"Ready?"

Three silent nods.

Dex took a small strip out of a pocket in their arm and waved it under Pikkins' nose. The blond, wounded soldier's eyes darted open ... too wide, one pupil much larger than the other. He gave them another lopsided smile.

"Are we going home?"

Trent caught Axel and Freya exchanging glances out of the corner of his eye again. But he didn't care.

"Not yet Pikkins." His mouth felt dry, he was a monster for doing this.

"Going home is going to involve a lot of running," Dex said, mustering a small smile that fell flat in their current situation, "a lot of sneaking and a lot of pretending."

"And I'm in no shape?" Pikkins made an effort to sit up straighter, "Good—good call ... just give me a weapon and leave me here."

"What are we? Tectans?" Freya snapped, her voice breaking a little, "We're not leaving you here to die!"

"No," Trent admitted, "We're—I'm going to do something stupider." He should have just said crueller. It was the more honest word.

One of Pikkins' eyes darted to Trent's gun and then back at him, but the silence amongst his team remained as loud as ever.

"Pikkins, " Trent began, "you're bleeding into your brain." He swallowed again, his mouth was incredibly dry, "and very soon you're going to pass out and ... never wake up again."

No one spoke.

"I asked Dex to wake you up so we'd get a chance to say goodbye before you go," he confessed. It wasn't really a lie, in fact, it was why he was doing it in front of everyone. "But also because I want to ask you a few things."

He turned to Pikkins, properly facing the man he was about to kill for the first time. Half his lips were trembling, the other half, like most of his face was just drooping.

"There are a few things you need to know first, soldier." The calmer Trent exhibited himself, the worse he felt, "None of us blame you!" He tried to show his earnestness as best he could, this wasn't Pikkins' fault! It wasn't very fair either, "Those savages hurt you, tortured you ... none of us are trained to withstand that!" He paused, taking a breath to calm himself first, "Two," Trent continued, "if you panic while I ask you, soldier, you're only going to die faster."

Pikkins nodded slowly, still silent.

"What did you tell them, Jacob?" Using his first name sounded alien, but it was personable. And Trent had to be as calm and delicate about this as he could.

"Captain," Pikkins began, but his voice broke almost instantly. He paused. Taking in a long, deep breath before he spoke again, "I tried ... I swear!"

"We know," Dex said, rubbing Pikkins' shoulder gently, "no one blames you."

"I blame me," Pikkins insisted, attempting and failing to lean forward. He clutched his chest with a small gasp before looking back at Trent. The fear in his face replaced by a complete lack of emotion, "I'm really going to die." It was a statement.

Trent didn't know what he could say to make this situation any better for either of them. So he looked back at his second lieutenant, trying not to give away the revulsion he felt. The misery. The guilt.

Pikkins took in a small breath before he spoke, "They wanted to know how we communicate with the Absolute Rule so far from base." His voice was flat and emotionless, like a soldier with no purpose ... a soldier who had admitted defeat.

"What did you tell them?" Trent asked quietly.

Pikkins attempted a smirk, but only one side of his mouth moved. It left Trent sick to his stomach, but he maintained his impassive face. He wasn't going to make this worse for the dying soldier.

"I told them that it had to be through my communicator," Pikkins declared, still sneering.

Trent grinned back, Pikkins had lied. The communicator alone wasn't enough. The Absolute Rule had absolute knowledge of its people. There was no way you could fool it and pretend to be someone from the colony. Voice patterns, faces, and even their DNA were all part of the information every citizen had to give at birth and constantly thereafter.

"Do you know what their plan is?" Trent then asked, reverting to his kind smile again.

"Tank," Pikkins said and rest his head on Dex's shoulder.

"Tank?" Trent frowned, unsure if Pikkins meant the giant, canon-shooting vehicle or if it was code for something else.

But there was no response.

"Pikkins?" Dex nudged their wounded friend slightly only to have his head roll the other way. Pikkin's eyes were still open, unblinking. Trent's chest tightened as a wave of panic spread amongst the other three. "Move!" Dex shoved Axel and Freya aside and lay Pikkins flat on his back.

"Dex, stop," Trent called. His voice had lost all of its volume.

Dex interlocked their fingers and began pressing down on Pikkins' chest in rapid intervals, and Trent was almost certain he could hear the medic humming too.

