When they had arrived back at their apartment, John had half-expected Zaal to take a quick tour, musing about how little they had altered the place. When instead he had simply asked where they could all sit, he buried those musings under the weight of the admiral's seriousness.

He didn't quite know what to make of that. He immediately thought back to the meeting that they'd just left. John wasn't really sure what to think about it all, because so much had happened just since the end of the war. As he'd expected, he found Shala and Zaal the most reasonable, Daro enigmatic (though to be fair, he'd had precious little interaction with her at all), and Han…well, there was something there that he thought he should understand, but didn't.

He was missing a piece of the puzzle, and Shala agreed that something was amiss.

"I do not like this, Zaal. I just…something feels off about this. That was…they were almost too calm? It was like…"

Grabbing sealed drinks for the others and pouring himself a bit of water, John sat next to Tali and slipped her hand into his.

"Thank you, Shepard," Zaal stated, taking a sip of water before turning his attention back to Shala when Tali brought it back to herself.

"I agree with Shala, but…I am conflicted. They are admirals of the fleet. Why would they do anything that would put us all in danger?" Tali was tapping her foot incessantly on the floor. She, too, knew that something was amiss. It was something that she thought should be obvious.

"I don't know. Keelah, I don't know."

John frowned. He felt it, too. Hell, he had said as much to Tali right after the meeting. Knowing that the admirals were coming at this from a different perspective than he was…well, maybe he should bring this back to square one. He cleared his throat.

"Have they always been like that? I mean, my impression of them has been less-than-stellar…but I'm not quarian. Maybe I'm just missing something with them? With Han in particular?" He rubbed tiredly at his cheek. "Han just seemed so angry in there once he was challenged. And as far as I know, that's sort of been just the way he is. But Tali has indicated before that he wasn't always like that, like he used to be more reasonable." He sighed again. "I don't know, maybe it's because I haven't known them that well, but when Han and I were working together…ah hell. I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm not quarian and just don't know what the hell I'm looking at." This time he ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing his scalp in another one of his telltale signs of muted frustration. Tali had seen it before, of course. These were the things that he did, the little "tells" that gave away his true feelings when he was trying to keep his frustration under control.

Tali smiled at him, understanding that nagging frustration as she recalled voicing to him very similar concerns about how Ashley had been acting toward her during her first few weeks aboard the Normandy. Trying to understand the woman's feelings, she'd wondered if it was just something she didn't understand about humans.

"John, it's okay," she said, patting his hand. He smiled at the use of his first name, even (especially?) among Zaal and Shala. "I know what it means to be something of an outsider."

Zaal immediately responded, almost offended at the notion. "Keelah, Tali! He is not an outsider here. In fact -"

She cut him off, knowing that he meant well, but this was not about how they viewed him. "You know that, Shala knows that, I know that. But it is one thing to say that, and the reality is that…well, what we say about it does not matter."

"Tali's right," Shala affirmed. "That is a feeling which only time can provide."

Squeezing Tali's hand, he smiled at them. He really did appreciate the support. "Thanks, all of you. But maybe we should get back on task." John shook his head because, pensive as ever, had a thought strike him. "You know, Han said something to me a couple of weeks ago. It's been bugging me."

Zaal asked the obvious follow-up. "Bugging you? I don't -"

Tali interrupted him. "He means that it's been bothering him." She turned to John with a shrug and a smirk. "No bugs on Rannoch."

He chuckled. "Ah, that's right. Anyway. So, Han said something about how he'd 'made a promise'. He'd said that he was angry that I'd…destroyed the Geth. So I asked him why." Shala and Zaal shared looks of trepidation. Keelah, this did not bode well. "And that was his answer. I never got to ask him what he'd meant; he just stormed out. I've been consulting with Nat'Veral ever since. Do you guys know what he meant?"

Tali bowed her head, trying to rack her own brain looking for answers. Defeated, she shook her head. "I just don't know. What about you Zaal? Shala?"

Shala slumped her shoulders before sucking in a deep breath. "Zaal, do you think…?"

"Keelah, I hope not…but yes. Maybe so."

"Damn it," Shala muttered. She folded her hands solemnly. "Tali, do you remember that while you were away on the Normandy, Han had lost his mate, Jana?"

