The Streib ship was gone. Gideon saw no spacesuits or breathers around. He couldn't even spot an airlock. Apparently the Streib didn't enjoy hiking on the surface in their free time. He tried contacting the Excalibur, and still received only static. The jamming was effective here as well. They'd have to get out of the complex. Besides, the guards were probably still on their tail, and after a while, they'd burst through the door and start shooting again.

Gideon turned to look at Galen. There was a faint trace of blood on the wall where he had rested his back against it and slid down to sit on the floor – the stab wound in his back had begun bleeding again. Another trickle of fresh blood was making its way down his chin. His face was ashen, his lips bluish. When Gideon took hold of his wrist to check his pulse, he just stared ahead with a mildly stupefied expression. After an amazingly long fight, it seemed shock was finally taking over. But Gideon couldn't let it happen. They were so near already.

"Galen. Look at me. We're almost out. The only thing that stands between us and help from the Excalibur is getting out of this room. We have to find a way."

Galen closed his eyes and nodded. He was shivering. "Cold in here..." he muttered.

"It's probably even colder out there. We'll need spacesuits, or air, or some kind of protection. Can you take care of that?"

"Shield."

"That might work, I really don't know. You still with me, Galen?"

"I'm trying – concentration and control – I'm not good at shields-"

Gideon sighed. They had no time. Maybe Galen could do a shield that would help, maybe he couldn't, maybe he was just too out of it to do anything anymore. Gideon's leg certainly didn't feel good, not like anything he'd be able to walk on, but he had to. He pulled Galen's hands over his shoulders and started hauling him across the room towards the opening with the force field, hunched and limping.

Galen was losing, and he knew it. His mind was fluttering between the dismal reality, Matthew dragging him on across the Streib hangar, and the memory, the dream, the delirious image of Elric giving a lesson, explaining to him about shield spells, and telling him to do it and keep going. Galen was no good at shields. Translating them to his spell language of equations didn't work at all. Except that in the reality, he no longer had a spell language, and he wasn't a chrysalis-stage student anymore. And yet he was, and Elric was there, behind him, holding the chrysalis, ready to override, stop it all if something went wrong.

It was so cold he couldn't stop shivering. He knew it was a sure sign of shock. Too much blood lost, and yet not lost at all, only misplaced, still inside him, gathered in his chest, keeping him from breathing normally. Everything was going wrong, and there was no way anyone could step in, override and stop it. It wasn't just about Galen's life. Matthew's was at stake as well, and he needed Galen's help. Needed that shield spell. No matter how difficult it was. Besides, Matthew's leg was injured. He shouldn't be forced to carry Galen like this. There was nothing wrong with Galen's feet, he should walk on his own, he should help Matthew.

Gideon cursed. Galen was probably heavier than he was. Luckily it wasn't a long way. And then, halfway across, Galen suddenly came to again.

"Matthew, let me," he whispered, and eased himself away from his hold, keeping again only one arm around his shoulders, and trying to get additional support from his staff.

They reached the force field. Gideon poked a finger at it, and encountered what felt like static electricity that resisted his touch. "Galen, get ready with that shield. I'm going to get rid of this," he said, waving his hand at the opening. He pointed his plasma rifle at the control panel and fired. The force field disappeared, and a gust of cold wind blew in from the surface, carrying red sand with it.

Something blue and faintly shimmering enveloped them, and Gideon didn't feel the harsh wind anymore. Galen had again succeeded in creating a shield, and the air inside it felt perfectly normal, though outside, the air in the hangar was quickly being replaced by the planet's low-oxygen atmosphere. Galen's eyes were tightly shut again, his hand pinching Gideon's shoulder so hard that it hurt.

Gideon took a step towards the red plain outside, and his leg gave in. They both fell to the ground, but the shield still held. Gideon managed to stand up again, and offered Galen his arm. Another step forward, and a third one, a fourth. They were out of the hangar, surrounded by a vast, red emptiness. They sank to the ground again, back to back, and Gideon tried his link.

"Captain! Good to hear your voice, sir!" Matheson's anxious reply came quickly. Gideon's lips turned into a wide smile.

