It was nearly two days later before Saedah could climb out of the ravine. That crazy man had ejected Saedah's seat! He'd narrowly avoided crashing into the cliff, strapped to the infernal thing! As it was, that narrow passage had emptied out into a very deep cavern. The landing had not been pleasant.

He was sore, hungry, thirsty, and tired. He had been baked by the heat, frozen by the cold, and never comfortable. Between the sun and windburn, his skin was red and sore, blistered and peeling, and altogether a new flavor of hell. His shoes had been sliced and torn on jagged rocks so frequently that his feet were "covered" with more torn cloth than shoe.

There was only one consolation; Hans had shown up that first night in the ravine. There was no sign of Bansi, and Hans wouldn't have left her alive. That was the nature of the Jaguars; they mated for life and were fiercely loyal to their mates. So while the wind howled through the ravine, the two huddled together. Saedah could only pray that he wouldn't die before he could get the data to his family.

As the second day started, he could only imagine what Nyx had been put through. He feared what they would do to all of them; if they were alive. He honestly hoped they'd all been killed quickly. Nyx, Nala, and Troache. He prayed for a merciful death for them, as the alternatives were far worse than living.

As he prayed, though, he knew he didn't really want them dead. It made him feel like a selfish bastard, and a bit heretical to pray for one thing, but hope for another. Somewhere along the line, he had grown to actually like Nyx, and by some miracle, he'd grown to like Troache as well. Even Nalah's twisted naivete was refreshing.

He knew where they'd be taken. That's where he was headed, to do what he could for them. But it was so hard to keep going.

The hours wore on. Saedah had to find a place where he could climb from the ravine. Hans stayed close, chasing at shadows for even the nutrition of a mouse or lizard. While Hans trot back and forth, Saedah fought with himself, thinking about his duty to the people. And his duty to Nyx. His duty to Nala. His duty to Troache.

That was his fight.

He found he was at a moral crossroads, with no way to turn back. His entire life had been devoted to the people. To paving the way for a greater future. At the crossroad, he found he was weighing the people against the three friends facing certain death.

For the umpteenth time in the last hour, he reached down and felt the drives in his pocket. He could save hundreds of thousands of lives, hundreds of times over with just those six drives. He knew what he should do, but he also knew what he wanted to do. The two were not the same. He had to make a decision. He should turn his back on Phaenna and do what was best for the future. Three people weren't worth the suffering of thousands.

He stumbled on, finally spotting a place where the top of the ravine was less than twenty feet high. The ravine wall was ragged, with shards of sharp rock exposed. The wind here had not had a chance to wear away the damage left by the last flood. At least it left plenty of hand and foot holds.

The cloth wrappings on his feet failed quickly on his climb out, shredding on the sharp rocks that gouged his already blistered feet. When he finally reached the sun-baked surface, he could only curl on his side and scream. The scream was bottled emotion finally bursting free. It was anger and it was hunger. It was pain and it was thirst. It was loathing and it was all-consuming, painful emptiness. He wasn't sure if it was all aimed at himself or any one particular person, but it was all aimed at the universe and his rotten life as a whole.

Some time later, when his screams were little more than hoarse moans, Hans nuzzled him. The cat rubbed his head along Saedah's metal arm and pushed. It seemed the cat wanted Saedah to move.

"You want me to move?" Saedah's voice was flat and empty. "Ok. Let's go."

I might as well die on my feet, he thought bitterly. It took several tries to get himself vertical. It felt so much better to be on his hands and knees, but that was far too close to laying down and giving up. His legs shook violently, each step nearly sending him back to the hard, caked dirt.

Saedah stumbled across the sun scorched earth, feeling blood flow from his torn feet to squish between his toes and mix with sand. Even after tearing strips from his robe to wrap the tender flesh, his feet still screamed. It provided virtually no padding. His pants were cut and bloody, and his shirt was rags... literally.

The thin material had been sacrificed for dressings on his arm and legs. The robe hung open, exposing his bare chest. The wrapping on his head was crooked and partially unraveled. The metal of his left arm gleamed openly in the sunlight, seeming to draw in the heat and spreading it to the nearby flesh.

As his energy drained, he found a rock bluff that provided just enough shade to take refuge for a few hours. When he opened his eyes again, it was to a dull haze on the horizon. Not the haze of dusk, but the haze of dawn. He'd somehow managed to sleep through the horror of night. That alone was a testament to his exhaustion, and an alarming sign. He'd been losing a lot of blood. He could fall asleep and never wake up.