"Keelah, yes. Of course I do. Well, I remember hearing about it. But I don't see how it…is…relevant…" Her words trailed off as she began to put pieces together. Mouth hanging open, she could only look over to her own mate dumbly. What she saw surprised her. John's face was not the face of confusion. Instead, it looked like he was putting everything together first.

"Shala," he began slowly, hesitantly, "were they together when she…died? Did they get to say goodbye at least?" His face was that of sympathetic stoicism. He now knew, from Piara at least, that the effects of felz'elt could be tempered with time and the ability to say goodbye to the other half of one's soul - to at least have a measure of closure. If Han hadn't gotten that -

Zaal shook his head, despondent. It appeared that he might be onto Shepard's line of thinking. "Ancestors…Shala, do you see what he is saying?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Shepard, Tali - Han did not get to say goodbye to his Jana when she died. He was on a mission with your father at the time. He only received a message that Jana had joined the Ancestors. It was a…keelah, he only saw what the Geth had left of her." His eyes fell to the table. "It wasn't…it wasn't much. Keelah, it was terrible."

Tali's eyes shot wide open, her hand gripping John's tightly enough to cause him pain that he did not feel. "You mean it was the Geth that killed her?!"

"Fuck me…that's what he meant!" John had nearly yelled as he put it all together. "He told me that he was furious that I'd killed them, that he'd made a promise. Do you think that he -"

"Would've promised Jana that he would kill them all? Because they'd killed her?" Tali had finished the thought for him.

John drummed his fingers on the table. "He's going to use the Array. I guarantee you he will."

"John'Shepard, how are you so sure of -"

"Zaal, I'll tell you a quick story. Now you don't know what happened after I'd gotten aboard the Citadel, but…" Tali held his strong but slightly shaking hand in both of hers, squeezing gently. He thanked her with an appreciative smile. "I made a choice. I chose to destroy them. If I hadn't…it was the only way to…" He trailed off again, lost in his sadness for a moment before finding his saera's eyes and their love and strength once more. Tali leaned her visor on his shoulder, willing him on. "It was the only way I could guarantee a future for Tali…for everyone. But one of the choices the damn AI gave me was to control the Reapers."

Both of the other admirals' eyes widened in shock.

"For a moment, I considered it and discounted it just as quickly. Here's why: Tali. I realized that if anything should happen to her, I would have burned the galaxy to ashes. Do you understand me? I would have done it without a second thought." He bowed his head. "That's why I couldn't have taken that chance."

For a long moment, there was only the silence of gravity, of the awful magnitude of what the man had faced. The only sound was coming from Tali who, despite muting her vocalizer, could be heard trying to stop the crying that had begun even now at being reminded of this again. John turned to her and enveloped her in his arms, rubbing her back to soothe her. He leaned in and whispered into her auditory sensor. "It's okay, my love. I'm sorry I brought it up, but they need to understand something. Remember: I came back to you. I'm right here. I love you, my saera." When he felt the nod of her head against him, he pulled away to see both admirals looking down…not uncomfortably, but respectfully. Even Shala, who knew more about their shared ordeal, had looked down at her lap. After Tali had composed herself again, she left her hand on his, squeezing her fingers tightly between his.

"My point is that if I would have done that, what do you think Han would have done? Do you think that, if presented with the opportunity to make good on his - that promise, if that's what he meant - that he wouldn't do whatever he could? To honor his saera? I mean, he was an admiral. You were debating war with the Geth even then, right?" He did not wait for an answer. "And Han was the most vocal proponent?" He got two quiet nods. "I think he's going to use it."

He expressed it with such finality, with such confidence that it was true.

Zaal and Shala turned to each other, contemplating just what it was that they were suggesting.

Something was bothering Tali though, and she needed to at least express it.

"What about Daro'Xen? What's her role in all of this?"

Zaal huffed. What a daft question! "Isn't it obvious? She only cared about the potential of the thing. She's likely just happy to be -"

Shala interrupted him with a more nuanced take. "I'm not so sure, Zaal. You forget one thing - she had advocated for its use on completely different grounds, remember?" She paused to catch every one of them with her eyes. "She wanted to show that we could defend ourselves against anything - or anyone. Keelah, to use such a device…Zaal, your points against Han are just as true. We cannot afford its use as a show of force, even in defense."

