Remus left Miran with only one parting piece of advice. Though several years her junior, the man showed a surprising spark of wisdom in his age. “Don’t let it define you,” he said. It wasn’t until he was leaving and flashed her a Djucovik-standard smile that she knew. She couldn’t let one thing, despite its horror, dictate her path forward; she had to let Soren fade.

  Receiving new orders from Matriarch Kerrigen, Captain Remus Djucovik had been given command of The Dream and given the title Protector of the Flock. Should any harm befall the citizens of Ganon from the threat that loomed on the horizon, Remus and Miran both had been given strict orders to escape, not to approach the enemy, and not to send rescue shuttles lest the infected Ghede use them to escape and risk spreading the phage.

  The Seragam broke atmosphere fifty kilometres outside of Hisshou, rumbling as it did. The warship, though rated for travel within atmo, in practice seldom did. Ships of the flock saw decades – even their entire lifespan – without ever travelling within a planet’s gravity well. Far above any other reason, this being a cost concern. It took an order of magnitude more energy to lift a ship from a well than to navigate the near-emptiness of the black.

  Touching down in the dry dust ten kilometres west of the city’s edge, its rugged structures far into the distance and obscured by rolling sands. The Seragam’s portside had been positioned to point directly at Eidao, at the enemy, as if it were an ancient ocean galleon running alongside readying for cannon fire. Miran and Lawson set out on their respective tasks. Lawson piloted the shuttle they had taken from Patriarch Hari’s estate out over the sweeping landscape, dipping down to touch the sands as it flew, releasing the cure dispersal pylons each on their own remotely controlled skiff. Loading up and strapping down the bomb in a downgrav field, Miran took a manual skiff out slowly across the terrain. Dodging dunes in an overabundance of caution, she tried not to jostle the bomb into exploding, and she along with it.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asked Lawson over bulletin. “You can take that shuttle and run now. I wouldn’t say a word.”

  “You’re a pale one if you think I’m about to leave you to die on your own,” he said, his sardonic smile radiating over the audio-only connection. “I’m just dropping the last of the pylons now. Should be back on the Seragam in thirty– thirty-two.”

  “I hear you,” Miran confirmed as she lowered the bomb into position in that sand using the skiff’s remote arm. She had been careful to set up the makeshift encampment first, hanging tents and tarps, setting up shelving and scaffolds, with the help of a few aerial drones. The whole scene appeared to anyone outside to be a field hospital, set up as a feeble attempt to stem the tide of the phage. Or, at least she hoped that’s what it looked like from orbit. The only thing missing were patients.

  A bulletin opened on Miran’s terminal, showing a harried Matriarch Kerrigen as she walked across a backdrop of awaiting soldiers and navalmen. Miran strained to listen as the audio sputtered, made worse by the dry winds as they billeted the tent walls.

  “How are we doing?” Kerrigen asked, skipping any pleasantry.

  “Lawson’s just finished his last drop,” Miran said, “I myself am nearly through here, just need to arm the bomb and head back to The Seragam.”

  “Good,” Kerrigen stated, failing any attempt at eye contact through the connection. She was constantly on the move, pointing and shouting to various offscreen parties as they made battle preparations. It was several minutes before, from what Miran could surmise, Kerrigen realised she was still on the call.

  “How are things on your end?” Miran asked.

  “Could use more time, but we’ll manage,” she said, “Our force is nearly five thousand strong encircling the inner city. We’ve retreated all of the citizens we could allow inside our lines, but there’s no telling what sort of numbers we’ll be facing. Telemetry from The Dream places the Ghede host a kilometre out and moving fast. They’ve sensed our presence.”

  “And Nora and Oscar, have they made any progress breaking into the Ghede’s hive mind?”

  “None as of yet,” Kerrigen said, “Though Captain Ignacio assures me they will. She’s a bright one, that Tolly. It’s no wonder why she made it out of Bordeaux like she did.”

  Miran nodded in agreement; “She is,” said Miran. “If you’d do me a favour when this is all through, Jhen, would you look out for her?”

  “I thought you were certain this wasn’t a suicide mission?”

  “We both know how realistic that is, Matriarch,” said Miran. “Just promise me, okay?”

  “You have my word as Matriarch. Now, focus on what needs to get done. I will focus on things here,” said Kerrigen. “I– shit.”

  Kerrigen’s connection sputtered and shook in her hand, and she turned to something behind her. A loud explosion sounded on bulletin, and her face soured. Frantic shouting followed by the stamping of boots and gunfire erupted in the background, and a large plume of smoke and ejecta rocketed across the screen.

  “The enemy is here!” Kerrigen said, after first shouting a set of orders to her troops. “Miran, you know what to do.”

  “What is it, what’s happening?” Miran pressed.

