Logus felt a stitch in his side as he ran, but he didn’t want to stop.

He’d been searching for Apollonia for, it seemed, twenty minutes.

So far, there had been nothing but dead ends – and he had little to go on. Despite his degree, he wasn’t a wizard who could predict all facets of human behavior.

Especially for someone who had always refused to talk to him.

Christ, he hoped she wouldn’t pull that now. What a terrible choice he was for this, yet he had to try, he was the only reasonable choice.

“Show all people who Apollonia Nor has had a conversation lasting more than one minute . . . over the last six months,” he wheezed to his system.

He gave his doctor’s authorization for such a grievous violation of her privacy, and saw a list. It was surprisingly long, and he had to narrow it. “Longer than five minutes!” he said. “Include data from off the ship if possible! Sort by duration and level of perceived intimacy.”

The system worked a little longer. Telling it to guess at intimacy level was a shot in the dark, but the system should be able to make a guess, and all he needed was a clue.

The list popped up, and he saw now; after Dr. Y and Captain Brooks . . . He That Squats on Yellow Sand.

She had a knack for making alien friends, didn’t she?

He tracked down the Abmon, finding that he was, currently in one of the armories.

Which wasn’t far from the bunker Apollonia had left her tablet in.

The system indicated her going there was unlikely; the armory would not, after all, open up to let civilians in.

But that didn’t mean Apollonia wouldn’t try.

His system charted him the fastest route, and he tried to increase his speed.

“Armorer!” he messaged ahead. “This is Dr. Arn Logus, prepare to open armory doors on my signal! Override code . . .” He sent it.

“Acknowledged, Doctor,” the Abmon came back. “This is a very strange request, though . . .”

“Just be ready to open the bloody doors!” he said.

The hall he was in was a very gentle curve along the inner hull, and he knew it wasn’t much further. Coming to a junction, he skidded around the corner-

And Apollonia was standing not ten feet away.

She whipped around to look at him, eyes wide, and he let out a gasp of relief.

“Apollonia!” he said. “Come with me, immediately!”

“What? What are you doing here?!” she asked.

“I came to find you – we have to get you to the armory-“

“I was heading to the armory,” she said, their words jumbling over each other. They paused.

“Move,” he said.

“Is that the right way? I got lost!” she said.

“Yes, it’s right-“

His system blared a warning as they turned into the short, defensible hall that led to the Armory door. Aside from that feature, it was unmarked to anyone not connected to the Craton’s system.

But something was moving behind them, and it was not a part of the crew.

Shoving Apollonia ahead of himself, he caught the barest glimpse as he moved past the corner.

An enemy drone.

It fired, and he felt something sting on his temple.

“Open doors!” he barked.

Apollonia fell through, and he jumped in.

The door slammed shut just behind him – and he heard the sound of more shots hit the reinforced metal.

He That Squats on Yellow Sand was towering over him, leaning his heavy body over to peer at him on the floor.

“That was close,” the Abmon said. “Sorry – the doors closed on their own when they sensed the hostile drone. You’re . . . actually pretty lucky it didn’t get you. The door or the drone.”

Logus put a hand on the side of his face, feeling the blood. “I . . . I think it did,” he said softly.

The Abmon rattled. “Even I can tell that’s a scratch, Doctor! You just had a close call!”

He was quickly realizing that Squats on Sand was right.

“Second close call today,” he said, his neck hurting even more now.

“Let’s hope you don’t have a third!” the Abmon replied, tromping up to the door, eyeing it and him and Apollonia all at once.

“Are you okay?” Logus asked Apollonia. She had moved away, watching him with wide eyes.

She nodded, saying nothing.

“They’re outside,” Squats on Sand said. “But don’t worry, unless they have something really big, they can’t get through this door.”

A screen turned on, and the Abmon trundled over to it, but it only showed an error text.

“They’re knocking out the cameras,” he grumbled. “So I guess they’re really going to want in. Let’s see if . . . ah, they missed one!”

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An image appeared. It showed a group of Hev espatiers and their drones. They were setting up just outside the doors to the armory.

----------------------------------------

The camera view wasn’t a good one, but it showed enough, Apollonia thought. The Hev were armed to the teeth.

“Did I . . . lead them here?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Logus looked at her, and the memory of that old, irrational fear of him rose inside her – but she wasn’t sure what she felt at the moment, not from him. It wasn’t fear.

The man was smiling reassuringly. “No, Ms. Nor. They were headed here already, I’m sure. An Armory is an important place on a ship, and if they were to set charges in here . . .”

“A lot of vital assets gone,” Squats on Sand said. “Weapons and munitions we could have used against them. And the boom it’d make . . .” His sections all rotated, his tentacles flailing. “It’s about the most damage they could hope to do to the ship, outside of attacking the bridge, a reactor, or the coilguns. Yep, we’re an obvious target.”

He focused his eyes on her. “Why did you come here, though? I thought you were in a Volunteer unit!”

“I, uh . . . I wasn’t able to make it to my team,” she lied through dry lips. “And then I got locked out of a bunker and then I remembered you worked here . . .”

“Ah, that’s a pity! You could be out there in the excitement, but I’m afraid you’re in for a boring time. They’re not going to break through these doors!” Squats on Sand said confidently. His tentacles were operating a panel, though, and he seemed to deflate slightly.

“Though . . . I can’t seem to contact any other part of the ship. I don’t know how they could have interrupted that . . .”

“The Fesha,” Logus said, the thought popping into his mind. “We believe they were selling arms and equipment to the P’G’Maig. This might be some of that.”

Squats on Sand was quiet for several long moments. “In that case, it’s slightly alarming,” he admitted. Then, quickly, he added; “But don’t worry yourselves too much!”

