Samara’s body rippled, resuming her normal form, as she struggled to stay on her feet. She’d pushed herself too hard, especially given her wounds, and holding any shapeshift now was out of the question. Given time to heal and recuperate, she’d be back to her old tricks, but without Guardian…

Stumbling back the way she’d come; she retrieved the Repository as she wiped the blood from her mouth. Even though it was the reason she’d come to Altinak, she hadn’t wanted it to go down like this. Samara paused for a moment, supporting herself against a bulkhead as she stared down at Azrael’s body. Being honest she didn’t know what she felt; it would take time and a great deal of distance to even begin unraveling that mystery.

She winced as her hand went to her side and came back slick with her own blood. Despite the improvements Guardian had installed inside her, she doubted she could last much longer without help, and with Xeno and Kalypso dead she had no idea where to find it. If the Dampening Field was limited to Altinak, if it hadn’t permanently damaged the Repository, if she could get clear, if she could contact Guardian in time…

If, if, if. Given all those variables, the odds were not encouraging. But what other choice was there?

She bent down and retrieved Azrael’s sidearm, checking the magazine, realizing she’d forgotten one final “If”; if they didn’t gun her down before she could escape. The security teams were still out there, still searching, or at least waiting for her to emerge. What was she going to do about them?

As she glanced at the energy core, she knew what had to be done.

Life aboard the hollowed-out asteroid ground to a halt, as an announcement came over the loudspeakers.

“… Attention: Core Breach. Attention: Core Breach. All personnel are to proceed immediately to the nearest Docking Bay or Lifepod egress. You have fifteen minutes to evacuate the station before Core overload. Attention: Core Breach. Attention: Core Breach. All personnel…”

The reaction was immediate. Those in charge of evacuating the station were too well trained to allow panic but given the danger a Core overload represented keeping the pot from boiling over required total commitment, clear lines of communication...and more than a little luck. That they managed it all spoke volumes about their dedication and training.

That being said, the station was a scene of absolute chaos, more than frantic enough to allow one wounded woman the chance to escape.

With the Repository still clutched under her arm, Samara considered her options. The Lifepods were out; programmed for short distance only. They’d get her clear of the Asteroid before it went critical, but not far enough for an escape. Eventually someone would come along to pick them up, and that was a reunion she could do without, thank you very much. They also possessed only the barest of medical supplies and given her injuries that wouldn’t be enough.

So, it had to be a ship. She could debate her options for the next fifteen minutes... and not a second longer... or she could head for the one shuttle she knew was docked and waiting and depart as quickly as possible. Getting there in time could be a problem, but then what was life without challenge? A giggle threatened to burst past her lips before she clamped down hard; the last thing she needed was that kind of attention while she tried to sneak past their noses.

She’d made better time than she expected. In fact, she was most of the way to her objective when she ran into a snag.

As the computer continued to mark the time left, the once orderly evacuation started unraveling, as the crowd pushed and jostled their way to the docking bays. Pandemonium reigned supreme here, with individuals throwing off whatever veneer of civilization they might have possessed and forced on just getting away, without regard to the consequences or who might be in their way.

And amidst this sea of jumbled flesh she spotted a single, still island of humanity, pressed hard against the bulkhead... the same bunch of new arrivals she herself had brought to the station. Something within her clicked as she changed direction, fighting against the now panicked crowd while she worked her way over to them, wincing or crying out at every thrown elbow or shoulder that collided with her damaged flesh.

It terrified them, that much was obvious, their eyes wide and white with hysteria as they looked for someone, anyone, to guide them out of this madness. With one last burst of energy, she smashed her way into their perimeter, looking in vain for someone in charge of the group, only to find herself face to face with the same young woman on crutches she’d assisted just a few hours earlier.

“Where’s your Attendant?” Samara yelled over the din.

“I don’t know!” she shouted back. “They told us to wait here, but that was ages ago! We don’t know what we’re supposed to do!”

She suspected whoever they’d assigned to the group had decided it was every man for himself and bailed, but that was a question for another time. Right now, she had to get them moving. “Do you remember the way back to your shuttle?” she asked her.

“No!” was the girl’s screamed answer. By her calculations, she was about ten seconds away from completely losing her shit, and under these circumstances that was likely to end badly for her.

