This was, by her count, the 22nd planet they'd consumed, the 22nd she'd escaped just in time, the 22nd corporate acquisition she'd had the displeasure of being stuck in the middle of.  She knew what would happen already, the skies blackening, the ground eaten and torn apart, the plants culled one after the other. This time, she resolved, she wouldn't run. There was no chance at victory, so the only likely outcome was death. Better than doing nothing, she supposed. If only by a little bit.