Apollonia didn’t find it very comforting.

Logus slid up next to her, and she leaned away.

He clearly noticed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you don’t like to speak with me, but I have to ask again; are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

“Why didn’t you meet your Volunteer team?” he asked. “We saw that you disappeared after leaving your bunker – we feared you were hurt!”

“I . . .” She was struggling to talk. “I got scared,” she admitted.

The shame punched her in the gut again, and she pulled her knees up to her chin, burying her head.

Logus said nothing for a long moment.

“That’s very natural,” he told her.

She didn’t raise her head. “I’m a coward.”

He reached up, slowly, and put a hand on her shoulder. “You aren’t a coward, Apollonia. Fear is a perfectly normal and rational response, and . . . you are going through one of the toughest transitions a person can possibly make.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You aren’t a coward like me.” She looked up at him, and he saw the tears streaking down her face. “You really came out to find me, during all this?”

Logus was caught off-guard by the question. “Ah, yes,” he said. “I did. Because it was my duty, and-“

“I failed my duty,” she said.

He swallowed. “No one knows how they will react when they first face action,” he told her. “The bravest can turn to cowards, and the meekest turn to killers. That you found out you could not face the dangers you thought you could . . . I can no more judge you for it than I can judge anyone else. But you have learned something about yourself, and in time you will be able to look at it dispassionately, and know yourself better.”

She laughed. “I know I puke in space suits,” she told him.

He laughed. “As do I.”

She turned to face him, her eyes meeting his. “I never hated you, you know.”

“Ah, well that’s good to know-” he began.

“I had a reason for not talking to you.”

“You’ve said before. But Apollonia, you don’t have to go into it now-“

But she felt like she did. Her eyes became more intense, and Logus felt the back of his neck tingle.

“I see too much, sometimes,” she said. “I never thought you were a bad person, but I saw . . . I just knew . . . If I spoke to you, it would lead me – somehow – down a path I couldn’t go.”

There were many meanings he could take from her words, but something about them chilled him. Whatever she spoke of, he could see, it terrified her.

“I saw blood and death,” she breathed. “I saw an ocean of blood, the stars turned crimson with it, and death on a scale that I . . . I can’t even . . .”

She turned away.

And though Logus had met people who were delusional before, people who believed that they were dead historical persons reincarnated, or that they were the only real person in the universe, never before had he believed they spoke the truth.

Until now.

“We have to tell this to the Captain,” he told her softly. “Do you . . . see this path coming as a result of our talking now?”

“No,” she admitted. “I don’t know why, but I realized just now when we got in here that I didn’t feel the creeping dread like every other time. And I . . . I had to say it while I could. Just in case-“

Logus had been absently rubbing his neck as she talked, but she was cut off, as He That Squats on Yellow Sand spoke.

His voice, usually so genial in his rumbling way, had taken on a note of perfect calmness and seriousness.

“Get down.”

Apollonia threw herself to the floor, off to the side. But Logus did not have her reactions; instead of obeying, confusion went over his face, and his eyes went to the screen, to see what the Abmon was speaking of.

There was a terrible sound and things flew through the door.

A weapon of some kind had been discharged, something designed to breach the heaviest armor. There were multiple projectiles, and they tore through it at critical contact points – through it, and beyond.

Through Logus, and beyond.

The man’s face was still caught in shock as he realized that it was not simply his entire arm gone – but most of his right shoulder.

And jaw.

Apollonia realized she was screaming.

Logus tried to speak, but only a spitting sound came out, and he began to fall away from the wall that his blood had painted red.

“GET HELP!” she was screaming, though she hadn’t even thought about the words.

She looked up, and saw that the door was now starting to fall inward, slowly, the door-breaching weapon having worked perfectly.

But Squats on Sand was rushing as fast as he could to catch it. His tentacles grabbed the massive slab, and pushed. His stout legs dug into the deck, claws grinding against metal.

“I’ll hold it!” he roared.

He stopped the door from falling; and began to push it back.

He roared out triumphantly. “I can hold it!” he shouted.

Apollonia looked down at Logus. He had fallen into her lap, his eyes gazing at her in shock.

Blood was everywhere. “Medical drone!” she called out, hoping one of her words would trigger some kind of system. There had to be a medical drone in here, right?

Right?

“Emergency!” she screamed.

Then the weapon outside fired again.

Despite his armored body, they went through Squats on Sand as easily as they had the door. Yellowish-orange blood splattered out of him in great gouts.

He still held the door.

They fired again. Part of Squats on Sand’s main body was blasted off. But he didn’t drop the door.

But his legs began to give way.

“I’ll . . . hold it . . .” he said, his voice quiet.

A light seemed to fade from his eyes, and he fell. His body still propped against the door.

She heard pounding on it, the Hev outside now trying to force it the rest of the way. Though it was tilted inwards now, Squats on Sand’s body still blocked it, still held it.

But they’d force it eventually. They’d manage to push his body back, or fire their fucking giant weapon until they’d shredded so much of the door that it would break apart.

And then, or perhaps even before then, she’d be dead. She knew why, now, she hadn’t seen any danger in talking to Logus.

She’d been a coward. But she didn’t have to die like one, at least. And now that it was here, she remembered the feeling she’d had on New Vitriol, when she’d felt sure she was going to be executed.

That this was a good thing. That, for her, it would be an escape from powerlessness, and an evasion of something far more terrible.

She screamed again, curses and slander, every terrible thing she could muster at the P’G’Maig. They would pay, if not now, then someday.

Some . . . day . . .

The room swam, consciousness not so much slipping as being taken from her by something big, something powerful.

Something that was a part of her. And she had the realization that they would not pay someday. They would pay now.

Because something had woken up inside her.

All went red.