Chapter 82: The Cold of Outer Space, the Warm Embrace of Death, Part 4

They had a plan.

Well, it was more of a starting point than a plan, but it was still the best they had, considering that the only alternative considered by the government was to spread out across other universes using the portal machines. Simply prolonging the inevitable.

He wouldn't even care if it could work, but those in favor of that plan weren't speaking with the voice of reason, but of desperation.

It was nothing more than a childish hope.

That being wasn't just devouring physical things, but immaterial ones as well. He couldn't be one hundred percent certain (although, come to think of it, what could he be one hundred percent certain about?), but Sylvester believed they would die with their universe when it was devoured, regardless of where they were at that moment. If annihilation were so easy to avoid, they wouldn't have even bothered to go so far.

They wouldn't have provided the tool to avoid it.

Humans had to believe in something, because if they lowered their defenses and looked at the horrible face of truth, they could only sit waiting for the end, drowned by the desperation that prevented them from breathing properly like a shroud. He understood it perfectly. No one wanted to understand the truth that their fate was not in their hands.

But that no longer mattered, because they did have an alternative.

And if it fails, Sylvester thought, at least I won't live to see it. We won't live.

He corrected himself because Heather, as usual, accompanied him as if she were his own shadow. As if they were one person.

As he liked it.

Sylvester had felt the urge to fly to take a look at how things were going, and Heather had offered to accompany him, despite having just returned from a trip with the same purpose. He didn't reject her offer. He didn't even think about doing so.

Seeing that being advancing. The devastation, the holes in space. These things hadn't changed anything in his heart. They had shattered him, thinking about all that had been lost, but they didn't tell him anything he didn't already know. They didn't help him reach any decision or determination.

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But he felt it had been important to come here to contemplate it, anyway. One last look at everything he was fighting for.

At this rate, even if they won, they wouldn't have much world left to celebrate in; they would have to spread throughout the universe anyway. Colonize uninhabited planets, build settlements, a network of portals so that humanity could remain united and strong. Many things.

But it was something for the future, and he didn't really care. As long as humanity survived, he felt he could accept any kind of ending. It was his happy ending, the best they could hope for, anyway.

It was selfish, but much better to die crying and lamenting than to die with nobility and ideals in one's mouth.

Sylvester smiled. Besides, he liked being a damn selfish bastard. He didn't have to be a hero. That was for crazy people. Among whom he counted himself, but less crazy than a few months ago, that was for sure.

"What's wrong?" Heather asked.

"Nothing, just my nonsense. And..."

"Come on, spit it out. What are you embarrassed about? It's not like you."

"No man could say it calmly. Not to someone he really cares about, in any case." Sylvester looked away, blushing, then told himself he didn't have the balls and forced himself to look her in the eyes. He wasn't even doing anything. Not yet, because he had thought better of it. And he knew it wasn't a risk. There was no reason to feel nervous. "I was thinking of asking you to marry me. I mean, right now."

"Oh. I see."

Heather wasn't capable of blushing, or at least he had never seen her do it, but she looked away in the same way he had done. She looked as if she was too embarrassed to look at him, but at the same time burning with desire to do so.

"But I don't want it to seem like I'm preparing things before dying, tying up all the loose ends, just to be sure. Let's leave it for when we finish this. For when we win. We won't die. That is, if you want to marry me."

"Of course I want to, silly. And of course we won't die." Heather nodded. "No one will be able to stop us as long as we stay together."

He hoped that was true.

He shook her hand as if signing a contract.

A part of him couldn't help but think: of course she wants me. I'm one of the three people she really knows, and probably the only man on Earth who would give her a chance. He was twisted as usual, so he couldn't help but think that way. But deep down, he believed it was real love. In the bottom of his heart. Without reason or justification. He believed that even if he traveled the world looking for true love, he would eventually return to her arms.

Of course, the same went for him.

As cheesy as it was, he felt he had been born in this world to meet her.

Sylvester took her hand, their fingers intertwined, squeezing tightly.

"Let's go. We have work to do."

They resumed their flight back to the base.

To Jonathan, and the portal machine.

To the last mission of their lives, whether they lived or died.

The Cold of Outer Space, the Warm Embrace of Death, Part 4: END