“Right then,” she grimaced. “Follow me!” she told the group. “Stick together, and watch out for one another, because if you get separated, we’re not doubling back. You fall behind, you get left behind. Understand?”

The jerky head movements she charitably referred to as nods claimed they did. “Then make a cordon, and head for that ramp,” she ordered, pointing toward the docks, as they moved. She focused on keeping her instructions simple and keeping the group close, though seeing one or two of their companions torn from their grasp to be swallowed whole by the crowd was a far more effective motivation.

Yet somehow, she kept the group mostly intact as they fought their way to the Yōkai. A crowd had gathered at the airlock, pounding their fists in frustration as they tried breaking in, but her last act when they’d departed was to Maglock the hatches. The last thing she’d needed was someone getting aboard and finding the original crew tied up in the closet which meant she was the only one who could open it back up again without resorting to a plasma torch. She squeezed past the others and input her code, carried along with the crowd as the hatch slid open and they charged inside, keeping her grip on the young woman so they did not knock her to the deck in the rush.

In the end they were propping each other up as they staggered inside, the blood loss seriously degrading her efforts. “Get me... to the bridge,” she gasped, as the girl wrapped a protective arm around her and helped her forward. She collapsed into the chair as her new ward landed beside her, depositing the Repository at her feet. Within seconds she had booted up the systems and was warming the engines when she activated a camera at the airlock. The crowd was thinning out, enough that she felt able to activate the warning lights and sirens as she began closing the hatch. A handful slipped through before it locked shut, while those left outside screamed in frustration before looking elsewhere for a ride.

Activating the intercom, she addressed the passengers. “Find someplace to sit down,” she told them, “or lie down on the deck, braced against something if you can. Do it fast because we’re leaving as soon as the engines are at full charge.” She closed the circuit, as there was little else she could tell them at the moment, though she spared a glance at her companion. “Get belted in,” she told her.

She nodded, fumbling at the harness, but figured it out soon enough even as Samara did likewise. “What’s your name?” the girl asked her.

She sighed and turned to face her. She’d asked out of politeness, out of gratitude, not realizing who she really was, or the can of worms that simple question opened. “... Liva,” she said at last.

“Thank you, Liva, for saving us,” she said softly. “If you hadn’t come along…”

Samara reddened and looked away. “... forget about it,” she mumbled, unable to face her.

“Rebekka,” she said by way of introduction, smiling back at her. “Rebekka Sarkozy.” Her eyes widened as she got her first good look at her. “You’re hurt,” she said in surprise.

The ping from the computer screen saved her from responding, as the ship signaled the engines were charged and ready. “Hang on,” she told her, as she disengaged the docking clamps and fired the engines, pulling away from the asteroid. Other ships were already in motion, even as the planetoid spit out hundreds of Lifepods, filled with those not lucky to find suitable transport elsewhere.

“How much longer, do you think?” Rebekka asked, nervously watching the screen.

“... soon,” Samara told her, “we got clear just in time.”

The PCS Yōkai continued speeding from the base, as Rebekka started grappling with her harness. “What are you doing?” Samara asked her.

“Looking for a Medkit,” she answered, rising to her feet and taking up her crutches. “You’re wounded.” She took a moment to orient herself and then made a beeline for the closet.

With a heavy sigh, Samara pulled Azrael’s pistol from her waist and raised it high, pointing it at the young woman. “Rebekka, get away from there,” she ordered. She turned in confusion, not understanding her instructions, only to freeze as she saw the gun.

“But... why?” she whispered.

“It’s a long story,” she wheezed, her strength ebbing. “I don’t want to hurt you, so please sit back down.”

Rebekka did as she was told, moving as slowly as she could manage, as if the slightest twitch might set her off. She buckled back up as Samara motioned with the weapon. She could only stare at her rescuer turned kidnapper, her eyes going briefly to the Repository before returning to her face. “You’re the one who did this,” she said at last.

“Yes,” Samara agreed.

The girl nodded, as if she hadn’t needed the confirmation. “Are you going to kill me?” she asked in a small voice.

“I’d prefer not to,” she answered, “but I won’t lie; if I’m forced to make a choice between you and me, it’s on the table.” She could already hear Azrael’s mad cackle, as his shade whispered in her ear, You haven’t changed a bit.

