrus stayed on the ground, just barely maintaining peace with the other male. He placed himself between Jean and the equipped firearm while the former cautiously asked questions, likely unsure of why they had remained outside. Sunundra ignored the tense atmosphere, dropping the backpack at the top of the ramp as she eyed the interface that was causing so much trouble.

Any attempt to interact with the panel resulted in the display showing a strange symbol and garbled alien text. The combination seemed strangely familiar, yet the pale-furred female struggled to recall when she had seen it. Still, the sensation persisted, insisting that it was something she had encountered before, no matter how briefly. The oddity was set to simmer in the back of her mind as she went about examining the problem at paw.

She poked, prodded, and felt along the edges for a way to tamper with the installation while the sounds of weapons fire reverberated out from the chaos they had fled. Every passing breath was but one breath less before the enemy discovered that they were chasing those already destined for the Void. Then, it would be little time at all before their attention was directed towards the shuttle. Sacrifice or no, there was only so much the broken could sustain before succumbing, and she wished not to waste their efforts. She had lost her bond, her keepsake, and now, the representation of a foolish fascination she called ‘love.’ What she would not lose, however, was her chance to fulfill his wish.

The panel flashed yet another red symbol of refusal from her attempts, a frustrated fist thumping against it. Where had she seen it? When? The stress caused her to tense, pulling at the torn muscles throughout her form, a trickle of coaxed crimson seeping into the fur of her stomach. The sting should have been distracting, yet all she thought of it was that her most secure storage had been foiled by a shoddy attempt to keep her limp arm out of the way. Now, all she had was…the odd…

The memory clicked into place, hazy and indistinct after so many suns spent constantly active. The symbol was on the very first maintenance tunnel she encountered—a denial for entrance, as she was yet to acquire Greg’s terminal. Of course she forgot it; every path had been open to her since, and there was no reason to use anything besides what worked. Her paw moved quickly, piercing her wound and retrieving the oddly shaped device, then placing its blood-stained surface to the access panel.

The panel beeped, its display turning green.

A human calling out from inside urged action, the tan-furred male perking an ear, then barking for Syrus and Jean to make up their minds before sprinting up the ramp. Sunundra felt the wisp of a smile form as success was but moments away. It was far smaller than she intended, and by far narrower margins than was commendable, yet it was a success all the same. It was a defect completing a portion of her departed bond’s deepest desire. It was something, which was more than she had ever achieved before.

The pale-furred female hissed as she put the terminal back where it belonged, stepping back on unsteady legs to grab her bag. She glanced down at the drone at the bottom of the ramp—the last connection she had to a time before she learned the joy of love. A time before her name was said fondly, and before she had become someone’s Sunshine. A time before she became a beast consumed by bloodlust, no matter how briefly.

A time before she found out how much worse living could be.

Jean’s cry snapped the defect from her thoughts, a blink clearing the haze and revealing the human—

Sunundra was plowed over by the tackle, both Syrus’ bond and herself sent crashing to the floor inside the shuttle. Her muscles screamed their muted agony, yet those bellows of torture paled in comparison to the dark-furred male. He appeared in a blur, the briefest fraction of clarity painting his rushing visage as one of terror. He all but ripped Jean from atop the diminutive defect, shouting to be directed towards the medical bay, then bolted into the bowels of the ship without waiting for an answer. She hadn’t a chance to process what had happened before the ramp to the ship slammed shut with alarming speed, yet the closed entrance revealed enough.

Blood had been sprayed across the ramp where she had been standing moments before. She looked down at herself, seeing her clothing and fur matted by copious amounts of foreign ichor, and a single furrow torn into her shirt, passing through the pocket she kept the navigational terminal. A pool of red had formed next to her in the short time she was pinned beneath Jean, and large splotches followed along the path Syrus had fled, painting a gruesome outcome.

She got to her feet in a daze, only marginally aware of the inertia changing as the shuttle took to the air in search of an exit. A faint scuffing sound followed her through the confined corridors as she dragged her backpack by a strap, her mind rejecting the details of her surroundings. They didn’t matter; she simply followed the heavy spills of crimson and replayed what caused them again and again, every repetition rejected then parsed once more.

A sniper. There was no flash, nor crack of kinetic to alert them. No, she wouldn’t have noticed anyway; she was preoccupied with other thoughts. Which meant Jean had noticed something, then acted to save a defect by pushing her out of the way, the alien female using her own body as a shield in the process. It was a simple chain of events, yet it was discarded and reevaluated. Again. Then again. No matter how many times she tried, she couldn’t answer the one question she truly had.

