"Master Auberon is here," Timur announces. "He's going to talk to you."

The permanent murmur quiets down in a second.

We're in the control room. The people of the Gate are gathered together in the hangar, under us. Everyone is there. The pilots, the personnel, the on-duty, the injured. Everybody. All of us. Together.

All of us, who will die tomorrow, together.

Master Auberon leans closer to the microphone, putting his hands on the desk. He doesn't sit down. That just wouldn't be him.

The soldiers are watching him with adoring eyes. There's obviously nothing in the world they wouldn't do for him.

"The Madame Seer obtained an invaluable piece of information for us," he starts his speech. "Finally, after all those months trying to protect ourselves, we have a chance. Now it's our turn to attack."

The whole army nods as one.

"Most of you already know what to expect," he goes on, "because news travels fast. And I know too, that I don't need to ask for volunteers to fly with me to take out the queen. I already have more than enough people for this mission without asking. Thank you."

I can't help but shake my head. In my humble opinion, some too many youngsters are eager to die for him without a second thought. He must have been right. My way of thinking avoids dead ends by default.

With him, my brain corrects itself in a second. It's not for him. It's with him.

It doesn't make my mood any lighter.

"And those who will stay here tomorrow to fight for the Gate," he says, "you'll be defending the last outpost of the human civilization. Your task won't be any less crucial. And not any less dangerous either."

I nod. It's something I already know. And, I add mentally, they won't be any less hard to navigate than ever before. The real battle for humanity only starts after the suicide squad succeeds. If they succeed. If they don't, we're all dead by default.

When I catch myself involuntarily building up a strategy for tomorrow, I grin bitterly. My mind still does what needs to be done, regardless of my feelings. I'm still a Seer, no matter what. I can accept our inevitable death, and work against it, at the same time. It's something the Seer's credo really should cover. Cognitive dissonance. That's what makes a fucking Seer.

Master Auberon takes a deep breath, getting to the point where he'd probably stop if he wasn't the last bastion of hope and other nonsense. But he is. So he just can't sugarcoat the facts.

"I won't lie to you," he declares. "There's only a slight chance of winning. But it's our last chance, slight or not. There won't be another. We have to take it. Early in the morning, we'll be out there."

I sigh. So he wants to give them another night to live. A very last opportunity to arrange everything that needs to be arranged. To tell what needs to be told. To do what needs to be done. To prepare properly for what's to come.

In a way, it makes everything even harder. In another way, it's the only humanistic solution to an unsolvable dilemma.

"So," he says, "you might want to spend this night with your friends. Or the person you feel closest to."

The soldiers in the hangar seem a bit confused. They are still waiting for something, a command, maybe, to start living ferociously, trying to condense everything they ever wanted into a few hours. They are talking to each other, forming pairs, or groups, some holding hands, some hugging, but still standing around.

"Dismissed," Mater Auberon directs them, turning his back on the glass wall. Now he's sitting on the desk, hanging his head. He looks kind of catatonic. Or simply lacking the strength to go away. Just like me, honestly, after a successful mapping.

I clear my throat.

"It was a nice speech. It left me wondering, though, if it goes for bastions of whatever too, or you have other plans."

He doesn't answer. That's good. I wasn't expecting him to, either.

"I'm also wondering," I go on, "about whom do you feel yourself close to. But you don't have to answer, your posture shows that the answer is to no one."

I notice that the people, scattered in the hangar, are watching us again. Timur probably forgot to turn the microphone off. But it doesn't matter. It won't keep me from telling what needs to be told.

"You're right," he answers, looking up.

He's not flinching in the least. He's not trying to give me an explanation, either. And, as crazy as it sounds, I can't help but admire him for it, even if his beautiful mental strength is getting in the way at the moment.

But I don't flinch either. I stare back without blinking.

"It's unfortunate," I tell him in the face, after a slight pause. "Because I could use some grounding, if you know what I mean."

He looks at me in a way that would make any person with a weaker heart drop down dead.

