"Plausible deniability."

The words echoed in Thora's head with a pulse of rage. Those fuckers, she thought bitterly. Her mouth curled down in frustration and hatred.

She followed the ragtag group up the black street toward the extraction point. They moved as silently as they could, all of them shaking with fear and looking over their shoulders. Flanking them were equally frightened men clutching what weapons they had in trembling hands. Thora herself brought up the rear, one sturdy staff in her hands the only protection she had against the scourge.

This morning an announcement had come on all radio stations and television networks. It blared in every corner of the world, was plastered across every newspaper, and still nobody had believed it. Invasion was imminent, they said. The Powers That Be had kept everything a secret, just hinting at their operations in popular television shows. When asked why they'd chosen that particular outlet to both warn and soothe the masses, the general facing the press conference had said "Plausible deniability."

Few had heeded the warning. Most of them still remembered stories about a radio broadcast inciting panic decades ago. They'd rolled their eyes and huffed a little at the pitiful excuse for humor.

Nobody was laughing now.

Countless people had been swept up in bright beams of light. Ships hovered overhead, and she could hear a screaming above them as jets waged furious and ultimately futile battle with the smaller aircraft. Power grids had been the first to go. Worldwide communication had been blacked out. From the broadcasts earlier people recalled emergency extraction locations, and whatever survivors remained were making their way toward the meccas of salvation. The 'gates, as the general had called them, would be shut down in one hour and the facilities that held them destroyed so there could be no possibility of the creatures following them to their safe havens.

Thora wasn't sure they could make it.

On her back Guy mewled from his pack. She'd been unable to leave the runty cat behind and feared turning him loose. She hoped to convince one of the people she was herding toward safety to take him on once they reached the threshold. There was no way all of them would make it. They were on a huge time crunch, and Thora was expecting to encounter resistance along the way.

Speaking of.

The heavy boots signaled their enemies' approach. She let out a low whistle, and the man on her left guided the bulk of their group toward a burnt-out storefront. There they huddled and waited for their pursuers to pass. She herself took up residence behind a stack of smashed produce crates.

Thud. Thud. Thud. The heavy footsteps were in time with her thundering heart. She wasn't afraid for herself. Friends and family had already escaped or been destroyed. She had no intention of living through this encounter. What she couldn't handle was the idea that her wide-eyed charges would be found and dragged screaming into the street and sucked dry, children murdered in front of their parents or vice versa.

Across the way nobody made a peep. They'd learned their lesson. One of the men, hours ago, had failed to hold in a sneeze. Everyone up to then had been complaining about their discomfort, evidently failing to realize the gravity of their situation. Needless to say the man was no longer with him, and the remaining clutch of people still carried the echoes of his suffering with them. Their idiotic protests had stopped.

Thora wasn't a fighter. She wasn't a soldier. She had a very rudimentary understanding of martial arts, but she had instincts. Her father had been a police officer and one of her ex-boyfriends was military. What little they'd told her was enough for her to hold her shit together now.

The dreaded boots were passing. When she was certain they had passed her location she risked a peek out. Long black coats and white hair fluttered in a breeze filled with the promise of rain. The creatures either hadn't noticed them or didn't consider them a priority. She waited until they had vanished around a corner before quietly whistling the all-clear.

In the shadows her group reassembled. She took up her place at the rear, alongside an older man carrying a shotgun. She'd rather he took point, but understood the group leader's logic: they would hear an approach from behind, but should they run into the aliens head-on it would be advantageous for the only gun in the group to be out of reach.

It was only a few minutes later when she heard the hiss from behind her. "Run!" she screamed. She hadn't turned around yet, but she knew immediately what was behind her and was aware that her moment had come. She tore off her pack and tossed it as gently as she could manage away from the fight. At the sound of her cry people turned around to look and she saw their faces blanch in horror as she spun to meet her fate.

These were the rules. Two fighters from the perimeter would break away and try to hold off the Wraith long enough for the others to escape. She heard the roar of the shotgun beside her and yelled for the man to get behind her.

Three of the things wore those masks and held stunners. The other two stood proud and exposed in the scattered moonlight. One of them, the dark-veined one, dripped dark blood from a tear in his coat.

Thora hefted her staff. This was the moment, she knew. This would be how she died. She wondered briefly which of them it was going to be, then decided it really didn't matter.

Their standoff felt eternal, but something told her it was only a few seconds.

"What do you plan to do?" This from the one with the smooth hair.

She shrugged. "What I can."

"There is no hope." He smiled, a sharp-toothed grimace that flashed in the dark. "I am your death."

She smiled back. "I'm already dead."

With that she charged him. In an ordinary situation it was perhaps the stupidest thing she could do. There was no way for her to survive. Luckily for her, that wasn't part of the plan.

The first blow she landed was pure luck. He hadn't expected the rush, but after he repelled her he was ready. He attempted to circle her, but she was having none of it. She couldn't allow him to get around her, not yet. Even running at their fastest, the group couldn't have managed more than a block by now.

He snarled and sprang at her. Again the shotgun went off, spinning him around on his face. His place was taken by the taller Wraith. He was bulkier than his parter, clearly the stronger of the two. It didn't bode well. The hulking masked creatures advanced on her backup.

C'mon, Thora, she said to herself. All you've gotta do is stay alive for a few minutes. Surely you can manage that. She squared her shoulders. He struck first, quick as a viper.

Block. Block. Thrust. Duck. Crunch. She saw stars and stumbled when his fist struck her temple. Oh, this was no good. Black oblivion tried to suck her down, and Thora crumpled to her knees. She'd never been in so much pain in her entire life.