"Dex!" Trent called again, as loud as he could manage, "Let him go. It's okay."

"No!" Dex's voice broke but they continued compressing Pikkins' chest, stopping every so often to blow into the motionless soldier's mouth.

"What is the point of reviving him?" His voice was wavering a little, and as much as he hated letting the others hear it, he didn't stop. "He's bleeding into his brain, Dex. Let him go ... please," he added.

Dex stopped to look straight into Trent's eyes and he knew they weren't going to forgive him. He had killed Pikkins after all. But they said nothing and instead turned to each of the others next. Freya was silently sniffing while Axel didn't bother holding back the flurry of tears.

Trent watched his medic take a long, deep breath once, twice and then slam the floor with their fist. The beanie came off next and was tossed into a pile of crates with a soft 'thump.'

Dex stormed away, kicking every crate with a loud 'CRASH' behind them. Freya stood up automatically.

"No," Trent said, louder than he had wanted, "let them grieve." He stood up, "I'm going to go look for a tank," he announced. It was all he could do to ensure Pikkins' death didn't go to waste.

Trent made his way back to the hole in the wall, letting out a shuddering breath once he was alone. He couldn't focus on Pikkins anymore. He may have killed the poor lad but if he didn't pull himself together, he would end up killing everyone. They depended on him. Their families depended on him.

The hole in the wall opened a narrower hallway. A door stood ajar on one side, letting in moonlight, and a set of emergency stairs were on the other. Trent studied the stairs silently for a minute before turning to the opposite side.

It would be foolish to walk through this door. They may have been on a higher floor, but it wouldn't stop the Tectans from storming in. The savages had attempted to create an inescapable prison for his team after all.

Trent stood beside it instead, peering through the crack as best as he could. There were definitely far too many soldiers to take on and survive. Not unless they had explosive devices and could ambush the Tectans from all sides. With their limited resources, it was impossible. Trent's original plan would have to do.

But that wasn't why he was here.

He craned in neck in every possible direction. Pikkins had mentioned a tank. Trent hoped it had meant they were going to use a tank to force their way into his colony. Yet he saw no tank, not even half a portion of one. All he saw was soldiers carrying supplies to a large shuttered building.

Trent studied the size of the shutter as a Tectan walked past it. The building could definitely be large enough to house a tank, but there was no guarantee it did. He would have to listen in to a conversation, and that was going to be an impossible feat from up here.

It lined with his original plan though.

If they dressed up as Tectans and were cautious enough, they could get closer. Once they got closer they just needed an airtight, shuttered vehicle to speed away in. Light or Vines wouldn't bother them then.

It was a perfect plan.

All they needed was said vehicle. A tank would have been ideal. Even if it was a pre-Event tank, it would have a pressurising system in place to prevent chemicals from entering. And if it had a way to communicate with the base, and let them know what was going on, they could go home!

"Captain?"

Trent drew a knife and spun far too quickly, reflexes kicking in before his mind registered the word. He lowered the knife with a long exhale. Dex stood a few feet away, both arms and eyebrows raised.

Trent cast one more look out the door before turning to his medic, "Not here," he whispered, and led them back to the longer, darker hall where Pikkins had taken his final breath. When they were a good distance away from both Pikkins and the door, Trent jerked his chin up to usher Dex to continue.

"Did you find a tank?"

Trent shook his head, there wasn't much else to say really. He didn't think an apology would make the situation any better either.

"But it has to be there!" Dex cast a frantic look at the door, "Pikkins said tank."

Trent nodded, "I know," he said, "I noticed all the Tectans carrying supplies, maybe it's to this tank?"

Dex's face relaxed a little, as did most of their body, "You believe him." They let out a small breath of air.

"A tank makes perfect sense," Trent said with another nod, "they want to force their way into our colony and take over, maybe destroy the Absolute Rule while they're at it."

Dex frowned, "You can't destroy the Absolute Rule," they snapped.

"Maybe," Trent agreed, "but it's not worth the risk. More importantly," he confided, "I saw a building across this one. It's large enough to house a tank. That's where everyone seems to be going."

Dex's face hardened, "Then that's where we should go, Captain!"

Trent nodded, casting a look at Axel still sobbing by Pikkins' side, "All of us."

(1758 words)
(Tally: 8162 words)