There was a chill to all of this. The sheer magnitude of what they had both proposed would cause chaos on such a scale…

"You know, she never actually told us how she intended to show that force," John mused. He was right, of course. Daro'Xen had given no details, no specifics. Had she intended to make sure that Han's easy genocide became known? Did she plan something else as a warning? And if so, just what the hell was that going to be?

"So…Shepard, Tali…what do you think we should do?"

That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? They had theories and suppositions - all which happened to fit the facts as they knew them. But there was no concrete and actual proof, which meant that they had no reason to outwardly question either Han or Daro. To do so would cause an uproar and call too many things into question - especially as it pertained to their nearly disastrous war with the Geth. No, they had to be taken at their word, and they had accepted the Conclave's orders, at least as far as outside perception was concerned.

John sighed, bristling at the question. "This would be so much easier if we had the Normandy. We could get in and get out without the admirals being any the wiser. But we don't. Do you have any ideas?"

There was but a moment's pause.

"We take my ship." All eyes snapped to Tali, who had answered immediately and without hesitation - after she sighed. "I designed its upgrades to make it a stealth ship like the Normandy. I mean, it's not quite the Normandy, but we can still sneak in and check out the situation undetected. They won't know that we're even there."

John chuckled sweetly, squeezing Tali's shoulder affectionately. "Of course you did, you beautiful woman." He looked to Zaal and Shala once more. "All right…but what about a team in case we have to shut it down ourselves?"

Shala offered a solution. "Well, I could spare a few of my people. But I'm not sure what would happen should the worst come to pass."

Tali shook her head. "You mean if we have to stop them with force. Respectfully, Shala, keep your people. I'm not sure I can trust our own to do what is necessary. This is…keelah, have we ever seen something like this before?"

Zaal answered. "Not that I can recall. Even in our years in the Migrant Fleet - we've never had admirals go 'rogue' quite like these two could. It's…"

John picked up where Zaal had trailed off. "How much time do you think we've got before the Neema leaves this system?"

Shala checked her omnitool. "Well, they're not scheduled to leave until afternoon the day after tomorrow, they need to resupply and prepare for the round trip with more bodies to feed, especially since Daro's science vessels haven't had a supply run either. Why?"

John turned to Tali with a look that she recognized. She was already one step ahead.

"Okay that's at least…about 60-something hours, John. So: Liara, Garrus and Kasumi?"

"Yeah, Tali. Them…and I think Nat'Veral as well. I like him, and he may come in handy since he's served under Gerrel the longest. Liara's still planetside, and it shouldn't take Garrus and Kasumi that long to get here directly from Palaven since more relays are open now." He looked to Zaal, who answered his unasked question.

"About 64 hours currently."

"Okay, that's…doable. They might have a bit of a head start, but it won't be much."

Koris frowned. "If they can't come? Or won't? And if you find the worst, Shepard?"

"Oh, they'll come, Zaal. Trust me. Best damn friends I've ever had, and they won't let me down. Not with this. It's too important. And if we do find the worst, then we do what we have to. We did not go through that war and defeat the Reapers just for these two assholes to undermine this whole fucking thing. I refuse to abide it," he finished with a slam of his fist.

After a deep breath to compose himself after Shepard's brief display of true anger, Zaal asked the next obvious question. "All right, Shepard, Tali. What do you need from us?"

She considered for a moment. "We'll need back up in case…in case this goes…poorly." Her frown was obvious to the entire room. It was John's turn to squeeze her hand. "Shala, can you command a portion of the Heavy Fleet? Get approval from the Conclave?" Her eyes widened. "Keelah, we haven't even told them about this!"

Zaal knew that he could not offer much by way of ship support - that had never been his mandate - but he could do the one thing he was truly gifted at. "Do not worry about them. I can handle the Conclave, with Shala's help of course. And if all else fails, we will have overruled Han and Daro in absentia."

The other three actually chuckled before Shala added one more detail. "And Zaal, I'll want you to command the Patrol Fleet in my absence. After all, someone needs to protect the homeworld."

A simple nod. "Yes, of course Shala."

John sucked in a deep breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "All right, we've got a plan. Zaal, Shala: thank you for bringing this to our attention. Hopefully we're just overreacting. And if we're not? Well, we'll stop them. We have to."

After they left a few minutes later, John and Tali were seated alongside each other, back at the table in what passed for a dining room. He tapped a finger against the surface, debating.

I might need to…this is going to push her.

Fuck.

But we need a backup plan in case this goes south.