Checking his wounds, he attempted to clean them out as much as possible and staunch blood flow where he could. His scabs kept tearing open, and it was clear several had begun to spoil. His prosthetic was also officially out of lubricant, and was mostly seized as a result. It's limited range of movement resulted in jerky and barely controlled motions.

I'm going to die anyway. I might as well die and help someone… He doubted he would ever get the drives to Conclave hands. Coming to terms with his fate, he stood and continued on, grimacing through the pain. He forced the Calm to wash over him, wanting - needing - his emotions to vanish. Even as some senses dulled, others heightened beyond painful. It was worth it, though. At least his emotions stopped eating him from the inside.

This was day three of his march, including the harrowing climb from the dark cavern. He was on a suicide mission to the Triad base, where he hoped Nyx - and the others - would still be held. He'd come to terms with it. He would give his life for her - their - return. He just needed to get there in time.

He was going to go to the deepest , oldest, and darkest web of hell, where the Darkspinner himself would feed on his soul for all eternity... or whatever special existence awaited greedy and foolish men after death.

He stumbled and Hans growled, leaning in to keep Saedah from falling. He gave the cat's head a gentle pat, knowing he had to be in pain as well. Hans had lost Bansi, and his paws were just as raw as Saedah's own feet. They saw another squat plateau rising before them, stretching to the horizon in both directions, and Saedah knew they were getting close to the Triad military post.

Stolen novel; please report.

The wind changed direction as the day prepared for nightfall, bringing with it the pungent smell of blood and worse. It assaulted his senses in one sudden gust, shocking him to a halt. In the Calm, with his senses heightened and finding nothing but sand and wind for three days, the waft of iron and rot was suffocating. With a surge of fear, he stumbled faster, climbing the few feet to the flat top.

The walls surrounding the military post rose before him. Tall, wide gates barred the way into the base. A narrow road ran along the wall, disappearing in the distance. One small smaller trail left the road to end at the gates. That's where Saedah saw them.

Three wooden constructs stood between him and the base, along the right side of the path.

Those hadn't been there before, when Saedah had last spied on the post from atop the mountains overlooking the base to one side, and Coalshed to the other. His heart dropped to his stomach, threatening to come right back up when nausea wracked his body.

He knew who would be strapped to the crosses. He did not want to see them. And yet, he was powerless to stop himself. His feet carried him forward.

As he approached, he was focused solely on the three figures. The only movement came from their clothes and hair, or fur in one case. Blood caked their skin in dried, flaky streaks. Shredded clothes did little to cover their red, blistered, and broken bodies. Saedah fell to his knees, looking up to the limp figure before him.

Nyx sagged against the rods pierced through her chest, just below her shoulders and missing vital organs. Blood had run down her body and dried after mixing with sand. There was so much blood. Even her fronds had not escaped damage. Several ended in bloody nubs, doing little to hide her bowed, scabbed face.

He leaned toward her and gingerly touched her bruised foot with his own bloody finger. The thin rod piercing both feet was hot to the touch, having been baking in the sun for Gods knew how long. He glanced up once again, noted her closed eyes and forced himself to his feet again. He moved to assess Nala, who sat in a similar state as Nyx. He then moved to Troache.

Troache's eyes were open. His wounds were so much more severe, with an open gash above his ear, exposing larval insects and the picked-clean and sun-bleached white of his skull. His arms had been bent across his torso to be pierced by the rods through his shoulders. Deep gashes gouged his legs, with more just under his ribs on his left side.

Troache had been dead a while.

In the distance, Saedah heard the engine of the Ranger's buggies start. The horn, followed by a deep rumble announced the gate opening to the base. He sat once again at Nyx's feet and waited. They wouldn't send airborne carts after him this time. He was too weak to run or fight, and they knew it. They would save the fuel.

Or so he thought, as the familiar screech of a fighter entering atmos drew his eyes upwards.

Am I already dead, or is this a dream? He wouldn't doubt that he could conjure such a heart-wrenching nightmare, considering the past eighteen months. So, he simply sat there and waited, morbidly curious as to what his brian had created.

The emblem of the Leviathan stood out proudly on the sides of the fighter.

The crew at the watchtower noticed, however, and knew it for reality. They launched round after round of anti-aircraft artillery at the bird. Vector, in a showy maneuver, avoided the rounds and launched the angel flare.

