"Mom, wake-up!"

She didn't want to open her eyes. Life was so much better in the dark. When she couldn't see what happened, it couldn't be happening, right?

The voice... she remembered the voice. Mom. That word sent a jolt of fear through her. As much as she wanted to hide from the world, from the reality she knew she lived in, she had to wake up now.

"Petal?"

Her voice cracked, her mouth too dry, her lips chapped and swollen from the abuse she had received. Raising her head was a chore almost too heavy for her to accomplish, but she struggled to do it, to open her eyes and find the source of that panicked voice.

"Petal? Where—Where am I? How did you get here?"

Once she started talking, it became easier, though her throat hurt, bruised as it was. She wanted to talk, to ask questions. Talking was almost as good as keeping herself in the dark, because as long as she talked, nobody could answer. And as long as she was talking, she didn't have to think.

Small hands took hold of hers. She winced but forced herself to keep them still, not to pull them back.

Don't let her know how much you're hurt! Don't let her see.

"They took us, mom. They took all of us and put us in this room with the other people—"

"Oh baby, are you OK? Where's your little sister? Did they... did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine. We're fine. They just put us here and left us. I don't know for how long. Days."

Someone pushed her to one side, then another. She almost screamed in pain as Petal tightened her grip on her hands in order not to lose her.

"Please, get up, mom. Something's... Something's happening."

Another shove. Only the contact with her daughter kept her up. She was on her feet, wasn't she?

Bodies pressed against her on all sides now and her befuddled senses finally picked up on the frantic babble around her. People. So many people! They were all around her, packed into this room with her.

Her breathing quickened, and she squeezed her eyes closed again.

Too many people! There were—She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, too many!

"Mom!"

Petal yelled it in her ear and she wanted to slap it away; the noise, the pressure, it was too much. But before she could react, Petal's hands were torn from hers, pulled away with the press of bodies.

No!

She was on her knees, she could feel that now, the rough concrete scraping her knees with every movement of the crowd. She knew Petal was right; she had to get up. If she fell, these people would trample her. They kept moving and moving, dragging her with them...

Petal! Xandra! Where were they?

The thought shocked her onto her feet, paying no attention to the toes she stepped on. She cast around, trying to see in this murky darkness, the darkness that had been her friend until so recently.

"Petal? Xandra?"

"I'm here!" she heard, but the sound moved away from her, going with the mass of people, to... to where? What was going on?

Even standing on her feet, the crowd around her towered over her, blocking most of her sight. It was so hard to breathe, with that wall of people surrounding her, but she had to. She couldn't afford to have a panic attack here.

She had to get to her children. That was all what counted. Trying to keep her feet planted firmly under her, she drove herself forward, going with the flow of the people, but trying to go faster, speed it up, by wriggling between their bodies. Every part of her ached and if the press around her didn't buoy her up, she doubted she would have been able to stay on her feet.

Who were all those people? There were men, women and even some children, young and old. A baby wailed softly, then stopped. She hoped someone had found a gentle way to keep it quiet. She really didn't want to think about what happened when a baby got trampled by a mindless mob like this. Xandra wasn't a baby, but she was too young to withstand this press. She really didn't want to think about that.

She was half-carried, half limping through the mass of human meat when she saw the walls approach. Fear blossomed inside her. If she got pushed against that wall, she wouldn't be able to push back, to keep herself from being squeezed like a ripe orange. There was no way to steer her direction. The high vaulted walls came closer and closer with a frightening speed.

"Xandra!" she screamed again, her voice cracking again, this time with a thrilling note of panic. Petal would be helpless as well, maybe not as vulnerable as Xandra, but not even a lanky legged colt would be light-footed enough to stay on top of this mob, especially not when she had her little sister with her.

More screaming around her, cries of panic and pain, outrage and helplessness. They struck her with merciless force. She wanted to press her hands against her ears to block them out, but that would mean giving up. Without her hands, she couldn't keep that tiny breathing-space between her and the others.

The wall was there, impassable, implacable. Another heave threw her forward, faster than before, and she was launched through a doorway, stumbling, blinded by the sudden bright light into a wide corridor. People hurried in all directions, flowing away like water from a burst bottle. Behind her there were still muffled screams and wailing, but the flow that took her was milder, slowly slowing down as a people fled into doors and crossings.

"Mommy!"

Xandra's voice broke through her daze. She lost her tenuous balance, stumbled and fell. There was nobody to keep her up, nobody to drive her forward anymore. She went down on the ground, rolling to the side, out of the way of the others, and curl into a ball.

She wanted to stay here, hide, until... until... well, until all was well again. She wanted to be back home, with her child, sitting at their table, laughing it off as a crazy dream.

