Thresha started to reply, but first she stepped forward and fixed blazing eyes on Letho. “Well, we’ll see how well that works out for you when we find ourselves in the middle of an Alastor/Abraxas sandwich and your life, your friends’ lives, are on the line.”

Letho chuckled, a crazed half-chortle. “Yeah, we’ll see. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” she said, still glaring.

Letho felt intimidation creeping up into his chest. “When it comes down to it, whose side will you be on? Are you going to turn on us the moment it suits you?”

“I’m on my own side,” Thresha said coldly.

“Fair enough. What do you say that we keep all of this quiet? The less we remind everyone that you’re a blood-sucking monster, the better.”

“Works for me.”

“All right then, let’s get back to the others. Hopefully we’ll be leaving soon.”

Letho moved to leave the storage room, and Thresha followed, but not before stopping to issue a lewd, two-fingered gesture at his back.

****

It didn’t take long to load the meager results of their foraging. Conversation was sparse, as if they were afraid to spend the calories. Or perhaps it was simply that they were all terrified. None of them know what waited for them on the surface of Eursus. Letho knew from his time in the news sector that the atmosphere was safe, even though the climate had become much less hospitable, as man’s manipulation of the world around him had slowly circumvented the ecosystem’s delicate balance. But it wouldn’t be the air or the boiling heat that killed them. It would be starvation, Letho feared.

They loaded the last of the gathered food and boarded Deacon’s ship. Letho noticed that Deacon’s skin had taken on a sickly hue, and sweat beaded on his forehead and soaked the collar of his flight suit.

“Hey, buddy, you sure you’re all right?” Letho asked.

“Yeah, just feel a little sick to my stomach. Probably those Valhalla Sausages.”

The gnawing sensation of vague recollection. The look on Deacon’s face, the glassiness of his eyes. It was familiar.

“All right. I hope you feel better,” Letho said.

“So where are we headed?” Deacon asked.

“I would say that we need to steer clear of Hastrom City for now,” Letho said.

“Agreed,” Bayorn interjected. “It would be wise to set a course far south of the place where Abraxas dwells and scout for a suitable place to take refuge until we can figure out our next course of action. They likely believe we are all dead, and we should keep it that way.”

Thresha chuckled. “You think those two give a damn about any of you? They’ve probably forgotten you even existed. We could probably land right in the center of town and join the party.”

“They may not remember us,” Maka said through clenched teeth, “but they will certainly remember the Mendraga that betrayed them.”

“Hm. Good point,” Thresha said.

“Does anyone else have any ideas?” Letho asked. “Seems to me our only option is to do what Bayorn said and steer clear of Hastrom City. Deacon, how long can the ship fly before it runs out of fuel?”

Deacon didn’t respond.

“Deacon?”

“Huh? Oh, sorry, could you repeat that? I zoned out for a second there.”

“How much fuel do we have?” Letho asked.

“Well, she’s designed for quick trips from one Fulcrum station to another, so…” Deacon did the mental math. “Traveling through space versus planetary travel, that throws a wrench in it. Gravity, drag, all that good stuff. I’d say we have an effective range of about one hundred to two hundred klicks once we get down there.”

“I say that we head down and fly low, see if we can find any sign of Zedock and anyone that made it out with him,” Letho said.

“It’s as good a plan as any,” Bayorn agreed.

“All right then, let me just put some information into the ship’s computer, and we’ll be on our way,” Deacon said.

He began to enter information into the keypad on his console. The persistent, rhythmic clacks of his keystrokes lulled Letho, easing his mind, and for a moment he forgot the precarious nature of their situation. He envisioned his triumphant return to a planet that had birthed his species, if not Letho himself. He felt like he knew it though, as, in a way, he had visited it: through as many vids and data feeds as he could get his eyes on. How strange a sensation, to feel nostalgia for a place he had never set foot on, based solely on ghostly images generated by his compuscreen.

Letho was not a particularly optimistic person, but for once he felt his spirits rising. He looked around at his compatriots and felt a bittersweet stirring of emotions too entwined with one another to be identified individually. His friends’ loyalty to him touched him deeply—it was at once humbling and edifying. But he also felt a strange pity as he looked upon them; the fact that they had placed their fates in his hands made his heart ache. What if he failed them? He was a young man, barely out of his teens, completely unproven. His previous plan had exploded in his face, and had seen the rise of an ancient evil, a creature the Tarsi regarded as the devil himself. He hoped for better things when they reached the surface. And he longed to see his friend Zedock Wartimer. He hoped that the old man was alive. Maybe he would know what to do next. If Letho could find him—and get those who traveled with him there as well.

Letho was drawn back to reality as the ship lifted from the floor of the docking bay and began to move toward the opening doors of the airlock. Deacon guided the ship through the doorway a little too fast, even before the doors had opened completely.

Does he always have to show off like that?

The ship drifted away from the dormant Fulcrum station, and the image of a forgotten planet filled the portholes of Deacon’s shuttle. If they had seen it a thousand years before, it would have appeared as an azure gem quite out of place in the pinprick black of space, a precious thing indeed. Even in its current state—a brown husk with dim seas and intermittent patches of green—it was a sight to behold.

It was the most beautiful thing Letho had ever seen.

“Okay, folks, the computer is going to get us through re-entry. Once we’re through, I’ll switch over to manual control and we’ll see what we can find.”

Letho nodded at Deacon and offered him a two-fingered salute. “We’re finally going home, Deacon. Can you believe it?”

“Yeah, it’s insane. I never thought I’d live to see the day. Sila would have—” Deacon stopped himself, and his shoulders slumped. He gestured openly with his hands toward Letho. “Aw, hell, Letho, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay. You’re right. She would have been freaking out right now. It’s just a shame she isn’t here to see this.”

“In a way, she is,” Bayorn said. “As long as you carry her with you, she will see what you see, Letho.”

“Thanks, Bayorn,” Letho said.

Though he tried to lie to himself, he resented Bayorn’s platitude. How could Bayorn say such a thing? He had been there when Letho had decapitated the first woman he had ever truly cared for. Hell, she was the first being of any gender or species with whom he had ever felt such a strong connection—with Deacon a close second, of course. If Letho was going to carry anything with him, it would be the image of her head rolling across the floor, eyes staring at nothing, her body slumping and falling with a sickening thud like a sack of ground meat hitting the floor.

Letho shuddered, and he noticed that Bayorn was watching him with concerned eyes. He offered Bayorn a false smile.

The ship continued on its computer-controlled trajectory. It reversed itself to reduce its velocity, and orbital maneuvering engines pushed the the ship out of orbit, toward the planet. It turned so as to point its blunt bottom downward, then began the plummet into the upper reaches of Eursus’s atmosphere. As Letho looked out the window, the black was replaced, first by a warm pink, and then by fireball-red and orange. Heat began to sear the interior of the ship, and Letho began to panic as he realized he was looking from the inside of a fireball outward. The friction of Eursus’s atmosphere against the hull of the ship was setting fire to the air all around them.