It was the most beautiful sight Saedah had ever seen.

There, in his most miserable and disparaging moment, an angel had literally fallen from the heavens to his rescue.

At that moment, Vector opened fire on the wall and tower with two blasts. That was all it took to decimate the base defenses and leave a gaping hole in the wall. Billowing smoke rapidly spread throughout the interior, and a new frantic alarm sounded over the first. Saedah could almost feel a tinge of pity as he heard screams from within, but he looked again to Nyx and Nala, and to the lifeless body of Troache.

"GET IN!" Vector screamed on the loudspeaker.

"I won't leave them!" He yelled back, or tried to. What came out was a painful croak.

"sparking hells. Is that…?" Vector cursed as he opened the cockpit and kitty engaged the weapons. He jumped from the cockpit and hit the ground at a roll in his Skin. Saedah could only hear his side of the conversation. "Yeah. No choice. Troache is dead. Flux? Flux! If you can't calm down, get your cranky ass out of my feed. We need three beds. Yes, Troache is dead but D sure as hell don't look very good. Where's Val? Yes, Captain obvious. Looks like D's gonna need a mechanic there, too." Saedah could see the nod of Vectors head at his busted arm. His grip on one rod in Nyx's chest spasmed as emotions washed over him. Vector took the other rod. They strained against the metal rods to remove them from the wood without Pulling them free of the girls' flesh. It was far better to leave them than it would be to remove them. "Yes, a mechanic."

"Where is V" Saedah asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine. Nice to see you, too, by the way. I've been good. Your welcome for the lift." Vector was apparently rather upset. "So this is where you chose to go die? Nice."

"How did you find me here?" Saedah asked, not addressing Vector's jibes.

"Headhunters." Lev pointed with his thumb at the raging fire behind them, billowing deep black, acrid smoke into the atmosphere. "They brag. And now they shack up with the Triad, apparently. That's new. I set Kitty to watch the threads. And boom, there you were, a beat-to-shit half-breed and suspected high-ranking Conclave member, with a Baultoni, Neofei, and Pteroisian. How many groups could match that description? Lucky bastard. Where's Bansi?" Hans ran up from further along the road to rub Vector's leg, then abandoned the heat to retreat inside the cool ship.

"No clue. Hans found me in the ravine." Saedah indicated the expanse of desert, and the two sets of prints leading out of it. "We need to take Troache, too." Saedah stated, stumbling and nearly dropping Nala on the med cart.

"Really wish I'd gotten here a lot sooner." Vector grumbled, nodding in agreement. Troache was a good guy. He didn't deserve to be left out like this. None of them did.

Vector strapped Nala down as Saedah sagged, dizzy and drained. He was clearly in pain. Looking back to Troache, Vector could only hope that the onboard ventilation and filtration system could handle this level of decomposition.

Saedah finally took his own rest on Vector's fluffy bed after raiding the med closet. As he crawled onto the bed, chewing two chalky, bitter pills, he knew he'd soiled the sheets forever. They'd probably need to be burned. He couldn't bring himself to care if the whole bed needed to be burned. He was just happy to finally have a safe, comfortable place to sleep. He breathed a long sigh of relief.

Before letting himself fall asleep, he dug the drives out and placed them on the edge of the bed, near Hans' outstretched neck. He should have rolled over to put them on the shelf, but he couldn't be bothered to expend the energy. He was so tired, and the bed was so welcoming. Lavender and cleanliness flooded his senses as his muscles painfully adjusted to rest. There wasn't a single hard spot on the bed, either, as he sank into it and allowed it to mold to his body.

Saedah felt the ship Jump, and for the first time in his life, it didn't roll his stomach.

Shortly after, Vector attempted to sneak into the room to leave water and an assortment of medicines. He raised an eyebrow at the small, open container at the edge of the bed. That was the strongest stuff on his ship.

"Vector," Saedah whispered, sending the kid, stripped to his underclothes, into a startled jolt.

"Sparking hells, Saedah… Give me a heart attack…" Vector breathed in deeply and passed Saedah the water. After two sips through the straw, he lay his head back against the pillow.

"Hook this up to Kitty." Saedah tapped the drives with one hand, moving as little as possible and avoiding opening his eyes again.

"What's this?" Vector asked, lifting one and blowing the dirt off it. "And you are washing the bedding."

"Those… are the key..." A snore cut off anything else.