“I swear, I won’t tell anyone...” she began, but Samara waved her words aside.

“It doesn’t matter, since they already know who I am,” she shrugged. “Tell them, don’t tell them, it makes no difference to me. Once I’m clear, that is. Until then, I’m afraid I must insist on your cooperation.”

Considering recent events, she was handling it pretty well. “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “I don’t know what your grievance is, but if you just talked to the Clan leader…”

She couldn’t help herself. Samara burst out laughing, startling the young girl. “Oh, Jibril and I have chatted,” she chuckled. “It... didn’t go well.”

“... I don’t understand,” she whispered, hugging herself.

The gun was getting heavier by the minute. It was getting harder to focus as well. She was just so damned tired, tired of fighting, tired of everything. If she could just rest for a bit, close her eyes for just a moment…

She started back up, clutching the weapon now with both hands. “Did I fall asleep?” she barked, startling Rebekka yet again as she frantically shook her head.

Suddenly, it no longer seemed worth the effort. She slid the weapon back into her waistband and gave the girl a pitying look. “I was exactly like you, once,” she told her, “coming to the Proteans, hoping for a miracle. Only there aren’t any miracles... not here, not anywhere. Oh sure, they might fix you, like they did me, but they might not, either. You could end up like…” Words failed her, as she struggled to describe her friends. Freaks? Monsters?

Innocents? Once perhaps, but that was long, long ago. Maybe victims came the closest upon reflection.

“I know the risks,” she said defiantly.

“No, you don’t,” Samara answered. “You think you do, but you don’t. You can’t, not until you’ve lived it yourself.” She shook her head sadly. “Let’s suppose they help you. Let’s say you get everything you ever wanted. Then what?”

“I don’t understand,” Rebekka said at last.

“Fairy godmothers don’t work for free,” she explained. “Once the Clan... actually, once the Troika invests that much in you, they’ll want to see a return on their investment. There’re many ways you might end up repaying them, Rebekka... none of which are very pleasant.”

She shook her head once more. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Samara sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe because I need to tell someone. Or maybe it’s because I look at you, and I see myself... and I wish someone had explained what was lurking in the fine print to me before I signed.” Her eyes seemed to lose focus. “Or maybe it’s because I’ve seen my friends die, one by one, for something they believed in, and yet for my sins, I’m still here.” She gave Rebekka a sorrowful look... as the timer counted down to zero.

The Core detonated, spewing radiation and debris out of the docking bays and airlocks, shattering the few windows carved into the rock. It blasted a few larger chunks clear, sending them careening off on random trajectories. The asteroid shell remained... the explosion wasn’t that powerful... but it had left the rock thoroughly gutted.

... Samara! Samara, can you hear me? she heard Guardian shout in her ear.

“Guardian?” She suddenly wanted to weep. “Oh thank God, I thought you were dead.”

... No, not dead, he explained, merely unable to interface. I do not understand what happened.

“I’ll explain later,” she said in relief, “no, scratch that... just dig it out of memory. I’m on my last legs here, buddy.”

“Who are you talking to, Liva?” Rebekka asked warily, edging away from her.

“... a friend,” she smiled, as her vision grayed out once more. “Guardian? Hurry.”

... Accessing Host statistics, he replied, getting straight to business. There was a pause, and then, Oh... my. Samara? You are in terrible condition.

“No kidding,” she wheezed. “Get the Cognates warmed up; I’m piloting a shuttle, escaping from Altinak, and I’m carrying a bunch of passengers who aren’t clued in. I need help,” she pleaded. “Oh... and I have the original crew tied up in the closet. They’ll probably be waking up soon.” Rebekka turned in her chair with a start and stared at the closet herself, her eyes going wide.

... I will begin immediately, he assured her. Until then, you must rest while we work to repair the damage.

“Just a second,” she told him, before looking back over at Rebekka. “I’m going to be checking out for a bit,” she explained, “luckily, a friend of mine will take over the reins. He’s a little odd, so when he speaks with my voice, don’t be alarmed. He won’t hurt you.”

“Your own... voice?” she said incredulously. “How…?”

Samara could only shrug. “Like it or not, I’m a Protean,” she told her, “which means I’m just full of surprises.”

She even managed a wink, before the darkness claimed her.