"Please, stop glaring, it's only logical," I reason on. "Tomorrow I will guide more targets than ever. And, what's even riskier, I'll do it without you by my side. So I need some... preemptive measures."

His death glare isn't getting any softer. If he saw what I see, the soldiers down there, covering their mouths to muffle their mirth, he'd probably break my arm again. Or both of my arms. Or my legs too, just to make a point.

"Some very deep, substantial and meticulous preemptive measures," I go on. "Or else, I can't guarantee anything."

The people in the hall are getting louder. Some incredulous laughs are escaping their mouths, but most of them are just standing there, looking totally astonished. When Timur catches my glance, he just shrugs, hiding his grin. Master Auberon is too deep in his thoughts to notice anything.

"I can't do it," he says finally, after a long, contemplative break. "It would only lead to inevitable pain."

"Wow, are you really that big?" I ask him, with proper reverence in my voice.

He still doesn't look amused. His gaze promises blood and tears.

But his soldiers are. They can't contain themselves any longer. They all burst out laughing at the same moment. And not only that. They also have an opinion on what their honored supreme commander should do to ensure the success of tomorrow's mission. And they are not keeping it for themselves. They are letting him know. In various, not very subtle ways. They are loud and creative. Some of their suggestions would deserve a closer consideration in my opinion, if we had the time.

But they are not directed to me, so I just shut up, and smile innocently, as if I had no idea why they are shouting like a bunch of sex-deprived teenagers, seeing their first porn movie ever.

When the cheering of the crowd breaks into Master Auberon's bubble, his face turns even darker. But he's as quick as always. He turns away from me and looks at Timur with murderous intent.

"What?" Timur asks. "Yeah, I could have turned it off. But it's the last fucking evening of our lives, sir. We deserve a laugh. And it's good for morale."

Master Auberon snorts indignantly and buries his face in his hands. The soldiers in the hangar go wild, cheering and whooping, chanting and whistling, and, first and foremost, encouraging him to do it.

But he doesn't. He just stands there, with his eyes closed, refusing to even look at me.

I sigh. At the moment, he looks like an impassable bastion of rejection. But I know better.

"You probably noticed that my life strategy is not about avoiding pain," I tell him. "I certainly noticed that yours isn't either."

He still doesn't say anything. I sigh and fold my arms on my chest.

"And it's not only pain I'm not afraid of," I go on, "I'm also brave enough to make a fool of myself in front of everyone. So I might be fearless enough for even a very bright dot, whom I fell for the very moment I saw him on my map. See, how fearless I am? And I'm not accepting bullshit. The only reason I accept is that you don't want me."

He finally looks at me. Again, someone with weaker nerves probably would hide under the table to escape from his gaze. But I just raise my brows.

"Once you offered me to use you any way I want. Now I've found a way. But if you think that I will stand here and beg you all night, trying to make it sound as if fucking me was your duty, just to save you from—"

I can't finish the sentence. The next moment he jumps me. Literally. Like a pouncing, starved predator.

He sweeps me off my feet. Again, in a literal sense of the word. In a blink of an eye, our positions are reversed. I'm lying on the desk, next to the radar, and he's on top of me, pinning me down, kissing me hungrily.

My mind goes blank in a second.

Alas, it comes back to a fully operational mode in another, when he grabs my thighs and pushes himself between them, trying to get rid of the various layers of clothes between us.

It's quite clear that his brain turned itself off. And while I applaud the sudden change, it's also evident that he's too carried away to notice where we are. His vision is narrowed on me, and if I let him, he's going to take me right here, on the desk, next to the radar.

"Hey, if you think that if we really do it here, in front of everyone, it will make them stop worshipping you, you're wrong," I tell him. "They would just worship you more, so I think we should..."

The only answer I get is a gentle bite down on my nipple, so it doesn't take much to notice that he's not in a coherent enough state of mind to understand long sentences like this.

"To your room," I instruct him, caressing his face to catch his attention.

This works. He picks me up, keeping my legs wrapped around his waist, and he carries me to his quarters.