John sighed. "Tali, there's one more thing we need to do. And I don't think you'll like it."

Her shoulders slumped in as clear a "what now" as she could give.

"I think we need to inform Hackett."

Tali sighed before letting out a dry laugh. She had known that this was a possibility.

He hated that sound.

"Keelah, I knew this was coming."

John cocked an eyebrow. "You did?"

"How could I not?" Her tone was different…almost adversarial.

How do I explain this to him? How can I make him understand?

Tali came around to sit next to him, clutching his hand. Her eyes blazed into his.

"John, I know that…I know that it makes sense, but…" She trailed off, her eyes scanning the dark surface of the table for a clue on how to proceed. When none was forthcoming, she felt a human hand lift her face to its owner. His eyes contained a sadness, a reluctance…he hadn't wanted to do this either. For his sake, Tali forced the words from herself.

"We need to at least try first. If Hackett learns about this…keelah, if the rest of the galaxy learns about this? We are pariahs again. They will not care who did what. To them, they will only see that we…that we fucked up again."

John visibly recoiled at her use of his all-to-familiar human curse word. It drove home how serious she was about this - how much it mattered.

Tali continued. "And when they find out, you know what they'll say? They'll say 'Those damn suit rats! They had a planet for a few months and look at them! Put the whole galaxy at risk again! They can't be trusted!' And then what will they do?" Her eyes fell from his as she spilled her final question. Standing now, he wrapped her in his arms, pressing her tightly to him.

John stood motionless, holding her soft, shuddering body against his. He considered his options.

John, you know she's right. You know that's exactly what will happen. And then we're back to…no, we won't even be at square one, will we? We'll be pariahs again. Whatever favor they had will be gone. There's nothing that Hackett, or Kenworth, or hell, even me will be able to do or say to fix it. But if we stop them before it gets out, maybe we can salvage this. But if we fail…?

"Koris."

Tali lifted her head in visible confusion. "What about him?"

"He's our answer, Tal. If Shala or Koris don't…hear from us, then he can contact whomever he chooses. My first pick - and yours too, I think - would be Hackett. Because you're right - if we let this out now, then that would most likely set our people back by God knows -"

She put a hand over his mouth and leaned even further into him. "John…what did you say?"

His face spilled concern. What had he said -

"I said that it would set our people back -"

"Keelah, you…I do not have words for you sometimes." His eyes narrowed; she'd said this to him before hundreds of times after he'd some particularly sappy or romantic turn of phrase. What made this moment so different? Seeing his confusion and worry, Tali told him why, this time, he was the most wonderful man she could have ever found. "John, my love," she stroked his cheek with the back of her hand, "you said 'our' people. Twice, in fact. And you did not hesitate."

He replied with a shrug and patented half-smirk. The bosh'tet. "Well, of course I would. That's what you are. That's what you all are. Hell, even Shala and Zaal said so, right?"

For an instant, Tali's animal brain gave serious thought to dragging her bondmate back into their bedroom and showing him again just how much she loved and appreciated him. Thankfully cognitive thought won out.

Besides, there was far too much to do.

It'd been too long since he'd been down here, Han realized as he walked into the range on the third deck aboard the Neema. Its walls were dull and a little grimy around the edges – just the way he remembered it; just the way he liked it. He was thankful to have the place to himself; partially because he was in no mood for company, but also because he actually feared a touch of embarrassment should his marksmanship have fallen off too much. He half-scoffed, half-laughed at the thought of what his skills had degenerated to. After all, this used to be his second home for a long while; hell, even Jana would join him in a bit of friendly competition ("If I win, I'm choosing dinner and the vid we're watching, Han!"). He would lose more than he'd have liked to admit; and when he did lose, the losses never had really felt like defeats. He loved to hear that laugh of hers.

Indeed, his Jana had been one hell of a shot, as a surveyor, she had to be. Who knew what she might find on some remote planet – pirates, wild animals, Geth – so she had to be good. She was maybe not quite as good as one of his marines when she'd started, but he'd taught her well, and she was a natural. Keelah, she was so gifted.

But she was no longer here, was she?

No, of course not, and it had become entirely too quiet.