"Mom?"

Slender warm arms wrapped around her shoulders. Needles of pain shot through her, jolting her back into the here and now. She must have shown something of it, because the arms let go immediately.

"Ma'am, are you OK?"

Opening her eyes was hard, so hard. She didn't know the woman's voice, and she didn't care to see who it was or what she wanted. But she had heard Petal again. Maybe she was there.

"Petal?"

"Ma'am, we have to go. Let me help you up. It isn't safe, we're not safe."

She looked into the worried dark eyes of her eldest child, saw the fear there. Fear for her. Trying to put on a bright smile and only failing a little, she wrestled herself back into a sitting position. There was another woman behind Petal, shielding them from the people running through the hallway. Xandra peeked around Petal's back, her eyes wide with terror.

"I'm Willow," the woman said, reaching out a hand. She didn't shake it. She couldn't. It would hurt too much. Petal came to the rescue.

"This is my mom, Giselle. I think—I think she's been hurt. They took her. They—"

Her voice broke.

So Petal had noticed. She had known.

The woman's — Willow's — blue eyes softened.

"Let me help you up. The guards will know that we've escaped, and we have to get to the portal before they lock the place down. Can you walk?"

She didn't want to, but she knew Willow was right. She was outside of her cell. There was no time to wonder how that could happen. If she wanted to stay free, and yes, she knew she never wanted to go back in there again; she had to let them help her.

Grabbing the proffered hand, ignoring the sharp pain in the cuts and scrapes on her arms, she let herself be pulled back onto her feet.

Xandra clung to one hand, her grip tight. Too tight, but it felt marvelous at the same time. She didn't want to lose her a second time. Not in this forsaken place. Willow took her elbow with a gentle care that spoke of years of practice, and guided them back into the flow, shielding her from the others as well as she could.

"Come on!"

The voice that rang out over the noise of running footsteps and murmuring and weeping of the people was young, but it came from a youth in the shining blue armor or the higher-ranking soldier classes. She wanted to shy back and hide, but her companions held didn't let her.

"In here, we don't have much time!"

The kid turned to his companion, who could have been a mirror image of him, if it weren't for the mass of bruises on his face.

"Shard, get the stragglers. We have to get them all out before they lock the main hub down."

The people in front of her were herded into a room. Another cell? A fresh wave of panic squeezed her throat tight.

"It will be alright," Petal said, the tremor in her voice belying her certainty.

"We'll be fine."

"I—I know. I just need a little more time. Let me... just let me get my breath."

"Ma'am, we don't have time. They'll find out we've escaped any minute now, and then they'll lock down the portals in the hub. All it will take is a sweep through the complex to clean us out—I'm sorry, I don't mean—Look, we don't have time."

She nodded, closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath.

"I don't know if I can do it," she said in a very quiet voice. The hallway was almost empty, though she heard more footsteps in the distance.

"I'm just too tired..."

The boy looked at her, his eyes too wide, his lips drawn too tight. Tension spoke from every inch of his body. He looked young, despite the armor and his attempts at command.

"They took you in for questioning?"

He looked at her and then at the children when he asked the question.

She didn't want to say it. She didn't want any of them to know.

"Yes."

With a resigned sigh, he took a small cylinder from a pocket and held it up.

"This hypo-spray will wake you up a bit. It is a kicker for your heart, so only take it if you're sure you need it. But they say it can revive the dead, if only for a short while, and make them dance a quickstep, so... Be careful, you have only one dose. But if you have to run, take it. We can't wait for you or your kids to catch up. I'm really sorry, but we can't."

She nodded, reached out, but hesitated when she saw how much her hand trembled. Letting it fall back to her side she held it out to Xandra.

"Will you hold this for me for now? It's very special."

"What does it do?"

"I can use it to run really fast, and protect you. It will make me strong."

With trembling lips and a face that shone too pale through her dark skin, she took the small cylinder and clasped her fingers around it.

Giselle looked up at Petal's drawn face.

"Let her hold it for me for now. If I'm slowing you down at a crucial time, you'll administer it to me. I... I don't know if I can do it myself."

"Good," the kid said, "That's settled then. Now get moving!"

He turned and walked back to the doorway.

"What's your name, boy?"

The youth flinched at the use of the word. Touchy about his age? Wanted to be big and responsible? Well, he'd grow out of it.

"Tarsus, ma'am."

"Thank you, Tarsus."

They entered a large room stacked with gleaming silver coffins. They looked like regular coffins to her, but slightly rounded, with transparent domed lids, something you wouldn't often find on a real coffin.

There were other soldiers inside, helping people step in the caskets, closing the lids, then sending them into motion. A steady stream of those silver shapes moved to the other side of the hall, where....

