“So many Chimærae,” Nine says, nodding excitedly as he gazes out into the darkness. “That’s awesome.”

“We named the chubby, lazy one after you,” Sam replies.

“Less awesome.”

Upon reaching us, John wraps Marina in a tight hug. It’s dark out, but I can see days of worry etched in the dark bags under his eyes. I remember that wide-eyed kid I found fighting Mogadorians at his high school and wonder if John felt like that again, like he was back to being alone against the world. It should be a relief that we’re reunited, but we’re one less, and I know John well enough to know that he’s been beating himself up over our loss for days.

“You made it,” John says as he lets Marina go and hugs me next. His voice is quiet, for me only. “I didn’t know what I was going to do if—”

“You don’t have to say anything,” I reply, squeezing him back. “We’re here now. We’re going to fight. We’re going to win.”

John takes a step back from me, a relieved look briefly passing across his face, like he needed someone to tell him that. He nods to me and then walks over to the ship, taking Eight’s body in his arms so that Nine can jump down. Everyone falls silent as Malcolm wheels the gurney forward so that John can set down the body.

“The Mogs put something on him,” Marina says. She takes a lurching step towards the gurney. “Some electrical field.”

Adam takes a tentative step forward and clears his throats. “Electrodes? Over the heart? On the temples?”

“Yes,” Marina replies without looking at Adam, her eyes fixed on Eight’s body bag.

“The Mogs use that to, uh . . .” Adam pauses, then finishes awkwardly. “To keep specimens fresh. It won’t harm the remains, just preserve them.”

“Specimens,” Nine repeats dryly.

“I’m sorry about your friend,” Adam says quietly, pushing a hand through his hair. “I just thought you should know . . .”

“It’s all right. Thanks, Adam,” John says. He puts a hand on Marina’s shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get him inside.”

“What—” Marina chokes up and has to take a deep breath. “What’re you going to do with him?”

“We’ve set aside a quiet room inside,” Malcolm replies gently. “I’m not sure what customs the Loric have for burials . . .”

I look first at John, whose face is scrunched up in thought, then at Nine, who looks absolutely baffled.

“We don’t know them either,” I say. “I mean, when was the last time we had a chance to properly honor one of our fallen?”

“We can’t bury him here, though,” Marina says. “This is a Mog place.”

Malcolm nods, understanding, and touches Marina softly on the shoulder. “Do you want to help me bring him inside?”

Marina nods. Together, she and Malcolm wheel Eight’s body back towards the sunken house. Adam follows them at a respectful distance, his hands clasped awkwardly behind his back. After a moment, Nine claps John hard on the back, breaking the tension.