We don't sleep much. There's no time to sleep.

We don't talk much either. It's not necessary. You don't tell funny childhood stories when the future you spend together is restricted to a few hours. And you don't make promises either. But we touch a lot. That's what we've got.

The morning arrives too fast. There's no way to trick the first rays of the sun. We have to trick ourselves to accept that we have to go. To do so, we set up some rules.

First. We don't get emotional. That's easy. We're both professionals.

Second. We part ways when we step out the door. Easy too. And absolutely necessary.

Third. We don't say goodbye. Because that would probably lead to breaching point one.

Easy.

We dress up without looking at each other. He opens the door. We step out. We turn our backs on each other. We take a few steps. Then we turn back at the same moment, he takes me in his arms, and we kiss until we're both breathless.

"You were right," I tell him, "it led to pain."

"Yeah," he sighs. "But I hope it will keep you from fading."

"If this can't, nothing can," I admit.

"Don't cry," he instructs me, in his best supreme commander tone.

"I don't." I shrug. "It will be an honor to guide you to your death."

He almost says something, but then he just shakes his head.

"We're not very good at sticking to the rules today," he mutters finally, caressing my face.

"True," I agree. "I'm never very good at it, though."

"I noticed." He grins. "Okay. Now let's go. Everybody's waiting for us."

"It's not very fitting," I protest.

"Fitting? For what?"

"For famous last words." I shrug.

"Please, stop it."

"Slightly better, but still not quite there."

He sighs, shaking his head. Then he leans closer, and whispers it to my ears. Then he grabs my shoulders, turns me around with an irresistible force, and even gives me a small push, to make me move.

I don't look back. I march directly to the control room.

Timur is already there, waiting for me. I slump down on the chair and smile at him, to cover my sadness. He smiles back. He doesn't even try to cover it. No wonder. I know already what Duncan Auberon means to him. A little more than a commander he'd die for, and a little less than a son. I'm not sure of the little less part, though.

"I'm ready," I tell him.

"I'm ready too, Madame. Everyone is."

The hangar is full of people again. They are getting ready to go.

The faces are tense. You can feel the uneasiness in the air.

They all have said their goodbyes. Their mind is set on the task they are facing. And the fate that goes with it, probably.

Timur sees it too. He turns the microphone on with a casual move and clears his throat.

"So, here we go again," he says. "It's a beautiful morning, my little birds, isn't it?"

Some faint smiles are appearing on the faces under us. They've probably heard this from him a hundred times already.

"You don't need to worry," he goes on, "we have the Madame Seer here, and she looks positively grounded this morning. So I foresee a swift flight for today, birdies."

The smiles are getting a bit wider.

"So," he says grinning, "I suspect that everything went in order. Or is it a rude question, Madame?"

I sigh and shake my head. Then I look down, at the soldiers. Many of them are facing certain death. The rest of them an almost certain one. Their hearts are as heavy as lead. I don't even need to use my skill on them to tell.

"Why, not at all," I answer with my brightest smile. "I thought you'd never ask."

Timur covers his mouth to muffle his laughter.

"In a way, I should be grateful to the Wasps," I go on, playing the clueless, as if I failed to notice the grinning faces under us, "because, honestly, without their help... erm... threat, a bastion like this would never have given in. Phew."

"Are you implying, Madame," says Timur, "that your night was a plausible side effect of the imminent death of the human race?"

"Well," I muse, rubbing my chin, "in a way, yes. So, while I can't say that Master Auberon made me outright pro-extinction..."

I pause for a few seconds, as if I was just gathering my thoughts, before finishing my sentence.

"... but he gave a strong enough argument."

Timur bursts out laughing by my side. So do the pilots in the hangar. The mood suddenly feels so much lighter.

"Well done, Madame," says Timur, while the jets are taking off, one after another. "It's a pity there won't be any more gigs for us. You're so much better at comedic comebacks than Duncan. But it's the last battle of the human race, right? It's an honor to serve with you, by the way."

"The honor is mutual, Timur," I sigh. "So let's make this last battle a memorable one, shall we? Making sure that there will be people, in fact, staying alive, to remember it, okay?"

He just nods and grabs my hand.

I open the doors of perception.

My mind is flooded with targets at once. I close my eyes, relax my muscles, and concentrate on slowing my breaths down to a much steadier rhythm than my usual one. I learned something new, as it seems. Now I don't even need a life support for it.

That's good. Because today, I must do better than ever.

I'll be guiding two groups of targets. One, that flies to take out the queen. And one that fights for the Gate.

I can do it, I tell myself. Now I know how she does her thing. How the Wasp-queen guides her fighters. When we were one for a second, I saw it. And it's not that much different from what I do with my soldiers. She does it without words. And I do through verbal commands. But we both see what they feel. Our methods are surprisingly similar.

It means to me, that she's not better than me. She can be beaten at her own game.

So that's what I'm going to do.

I let my mind guide me. I don't need to use my imagination, my brain comes up with pictures by itself. I'm a queen. A human one. A worthy opponent for an insect queen.

In my mind, I'm the white queen, and she is the black queen. And the battle is a simple game of chess. No stress. No deaths. No fear. Just pieces, moving on the table.

This way it will be bearable.

When the game is over, though, there can only be one. It's me against her. Queen against queen.

Make or break. Her or me.

So I won't play nice. Today, I will play dirty.

I turn the table around in my mind.

"I will be the black queen, this time," I mumble to Timur, and he doesn't protest.

I feel the hairs on my arms stand on end as I concentrate in her direction for a second.

"Come on, bitch," I groan, loud enough to be heard on the microphone too. But I don't need to apologize to female fighters, their cheering shows that they know what I'm talking about.

I let my mind expand even further, sensing the other queen on the perimeter of my map. I don't go any closer. I don't want her to notice me. By the way, it's not me who needs to get closer to her this time. It's the suicide squad, led by my bright little dot. They are already on their way, approaching the target. And I will make their journey as easy as I can.

"You're dead, bitch," I whisper, so that no one can hear it. You're dead for taking my man away from me.

I sense the Wasps closing on the Gate, too. I clear my throat and address the main forces.

The battle has started.