She blinked.

She had heard of things like this. Everyone knew they existed. But the Tyrant's people guarded them with a jealous ferocity. Every one of them was precious, a treasure beyond dreams. But she had also heard they were dangerous. Alive. She had laughed about it. Everyone had. Now that there were three in front of her, all her laughter fled screaming in terror.

Petal's hand squeezed her arm, and Xandra stopped in her tracks. Giselle had seen them as well. It was hard to miss them. Three large holes in the air, purple swirls roiling restlessly, twisting and turning, snaking out and snapping back, forming tendrils of violet energy, thickening into heavy tentacles, then dissipating into air.

They looked like monsters, with those arms waving and searching, and in the middle that darker hole into reality. What was worse was that the lines of coffins floated towards them, until they got snapped up, those arms wrapping around them, and being yanked into that gaping mouth.

"No..." she said. "Oh, no."

"Mom..."

"No baby, we'll find another way."

"Mommy! That... thing... it scares me."

"I know. I don't think I like it either. We can—we can hide. Wait it out. Find another way."

A woman strode up to Tarsus, towering high above him.

"Have you found Patrick?"

He cocked his head, looking up.

"If he wasn't in that crazed mass of humanity I sent your way, then no."

"Shit. Hyram!"

"Must've put him in the top cells, Val."

"We can't hold this hub for long. Once the alarms start, we're fried."

Giselle leaned against one of the open cylinders, her fingers touching and then sinking into the firm gel that made up the interior. With a start, she pulled her hand back and looked at her fingers. Clean and dry, nothing to see there. But for a moment it had felt as if she had dipped her fingers in a nice soothing bath, relaxing her overtaxed muscles and ligaments, easing the pain. What was that? She reached out again, slowly pushing one tip of her finger into the gel. It resisted at first, then slowly, as she increased pressure, it gave way, molding around it.

She shivered and jerked her hand back, wiping her finger on her clothes, even though it once again was clean and dry. It was uncanny. It was too enticing. Imagine letting her entire body sink in that stuff. She might never want to get out!

The woman snatched her helmet off the table, locked it on her head and stalked out, her boots stomping the ground like an angry drum.

"She's right. We have to pack this up and burn the place before they can get anything useful out of it. Tar, get them moving. I'll reroute the portals. We have to get out before—"

He broke off as a new group of people stumbled through the still open door. Three men, all clad in the same bright armor as Tarsus was wearing, carrying their helmets under their arms, walked in, laughing and cajoling, until they saw what was happening inside.

Giselle stared with open mouth, her brain refusing to believe what was happening, frozen to the spot. Almost all the other coffins were gone now, the last men and women jumping into theirs, pulling the lids closed.

"Sound the ala—" The guard's head snapped back, his words cut off by the blast from Tarsus' gun. The other two dove for cover.

"Get down!" Tarsus yelled as he vaulted over a table, flipping it over with a loud crash.

"Everyone, get out, now!"

She couldn't move, she could only stare at the pool of dark red liquid that spread with alarming speed from beneath the crumpled form that had just seconds ago been a laughing, breathing person.

She stood immobile, unable to twitch even a toe, as the bullets started flying around her.

"Mom!"

Glancing to the side, still not able to move anything but her eyes, she saw Petal on the ground, cowering behind a trashcan. Could she go to her? She had to. Xandra clung to her leg, mouth drawn in a line, eyes screwed tightly closed. A mother protected her children! But she couldn't move. And because she stood there, watching helplessly, she saw the two guards look at each other, nod, and jump each into a different direction. She wanted to scream a warning, but it was too late.

The one dove for the emergency button on the wall. Tarsus saw him, aimed and shot, his first hit bouncing harmlessly off the smooth impervious chestplate. The guard's hand slammed through the glass, into the button, at the same time as the second bullet found the still unsealed crack below the helmet, baring just a sliver of the vulnerable neck.

Giselle flinched as the spray of arterial blood fanned out. Then, as sudden as their entrance had been, the other guard was there, appearing in front of her, a knife slashing in her vision.

She reacted more out of instinct than skill, jumping back, narrowly avoiding the blade, but that carried her against an immovable object. Everything seemed to slow, and she saw the smallest details with a clarity as sharp as the edge of the blade that came once more for her. The man didn't have his helmet on and she wondered about his eyes. They were so sad, and yet his mouth was set in a grim line of determination.

He shouldn't have to be sad, she thought with a detached feeling of wonder.

He could just choose not to kill her. There, no need to be sad anymore.

There was nowhere for her to flee to. She couldn't step out of the way, he would notice Xandra, and she was utterly helpless against this violent monster. It was her or her little one. Not really a hard choice to make.