It was the final shotgun blast and the scream of her comrade that jerked her back to consciousness, shaky and slanted as it was. She could almost feel sections of her skull sliding around in there, and she couldn't see out of one eye. A sticky substance coated the side of her face. She was bleeding profusely.

Where her only other line of defense had been was a withered husk. The lithe one was straightening up.

One drunken step after another took her toward the Wraith that had hit her. He monitored her progress, just waiting. Apparently he hadn't gotten enough entertainment out of the screaming multitudes. When she forced herself upright and lifted her staff again something flashed in his eyes. Sort of a surprise coupled with bewilderment.

Thora smiled through the blood in her mouth. What, they didn't think we'd fight?

On her wrist her watch alarm went off suddenly, beeping shrilly in the silence. Relief tore through her. It was over. It was all over. She hoped that her group had made the 'gate, but even if they hadn't there was nothing left for her to do. Her pain was over, the crushing loss of loved ones a mere memory. Soon she would be joining them in painless oblivion.

Still glaring into the lead Wraith's slitted eyes, she tossed her staff away. It landed with an unimportant clatter on the pavement.

"You surrender, human?" he hissed. "Too weak to carry on?"

Fear was gone, replaced by a serenity she'd only dreamed of. "It's over."

He was about to say something else, perhaps taunt her some more, when the explosion ripped through the city. Fire rose in a column behind her and illuminated her world for the last time. He and his fellow Wraith watched it, wide-eyed. When the glow faded they looked at her.

"What has happened?" the leader snarled at her.

"The 'gate is destroyed," she told him. He could see as much for himself.

He strode to her and lifted her up by her shirt. Hot pain flashed through her head again. "Where are they?" His roar hurt her ears.

"I don't know. Nobody does." Her head was reeling. Blurs of color flashed behind her eyes, tinged with contentment and regret. "They never told us, O Captain My Captain."

He dropped her. She crumpled to her knees. Gods, she was so dizzy. Darkness tugged at her again. Why was she even awake? The question was answered as he kicked her over onto her back. Right. She was still alive. She watched him kneel beside her, hand brandished, and felt nothing but sweet relief. She frowned. There was something...she'd forgotten...

"Wait," she whispered. "My cat."

He snarled. "Your what?"

She pointed in what she hoped was the direction of her pack. She could hear poor Guy mewing in terror. Hopefully it wasn't pain. She couldn't help him anymore. "My friend. He's in...that. Let him out after you kill me. He'll die in there."

Another confused look. She reached up to touch his splayed hand in supplication. "Please."

***

The human wasn't begging for its life. Nor was it despairing under pain of death. He could feel its life slipping away. The blow to its head was mortal. And yet it wanted him to aid an insignificant, whining creature it had somehow cared enough about to save.

In its eyes he had seen a blazing passion, an inferno of rage and hatred. Beneath it all was the usual fear. He understood now that it had felt no fear for itself, but the others it had been protecting. It hadn't expected to survive their encounter. All it had wanted was to keep them at bay until its charges were safe and the 'gate destroyed.

Behind the creature's bizarre eyes was pain, so much pain. Its consciousness had already begun to flicker. All that was keeping it breathing now was its desire to see its friend safe. And it would take his word on whether the thing was done.

Honor. It gave him honor.

He nodded and the creature sighed, somehow happy. It stopped squeezing his fingers and instead drew his feeding hand down onto its own sternum.

In its mind was a vista of sunlight and a tree—a cherry blossom tree, he read from her thoughts. This close to her he couldn't maintain the conscious distance he usually imposed. This human was female. Its boughs spread above her, showering her with sweet scents and soft petals. Then the beach, with its warm water lapping over her feet, the sunset catching the churning waves aflame along the horizon. He saw the first time she'd mated with a human male, all fear buried by a trust in the gleaming eyes above her. The image was confused, rippled, and his own eyes glowed down at her. She frowned in confusion, but accepted it.

She was drifting but aware enough to feel her breath hitch in her chest. He remembered with her the moment of her grandmother's death. She'd been holding the woman's hand and staring into sightless eyes as the torturous slow breaths had dragged in and out before her body released her spirit: one....two...three....the inestimable periods between were a burden on the girl beneath him. She'd wished for this old woman to be free. Now she wished to be free.

The second ragged breath rattled into her lungs and out again.

She anticipated the third, secure in the knowledge that, like her grandmother, the third breath would be drawn and never released. It was her herald. Her agony would end and she would die in calm and joy. Somehow he was included in that. He was cause of her death, and she thanked him for it.

This had never happened before. He didn't understand this human's mind. The images were fading, bleeding into nothingness, and he felt that fabled third breath enter her body. As she'd expected her life slid free. It slipped through his fingers and left him looking down and the broken corpse of the strangest human he'd ever encountered.

His hand was still poised on her chest. His second-in-command stood at his shoulder, just as rattled as himself. The strength of the visions had sucked him under and he had been unable to keep from dragging the other Wraith along. He knew what he meant to do. With a new resolution he spread his hand on her chest again and pushed.

From her mind he heard the roar of a thunderstorm. She was on a porch surrounded by trellises vined with moonflowers, sitting beside her mother. "Don't be afraid of the thunder, Thora," he heard. "It's what you're named for." He forced her back into unconsciousness before her eyes could flutter open.

Named for thunder, he breathed. Her spirit sparked under his hand. "We take her," he told his second.

"Naturally" was the response he received. His second picked up her pack with the trapped organism still inside. It fought furiously and hissed.

He himself lifted the unconscious human. The two retraced their path toward their ship.