"Likewise, Lieutenant – you have no idea... John. Can you home in on this signal? We need a shuttle here, right now. And send Doctor Chambers."

"Just hang on in there. Help's on the way. The shuttle should reach you in fifteen minutes."

Gideon sighed. Fifteen minutes was an awfully long time. "You'd better hurry up," he added in a low voice.

Then it was silent again, except for the howling of the wind, the almost inaudible hiss of sand hitting their shield, and Galen's fast and shallow breathing, every now and then distorted by a cough.

"Fifteen minutes, Galen. We've made it this far, surely we can do that."

He received no response. He had no watch, no way of knowing how much time had passed. Or hadn't passed. It had probably not been a minute yet.

"Galen? You still there?"

"Elric?"

Gideon knew Elric had been Galen's teacher, quite a while ago, a powerful techno-mage. It beat him how Galen could think they sounded alike. "No, not Elric. Gideon. Matthew. Captain of the Excalibur. The stray you once saved. More than once."

Gideon moved around so he could see Galen's face. Without Gideon's back against his, Galen fell limply to the ground.

"Matthew?" – hack – "Thirteen" – gasp – "minutes-" he managed, in the present again, though his eyes were gazing blankly at the sky above.

"Thirteen minutes. Just keep up the countdown. Concentrate on it."

Gideon couldn't think of much to say that would make any sense or do any good at all, but the near-silence was oppressing. Gideon had the horrible feeling that each breath Galen took was weaker than the one before it, fading ever so slightly.

"Galen? Are we there yet?" he asked, in vain attempt to lighten up the mood.

"Twelve."

Still there. Good. Gideon decided he'd better keep talking. "Guess the guards won't come after us when they notice the force field's been blow away and we're out here."

Silence again. Galen was staring straight at him, but somehow he had the feeling that what he saw was something else. The shield was blinking, and a breeze of cold air came through, but then it stabilized again.

"Yeah! You can do this, Galen. Just stay with me."

But Galen was shaking his head now, looking desperate. "No – Elric – asking – too much-"

That sounded really scary, Gideon thought. "Galen. Matthew here, remember. We don't have much longer to wait, probably just ten minutes."

"Eleven-"

"One minute here or there. Maybe they'll be early. Trace might be annoying, but he really is a good pilot."

"Matthew – sorry – can't-" Gideon wasn't sure whether Galen was saying he couldn't hold the shield anymore, or that he couldn't breathe. Either way, the results would probably be pretty much the same. A particularly bad fit of coughing hit him. With Gideon's help, Galen turned over to one side, so he could get the blood out. Then he lay back again, and closed his eyes.

A gust of icy wind struck Gideon's face. The blue glow had vanished completely. Their shield was gone. Ten minutes to go. There was oxygen here, so they might just survive that long in the planet's atmosphere. They had to.

He couldn't hear Galen's breathing anymore. He placed his cheek over Galen's face and felt air moving against it, but that could've been just the wind – he couldn't see his chest move at all. Gideon laid his ear on his chest, and heard nothing. Not a whisper of breath. Not even a heartbeat. He sought the pulse from Galen's neck, and to his surprise and relief, found it, still there, though weak and rapid.

Breathing wasn't all that easy for Gideon either, now that the shield was gone. The sand was everywhere, he felt it in his nose and his mouth, stinging in his eyes, and adding an annoying tickling to the constant dull burning in his leg. The air was thin, like high up in a mountain. And the wind was cold, freezing cold. He knew they should gather more closely together, to share body heat, but he was suddenly feeling too tired to move. He stayed where he was, his ear resting on Galen's frighteningly silent chest.

A dark red fog was creeping into his peripheral vision. There wasn't enough air, he couldn't breathe. He wondered if this was what Galen had went through during their escape.

Gideon felt something warm on the side of his face that faced the cold sky. A moment later, a bright light pierced his rapidly narrowing field of vision. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, but no, it had to be real. Day was dawning.

Just as the first rays of Sozirja's sun lighted the desolate red plain, Gideon gave in to the red darkness.