The arm descended with agonizing slowness, and she marveled at it. Why so slow? She heard a sound, like... almost music. Sweet, sad, music, high and clear. There had been no music before, so where did it come from? Did everyone who was about to die hear it? It was so lovely and bitter sweet. She wished he would pause his attack so she could listen to it a little more.

Looking him in the eye was too much for her. There was too much regret in them. The dark blue gem in his forehead pulsed with the music, or maybe it only looked like that.

This was it then. Only one directly to go, one last thing to try.

Her lips formed the word 'Xandra', as she closed her eyes and stepped in, towards the blade, her arm coming up between them, so terribly, terribly slow. And yet, it was fast enough. She hit his hand with hers, her momentum slapping the hand aside, the wickedly sharp blade scraping her collarbone and upper arm, just as her head slammed into this.

Fireworks exploded in her head as she felt the skin of her forehead split open, and she feared her skull had as well, because blinding light flooded in.

His weight dropped away, but she was too dazed to notice it.

Her face felt as if it were on fire. The pain was more than anything she had ever experienced, and that included the tender ministrations of the Tyrant's minions during the last days. It singed her nerves, flowing out from her face to the tips of her fingers in electric currents.

Concussion, she thought, wiping the blood from her eyebrows in an effort to clear her vision. Every time she touched her head, more stars exploded.

Her ears rang with a mixture of that strange music and a siren. The alarm. She remembered now that guard had triggered the alarm.

"Get in the transport pod," someone said. The kid. She knew his name. Tarsus. That was it.

Her vision blurred, doubling over, then splitting into more and more fragments, only to snap back together again.

He opened the lid and boosted her up.

"This place will lock down tight any second now. I have to go. Make sure you go through the portals quickly. I've rigged them to explode in two minutes."

Wait, explode?

"Xandra? Petal? Where are—Where are they?"

She tried to sit up again, but the gel held her tight, sealing around her. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around something hard. She did not know what. It was impossible to lift her arm and look at it, or to release her grip.

"Mom, I'm here. I'm getting in a pod. Xandra, hurry—"

She had just enough give to turn her head toward Petal's voice. The guard who she had thought incapacitated rose from his crumpled heap on the ground, behind a frozen Xandra. His face was a bloody mask, his teeth bared in an inaudible snarl. One of his hands wrapped effortlessly around her neck.

Giselle wanted to scream, wanted to jump out of this coffin, but the lid came down. Tarsus moved back, his gun trained on the man, but he was walking backwards. Why was he walking backwards?

"Mommy!"

"Shut up!"

"Now let the girl go, or I'll shoot you."

How could Tarsus' voice be this calm? That monster had her baby!

"I'll swear I'll kill her if you don't put down that gun!"

"Easy there. Don't hurt her. You have nowhere to run."

She heard Tarsus moving further and further away from her. What was he doing?

The lock-down. He was going to get out and leave them here. How could he do that?

"I'll shoot you, even if that means hurting the girl," Tarsus said with a voice devoid of any emotion. How could he not care? Screaming didn't work. With every labored breath she took, something other than oxygen entered her lungs. A sedative. No! She had to get out!

Her coffin — transport pod — lurched into motion, sliding towards the nearest portal. She got a last look at Tarsus, standing in the doorway, his gun still trained on the guard. She saw his struggle, his desire to walk back in, take down the guard and help them escape. But at the same time, that would probably doom him. There were no ready transport pods left, and the other guards would be here to capture or kill him. Or the explosion would.

Any choice he had was a bad one, and she saw it clearly in his face.

"Mom!"

Petal's voice came from far away, barely piercing the mist that was forming in her mind.

"He has Xandra he has Xandra he has—"

Petal's voice broke off as her lid came down, sealing with an angry hiss.

With an effort that felt herculean, she opened her eyes — they must have fallen closed — and looked at her little girl. She should feel something. Panic? Distress? Instead, her mind was calm, her body heavy and relaxed, sinking deeper and deeper into a welcome, cool numbness.

And with that distant frame of mind she saw Xandra bite her lip, stamp one foot as hard as she could on the guards instep, and push herself and the shocked guard backwards, towards a portal.

A fat ribbon of purple energy snaked out, wrapped around the both of them, and with no further sound or struggle, thrusting them into its waiting maw.

She would be next, but that thought slid off her like water from a waxed surface. She didn't care, couldn't care, even though she suspected going inside that... thing... without the protection of a metal shell like hers would be terminally bad. Her baby was gone. She should weep about that, but her eyes fell closed again and her breathing deepened, for the first time in days going smooth, without effort or pain.

It was alright. It would all... be... alright...