Why? Why not allow Sunundra to fall, then use the lull to secure the safety of the others? Why take the risk? Because she was the pack’s leader? That was a position she had gained by effectively threatening to slaughter all who dissent, treating the insubordinate as but casualties to their own failures. She had done nothing to endear herself to her kin. What would have been the point? The moment that they arrived on Iras, all would be forgotten, and they would go back to their lives with their bonds, leaving her alone yet again. So, why?

She slowed her pace in the middle of an indistinct hall, stopping to stand before a dark-furred male sitting on the floor. His bond had been placed atop his lap to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping around her like an iron cage. Soft, shuddering sobs shook him. His ear turned towards the intruder, yet he didn’t speak, instead choosing to quietly cradle his other half. There was no need to ask—the scent alone confirmed her suspicions.

Jean didn’t make it.

Sunundra stood there, watching yet another of her kin learn the horrors of being broken. Yet it was worse for him, she supposed. The others had been given a clear enemy to exact penance from, but Syrus was aboard a shuttle leaving any he could seek far behind. He could only swim in the shattered shards as they sliced and gouged his soul until there was nothing left to cut.

She opened her muzzle, a feeling of sympathy drying her throat. “I apol—”

“—DO. NOT,” the male roared, sorrow cracking his voice. A choked breath settled his volume to a whisper. “Do not discredit her deed with your words. Do not speak as if she was wrong to act—as if she had made a mistake. She wished to aid one who had unjustly suffered… To save someone who sought to save many… Please…do not…”

The defect fell silent, offering only a nod.

Neither of them so much as flinched when the alarms sounded, neither moved when the speakers blared a warning of an anti-air battery acquiring them as a target, and neither listened to the weeping coming through the microphone that had been left active while those in the cockpit lamented how close they were to surviving.

Sunundra simply stared at the third person in her life to show her true kindness. Dead.

Someone decided to read the countdown to collision aloud, filling the ship with an exact idea of how long they had left. Like everyone else, they had given up, yet wanted the others to spend their final moments with their bonds and loved ones.

Six.

Syrus finally looked up at her as the numbers continued to fall, his gaze slipping past her, contorting his expression from despondent to bitter. Gingerly, he slipped his bond from his lap, carefully seating her against the wall to show the mess of soiled fabric that covered the wound in her chest. The pale-furred female blankly watched as he stood, scowling at her with a visage shimmering with reddened fluid. He reached out, gripping her throat and lifting her as he had done before, but there was no anger left in his eyes, only mourning. She let it happen.

Five.

He slammed her into the opposite wall, punching next to her head with enough force for her to hear his bones break against the metal, yet he didn’t so much as wince. Suddenly, the wall behind her was gone.

Four.

The male leaned in, burrowing into her breathless face with his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “Do not waste her efforts.”

Three.

She was thrown backwards before she could question it, crashing against a new solid surface, her backpack hitting her stomach a fraction after. A barrier of transparent material snapped down, containing her within a strange confinement. An emergency escape shuttle? Syrus returned to his bond, placing her back in his lap and curling around the human female as much as he could.

Two.

The muffled countdown continued. A hiss drowned out the sounds of futility. Her stomach was pulled into her throat, the tiny cell she was trapped within now firing away from the shuttle at speed.

One.

Sunundra watched a barrage of missiles impact and disintegrate the ship, leaving naught but shards and smoke in its wake. It was only the dull sting in her abdomen that reminded her of her bag—or more accurately, the makeshift controller for Recon’s drone that stuck out of the pouch. Her claw flicked the switch, then depressed the detonator, wondering if the components required had survived. They did, and she upheld her words to the security guard who assisted her.

She spotted the first plume of smoke instantly. It quickly became two, then four, then a single, unforgiving fireball that swallowed a massive area, the drone relaying the signal to every charge she had placed during her restless task to find her bond.

She had nothing now—no pack to return to, no love to cherish, no Sunshine to be…not even the knowledge that she had fulfilled a part of his wish. She merely bore witness to her explosives killing an untold number of others, just as she never wanted.

A single word came to mind as the shrinking landscape became a voracious flame, though there was no one else to say it with her, nor was there the surge of youthful glee to lose herself in. It slipped from her lips in the strange, alien tongue, an echo of Bill’s elation diffusing throughout the emergency escape craft’s tiny interior—a final reminder of what she had for such a short time, and what she will never have again.

“...Boom.”