  “They are already here. They’ve somehow circumvented our lines,” she explained, “I thought we had all entrances to the underground covered, but I guess not. I’m sorry, Miran.”

  The bulletin dropped, and Miran stared back at an empty terminal screen. Then, moving quickly, she packed up the skiff and set off back toward The Seragam, leaving the bomb in view on the horizon.

  Pulling up in her skiff, Miran saw that Lawson’s shuttle had already arrived, docking on the vessel’s starboard side, its engines the only portion visible from the east. She rolled the skiff into its storage bay, and Lawson was there waiting for her.

  “Rissa called,” he said, “It’s not going well for Kerrigen’s forces. ‘Says they’re taking a beating.”

  Lawson handed Miran his open terminal showing battle telemetry. Miran looked over the horde that was now clashing with Ganon’s forces head-on, with a small island of incursion erupting in their midst. Her anger welled up to her mouth, and she caught herself wishing she were there to help.

  “This plan better work,” Miran said, grilling herself. “I don’t like that this whole thing rests on the shoulders of a turncoat. I’m still not sure I trust him to get the job done.”

  “I haven’t met him, so I wouldn’t know,” Lawson admitted. “Still, it’s a shame that we can’t do anything more. Maybe we can fire the Seragam’s guns, break up their lines from here?”

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  “No. That would cause undue destruction to the city, let alone kill any citizens lucky enough to hide themselves out of sight. No, I think we better stick to the plan,” she said, quelling the rage that roiled beneath her feet.

  “She’s never going to forgive me. Rissa, that is,” Lawson said with a sigh. “I think I’ll go to my grave hated by the only person that knows I exist.”

  “I’m here. I know you,” Miran said, matter-of-fact. “So quit being so pale. I promised Rissa I’d bring you home.”

  Lawson chortled and stood upright. “Well, look-see. Seems our trust in that freakshow paid off,” he said, pointing out across the dunes.

  Across the nearly ten-kilometre gap between the city and The Seragam, Miran could make out a small billow of dust surge from between the buildings. The cloud grew slowly as it moved, Heralding the arrival of the Ghede as they left Eidao. Miran’s heart nearly leapt from her throat as she was forced into her new reality. The enemy was here.

  “Based on their top speed, telemetry shows they will be here in thirty-two minutes,” Miran told him. “We better get inside and ready the ignition.”

  “Just like that? We blow up a nuke outside a Federation city?” he said, shaking his head. “Lead on.”

  On the bridge, at the heart of the Seragam, Miran and Lawson readied themselves. They strapped themselves in as Miran poured through the telemetry of the ground battle. From above, swaths of Ghede were still engaged with Kerrigen’s forces, while the vast majority of the force was now on its way out of the inner city and toward The Seragam. The only problem, Miran noticed, was the bulk of the force was still within the city, with only a small portion bleeding towards her. Fearing what this might mean, Miran opened a bulletin to Rissa.

  “I see it too,” Rissa admitted, “At this rate, the bulk of the force will still be within the city.”

  “I don’t see the issue. You said this blast would cover the whole city,” asked Lawson.

  “It will, but where there are Ghede still in the city, there will be a small portion still in the underground which can outlast the first blast,” Rissa explained, “Maybe, our contagion entirely.”

  “Any left below will have to be cleaned up by Kerrigen’s forces….” Miran said, thinking. “And any of those will undoubtedly lead to more ground forces losing their lives.”

  “That is a problem then,” Rissa admitted.

  “Can you have Tolly tell Oscar to have them move a little faster?” Miran asked.

  Rissa shook her head.

  “It’s not going to work if we don’t get most of them out this way,” said Miran.

  “What we need is to wait, to draw them all in closer somehow,” Rissa said to herself. Miran could see the woman deliberating something in her head.

  “I’ve got it,” Tolly said, stepping in frame. “We need to move everything out closer to you, away from the city.”

  “The Seragam might survive a blast of that magnitude, but what about the increase in radiation passing through here?” Miran asked.

  “Won’t that kill us?” Lawson asked disapprovingly.

  Rissa seemed to hesitate but ultimately ignored their concern. Instead, she replied, “Tolly’s just reran the simulation. You’ll need to move both the bomb and the pylons closer to The Seragam. But, to accommodate a wider dispersal pattern, you will need to position the pylons far closer together. Yes, here. I’ve sent over the coordinates of where to reposition them. Tolly has also programmed a set of instructions for the pylons. We can enact them from here on your signal.”

  Perturbed, Miran asked Rissa again, “Will we survive a blast from that close?”

  “In a word? Maybe,” Rissa said, apologetic. “Miran, I don’t see much choice.”

  Miran turned to Lawson as he stared through her.

  “Lawson. Take the shuttle and get out of here,” Miran ordered. “No sense both of us dying here.”

  “No. Don’t,” argued Rissa, “We can’t risk it looking like you’re trying to flee. We need to keep the Ghede blind.”

