MY HANDS ARE SOAKED IN BLOOD. IT’S STILL WARM, JUST LIKE Victria’s body. I move to shut Victria’s staring eyes, and some of her blood—or my blood, I can’t tell which—drips on her face and slides down her cheek. I don’t close her eyes. Let her stare at Orion.

I stand, wiping Victria’s blood on my pants. I pull down the neck of my tunic, staring at the bleeding wound in my left arm, just below my shoulder. Doc fired the gun as he fell. The bullet grazed me—and killed Victria.

I shut my eyes, trying to block out the image before me, but all I can smell is gunpowder and blood. I push my wi-com again. Kit answers immediately. “I found the hatch,” she says, breathless. “I’ll be there soon.”

I rip the green patch off Bartie, who is standing closer to me, but I don’t wait for the light to return to his eyes. Avoiding Victria’s body, I cross the genetics lab to reach Elder. When I peel the med patch from his neck, I leave a line of red on his skin.

I bury my head into the soft spot between Elder’s chest and arm. My blood seeps through his shirt, but I don’t care. I just stand there, willing myself to be as emotionless as he is, even if it’s just because there are still trace amounts of Phydus in his system.

When I feel his arms raise and wrap around me, I break. I sob into his chest, wild, loud, uncontrollable sobs that leave me breathless but still aren’t enough.

“What the frex happened?!” Kit shouts from the doorway. Her eyes are wide and shocked, jumping from Bartie to us to Doc and finally to Victria.

She drops to her knees beside Victria, ignoring the blood that seeps into her trousers.

“It’s too late,” I say.

Her eyes rove across the room, and at first I’m worried that she’s too shocked to do any good. I realize, though, that she’s evaluating all that’s happened and all that needs to be done. She closes Victria’s eyes. I’ve heard people say that dead bodies look like they’re sleeping. But not Victria. She had peace and serenity when her eyes were focused on Orion, but now that they’re shut, she looks well and truly dead.

Kit reaches into her pocket and tosses me two pale yellow patches. “Antidotes for Phydus,” she says, moving immediately to Doc.

“Don’t give him one,” I warn. Kit opens her mouth to protest, but when she sees my look, she nods.

“Perhaps it would be best for him to stay on Phydus,” she says in a worried voice. “He must be in a lot of pain, and the Phydus will dull it.”