Han stepped through the little lobby, giving the outside attendant a slight nod that was returned in kind. For a moment, he thought about screaming at the poor kid, such was his barely-contained rage. He kept his composure because, after all, he was probably just a recent recruit. Hell, this was probably his first posting after returning from pilgrimage. Far be it for the admiral to initiate the fresh-faced bosh'tet in that manner. Han knew this story all too well: kid grew up in a military household, one or both parents had served, and he was expected to keep up family tradition, et cetera, et cetera. He knew that story too well, himself. But so often there were kids that were expected to become marines who simply didn't have the tack for it. Han never berated them, or made them feel inferior. No, he would often work with the captains under his command to find a place for these kids to best serve the Fleet.

The Fleet.

He shook his head as he stalked to station 7 to unpack his gear. Like most quarian commanding officers, he stuck to a simple loadout of a heavy pistol to work in conjunction with his omnitool. Because he was quarian, said pistol was a typically anti-Geth weapon. Indeed, the Arc Pistol had been developed by a team under Daro'Xen's command, and the thing had worked splendidly – as most of her contraptions tended to do. Firearms aside, she had most definitely been useful. When he'd come to her what felt like ages ago, complaining about Tali and all that data that had been hamstringing them, he'd never imagined that it would have come to this. By then he'd already given up on ever fulfilling his personal mandate.

But she'd given him hope. What a strange gift to have received from such an unfeeling individual.

Pulling his own lightly modified Arc Pistol from its case, he laid it out on the table to give it a quick inspection. He probably could have done this in his quarters, but recently the room had felt a little too oppressive; a little too claustrophobic.

It felt a little too much like a tomb, and in said tomb it was far too easy for her to find him with her accusatory eyes. They were eyes that he loved so much, and to know that they were disappointed in him was a weight too great to bear.

His weapon, meanwhile, appeared to be in good working order. The process, after a few seconds of foreignness soon became as natural as replacing an air filter on his suit. Prepping the weapon, he inserted one of three thermal clips that he'd brought with him for this exercise. With a few taps at the console in this station, the target popped up from beneath the floor, looking suspiciously like a Geth trooper. Setting the distance to a modest 7 meters, the comically absurd Geth screeched its way back.

Setting his feet, Han decided to start with good form. He planted his feet and held his arms steady. He pulled the trigger.

"Bosh'tet," he muttered. High and wide despite the modest recoil. Not believing that he'd fired a shot that would have made a rookie blush (and Jana laugh at him, hysterically so), he studied the weapon itself, wondering if there was an imperfection that he'd not noticed during his initial inspection. If it existed, it eluded him.

Shaking his head, he resolved to get it right.

"Okay Han, you're thinking too much."

The voice wasn't his. It belonged to his Jana, and it made him smile.

With a few deep breaths, he could feel himself grow a little calmer. His heartbeat rang a little less hectically in his ears. Looking down the sight of the barrel, he felt a bit more locked-in on the center of the Geth. He dared not go for the optics quite yet. He fired again with a smooth and easy squeeze of the trigger.

BANG!

Lowering the weapon, he inspected his handiwork. It wasn't dead center, but it was better. Much better.

"You should try more than one shot at a time, my dear. You know you only got better the more you fired. I never understood it, but you did. I think you should empty the clip."

Nodding at her form that was seated on the counter next to him, he remembered that she was correct.

"Okay love, we'll do it that way."

Resetting himself again, he lined the sights on the center.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Four quick shots in succession, and he could feel it coming back to him. The haze of fumbling about with numb stupid fingers was leaving him. In quick succession, he emptied the remainder of the clip utilizing the Arc Pistol's rapid-fire mode. Checking the results on his omnitool's display, he hummed in quiet satisfaction at the results. He noted that Jana had been right: by the last six pulls of the trigger, his hit diameter was less than five inches in width.

"Yeah, that's not bad, is it?" He took a long, smiling breath. It was coming back, wasn't it? Maybe it had never actually left. Maybe it had just laid dormant – hidden by so much haze.

He released the spent clip, placing it with reverence onto the counter next to him. He watched Jana slide over a little. It was strange that she wasn't wearing her suit. Pulling a flask of water from his belt, he took a long, cold drag on the liquid as he kept his eyes on hers.

Ancestors, how he missed her.

Keelah, missed her.

He angrily loaded the next clip into the weapon and reset the Geth target a further 7 meters back, scowling at the damn thing. He pulled the trigger back, charging up the weapon.