  Lawson looked back at her and shrugged, dismissive of their shared fate.

  “You heard her,” he said, “I’m staying.”

  Miran loosened her straps and stood, “Then make sure you find the deepest, darkest hole in this ship, and you put yourself there. Wrap yourself in several environment suits and whatever else you can use for shielding,” she said, slipping into an environment suit of her own.

  “Build myself a nest – got it,” he said.

  “Good luck, you two,” Rissa said before closing the bulletin. And they would need it.

  I don’t know what you did, but the Ghede have begun peeling off my forces. They are all headed to you now, Kerrigen said over a text bulletin. Godspeed, Miran.

  Finally, a stroke of luck, she thought. Now, if only she could get out there, move the bomb, and pray most of the Ghede make it out of the city, this might just work.

  Stepping back out of the airlock, it felt different than before. This time, instead of the cushion of desert sand, her envirosuit’s boots dug in with a vibrating crunch. Somehow, she imagined environment suits had not been designed with walking a desert’s dunes in mind. Nevertheless, unstowing the skiff and strapping herself in, she jetted back off over the sand.

  As she neared the fake encampment, nearly two kilometres out, the main horde approached. They moved in a spearhead away from the main host, concentrating their fastest runners down the middle. Their intelligence was obvious, as was their ability to run in near synchronicity, not tripping or trampling each other. Stepping from the skiff, Miran wasted no time. Wielding the skiff’s arm like a fifth appendage, she hoisted the bomb onto the skiff bed and remounted it, jetting away from the encroaching horde.

  Taking only a minute to unload the bomb, Miran ensured that it was snug in the sand and rearmed. The timer on her terminal showed she had just ten minutes until the horde passed the encampment and another four before they reached the pylon’s new position.

  “They may see this now,” she said to herself, “but it’s too late for you, Nin.”

  She knew, even if they discovered her ruse now, they had little hope of doubling back inside the city. Miran pulled a set of scanners out of the skiff. Scanning across the Ghede line, Miran wondered if she would recognize any of the faces of the horrors that sprinted over the dunes toward her. She counted out loud with a series of _No’_s as she moved the viewport across them. She must have passed several hundred, struggling in vain to recognize any of them, until she came across one out-of-place visage. Of all the people she had remembered, Diega Vaness, the nurse that tended Soren’s bedside, was now one of the twisted that pursued her. It wasn’t until gunfire began to ring out in the distance that she knew she had to move.

  “nine minutes now,” she said, hurrying back aboard the skiff, “enough sightseeing.”

  Stowing the skiff for the second time, Miran received a bulletin from Tolly.

  “Miran, are you okay?” Tolly asked, a harried expression on her face.

  Miran checked her countdown, “I’m fine, Tolly. Three minutes now until detonation.”

  “No. Miran, are you coming back after this?” the young woman asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You said you were coming back.”

  Miran’s heart ached. Here she was about to lose everything, about to sacrifice herself and take something more away from this girl, a girl who had already lost so much. She and Tolly were kin, and she knew that. That made it all the matter worse what she had to say next.

  “Tolly, I’m sorry,” Miran said, tears welling, “I’m sorry I won’t make it back for the funeral.”

  “You promised, Miran. I can’t lose you, not again. First, I lost Groen, my crew, then Blane, Connor, Soren, and now you?”

  “Tolly…” Miran said, still staring out across the dunes. The sun was high now, baking the tops of the sand and filling the air with fragrant metal. Her envirosuit was registering a high heat, far within its temperature range, but it baked her skin underneath either way. The ravenous figures so distant across the dusten waves tore at her, threatening the end. Her endless rage, the fury that defined her for most of her life as of late, even back to the beginning, was no longer there. In its place, a calm acceptance. She had done it, saved her people, done what she knew was her duty as Matriarch.

  “I won’t accept goodbye,” Tolly steadfastly affirmed, snapping Miran back to the present, “You get yourself inside the ship. You come home.”

  Tolly’s order was received by some deep region in Miran’s brain, forcing a smile back at Tolly.

  “For you,” Miran agreed, stepping back inside The Seragam’s portside airlock. Miran ended the call, to Tolly’s surprise.

  Typing in a command on her terminal, Miran paused in the last stroke. She hovered a finger over the button that would ignite the bomb, trigger the dispersal pylons, and send the whole Ghede horde back to the dreadful hell they came from.

  The countdown reached single digits, and Miran let her finger go. A crack on the horizon and a blip in the telemetry resonated like a beacon. Miran’s heart fell still.

  Several seconds later, the crack became a roar. Storm winds beset the outer hull of the Seragam. Miran knelt in her suit on the Seragam’s decking.

  “It’s done,” she said, letting out a painful breath.

  And as the moments passed into what seemed like hours, Miran gradually lost consciousness.