No one says anything or even moves for about a minute, all of us a little worried that a squadron of Mogs will be storming in here at any second. Finally, Nine shakes off my grip, popping back into the visible world.

“Okay. What the holy hell was that about?” he exclaims. “Is that kid trying to buddy up now or is he just totally loony tunes?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I reply. “We’ve got Eight, that’s what’s important. We can deal with Five another time.”

“He’s alone and lost,” Marina says softly, letting go of my hand as well. She notices me rubbing some warmth back into it, the chilled feeling still lingering, and frowns. “Sorry, Six. He brought it out of me.”

I wave it off, not wanting to get into Marina’s Legacy control at the moment. I tiptoe to the hangar doors and edge them open just a crack. I’m just in time to see Five disappearing up the ramp and onto the warship, the last one aboard. Once he’s inside, the ramp curls back into the warship’s underbelly and the huge ship begins to rise up, its engines purring with a softness that seems almost impossible for a vessel that size. Once it reaches a certain height, the warship starts to flicker and I begin having trouble distinguishing its outline from the purple clouds. Hulking, virtually silent, and equipped with some kind of cloaking device—how are we supposed to fight something like that?

“You sound like you feel sorry for him,” Nine says to Marina.

“I don’t,” she snaps at Nine, but I can hear some doubt creeping into Marina’s voice, that tough exterior she’s been putting on showing some faults. “I . . . did you see his eye?”

“I saw a hole in his head covered by a Band-Aid,” Nine replies. “Dude has that and more coming to him.”

“Do you think Eight would want that?” I ask, honestly wondering. “He died trying to keep us from killing each other.”

The warship risen out of sight, I turn around to face the others. Nine chews his lip and stares at the floor, considering what I just said. Marina has taken a seat in Five’s former chair at Eight’s side. She tentatively touches the electrodes and waves her fingers through the energy field. When nothing happens, Marina gently brushes her fingers through his curly hair. Her eyes shine with fresh tears, but she holds them back.

“I knew I’d find you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I ever left you.”

I walk over to join Marina at the table, gazing down at Eight. Maybe it’s my imagination, but it seems like he has the faintest smile on his lips.

“I wish I’d known you better,” I say to Eight, reaching out to place my hand lightly on his shoulder. “I wish our lives had been different.”

Nine hesitates but eventually joins us at the table, standing next to Marina. At first, he avoids looking directly at Eight’s body, his lips pursed, the muscles in his neck twitching like he’s trying to lift something heavy. He’s ashamed, I realize. It seems to take a great effort on his part, but after a moment Nine manages to look at Eight. Immediately, he reaches out to zip up the body bag a little more, enough so that Eight’s wound is hidden from view.