Now that the fighting is over, my eyes are locked on that fallen suit and the body inside. Dread chokes me as my mind replays the fight over and over. Again and again I return to the moment I chose to chase the power source rather than save my team member. I made the choice I had to. I prioritized the objective, as I’ve been trained to do. In the middle of a fight, it was instinctual, easy. But now I have to face the consequences.

Which of my teammates will I find dead on the ice? Not Daniil, who is making his own gradual descent down the cliffside with his sniper rifle. Will it be steady Sverre, who never questions my judgment? Rookie Ivennie, who looks at me with such naked trust in her eyes? Or sharp-tongued Magda, who I care for much more than I should?

It’s dangerous to care. I shouldn’t have a preference about whose body I’m about to find. It isn’t fair to my team or to myself, and it isn’t logical. But my heart can’t seem to heed my mind.

I struggle across the heavier snow of the valley, each step sinking several inches down, each lift of my legs straining already-exhausted muscles. The effect of the Sanita is almost completely gone now, along with the rush of battle, and the aches and scrapes on my body are solidifying into throbbing centers of pain. Each breath is a knife’s jab to my ribs, a constant reminder of the blow I took. But I push forward until I fall to my knees beside the fallen suit, and grab the bloodied helmet with both hands. The mechanism that connected it to the rest of the suit is already severed. It comes free easily.

The moment the body’s honey-blond hair comes tumbling free, relief washes over me. Guilt chases close behind, but it’s not strong enough to overpower that initial relief. Ivennie is dead. I let her die. But only Ivennie. Not Daniil, not Sverre, not Magda. Not Magda. I thank the stars even as I curse myself.

Nearby, Sverre struggles out of the exosuit still stuck on its knees, struggling to pull one leg free from the dented metal. I school my features into a blank mask as he limps over, looking at Ivennie’s body and then at me. He nods, his face stonelike. I nod back. A mutual understanding—this is terrible, but not nearly as terrible as it could have been. Soon Daniil joins us as well, his eyes downcast and his body trembling from the cold with no coat to protect him. He wordlessly passes me the still-wrapped power source.