“You idiot,” Rogers said, more blithely than he should have.

In that moment, he felt a subsiding of his fears, and a sort of bland numbness embedded itself firmly into his mind. He was trapped. He was going to die. The Flagship was probably about to be overrun—or blown up; he wasn’t sure which was worse—and an army of super-intelligent, self-aware droids was about to begin a sustained campaign against humanity.

In a way, he realized, this was all his own fault.

Well, no, not really. It was actually Dorsey’s fault. Almost more disappointing than dying was the fact that Rogers would never get to drown him in a vat of marinara sauce and fried calamari.

Someone was pounding at the door.

“Rogers!” someone cried. Who was that? It certainly didn’t sound like Deet or Hart. It was hard to hear through the helmet of the VMU; even though it had aural sensors, it was designed for operation in a vacuum, where sound didn’t really matter too much, anyway.

“I’m here!” he shouted, hoping his voice carried enough.

Once, twice, three times the door shuddered. From his limited point of view, supine on the floor, he could see the thin metal door bulge on its lock-and-hinge frame, but the debris behind it was preventing it from opening.

“Graaaah!”

Rogers’ head popped up like a defeated droid’s, and he stared at the door. He knew that guttural, visceral, utterly beautiful roar. It was the roar of a Viking.

The door flew inward, and, surrounded in a glowing halo of bright yellow light, ringed by flames, the Viking appeared, her shoulders filling the entire doorframe. Her clothes were burned and torn by battle, her face covered in sweat and smoky residue, her eyes wild and unhinged. She held a disruptor rifle in one hand and a jagged, wicked-looking knife between her teeth.^I

Barreling into the room, the most beautiful woman in the world threw her rifle to the side, grabbed the large piece of control equipment with both hands, and discarded it like a used tissue. Without a word, she scooped Rogers up in her arms, retrieved her rifle, and carried him outside.

As she set him down, she looked him over, concern in her eyes. Behind her he could see the battle rapidly expanding as marines and more droids joined the fray. The expansive area of the Pit, the maintenance area, and now even the hangar, were becoming a vast battleground filled with fire and disruptor pulses, broken droids and injured humans. It was impossible to tell who was winning, but it was easy to tell that both sides were really, really trying to.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

Rogers looked at her dreamily, unable to breathe. “Mrr,” he said.

She narrowed her eyes and knocked on his helmet. “Hello? Are you in there?” She looked at his suit. “You’re not thinking of running away again, are you?”

“The thought never crossed my mind,” he said, meaning it. “I need to get to my ship. I’ll explain later. Do you think you can hold them here for a while?”