He and Rael were sitting in his quarters, readying the board for the second game of ha'kero. He had bested Tali's father easily in the first match, playing on offense trying to attack the Homeworld. This time he would defend.

Seven moves in, and the pair were still evenly matched.

"Tell me, Rael: have you contacted your daughter? I'm sure you would like to know how she is doing, now that she is once again in the care of the human – that Spectre."

The other man only grunted before inputting his next move.

"I am sure that she is fine."

"Are you? Are you sure?" Han snickered behind his mask. He liked playing this little, separate game with Rael. It worked to his advantage.

Releasing the trigger, the pistol fired a single shot that physically hobbled the target. It left a charred blotch on its chest, just right of center. Han handled the recoil a little less gracefully than he would have liked. After restudying himself, he aimed and pulled the trigger once more.

"I know what you are trying to do here, my friend. You will find that my focus is just as tight as –"

A voice chirped through the intercom overhead.

"E-excuse me, admirals? I have a priority message for Admiral Gerrel. Um, it's coded for his eyes only."

That last statement had caught them both off guard. Often, since they were both admirals, any bit of news would be suitable for them both.

Han and Rael shared the same wide-eyed look.

Rael had heard a message such as this before, and it turned his stomach. He ended the game, not bothering to save it to resume later.

"I will take my leave, Han. Contact me when you can."

He shook his friend's hand, unaware that this was to be the last game they will have ever played. "Yes. Yes, of course, Rael. Thank you."

As he turned to leave, Han reminded him. "And please reach out to Tali. She deserves to know the truth. To hear it from you."

"The truth?"

"That you love her, of course."

After he left, Han keyed up the transmission on his terminal, thinking that this was little more than some minor annoyance that had somehow skirted the chain-of-command and made its way to his desk.

The trigger pull was so silky smooth, and his shoulders managed the kickback of another power shot from the pistol. The faux Geth took the shot admirably on the chest, dead-center this time. The creaky screech it made as it wobbled slightly against the force of the slug gave him a short-lived smile.

Han sniffed. He was sweating and he wished he could rub his hands together.

"That's not true, saera."

Shocked at the sound, he'd forgotten that Jana was there.

How could he have done that?

But was she there? Had she ever left?

"W-what?"

She smiled, a little bit of sadness hinted at by her eyes and in the subtle downturn in the corners of her mouth.

"You do not really wish to rub your hands together, do you?"

No, of course not. He wished to rub them on –

Han didn't remember how he got there. He knew that he was aboard the Fiala, and that he must have gotten there somehow. That was about the extent of it, though. Everything else he knew was contained within him.

He had been left alone with her. He'd left immediately from the Neema without informing anyone. How could he have? How could he have said a thing to anyone? As far as he knew, he hadn't.

Thankfully, the people that had found her – far too late after the initial distress call to have made a difference – had thought to cover Jana's face. Her sweet, delicate face…

Dropping to his knees at her bedside, he clutched her hand…his last link to what had been the better part of his soul.

And he wailed into her side, the cries of desperation…of hopelessness.

He'd not been able to hold her, to tell her what she'd meant to him. She'd known, of course, but to have been uprooted from him…

The Geth.

By those heathen, unfeeling and merciless bosh'tets.

They'd stolen her from him. They'd taken her on some backwater planet that only quarians would have cared about. There was no reason for the machines to have even been there. But they had been, and they'd taken his life from him.

He would take theirs, if it was the last damn thing he did. He trembled as he spoke.

"Keelah, Jana…I am so sorry. I should have…" He couldn't take his glove off to touch her. Every molecule in him screamed that this was wrong. "I should have pulled you off the mission. I am an admiral. You would have yelled at me for doing such a thing, for protecting you. After all, you were a grown woman…and it's not like you didn't know how to de…defend yourself…"

The floodgates opened, and the tears ran steadily down his face. Collapsing to the floor, he screamed at nothing, at everything. He wailed his chest upon the indignity, he wailed his heart upon it, he wailed his soul upon the beast. And if he did not die in the fighting, then he would do so in the winning. He would happily do so, if only to see her again.

Yes, he would feel the warmth of her smile on his skin again. He would taste the sweetness of her love again. And he would do so with pride, with eyes that could look upon her in knowing that the price extracted for this indignity was the ending of their entire race.

"I promise you, my Jana. I promise you."

Without realizing it, he had placed the pistol back into its case. He would inspect it with a clear head when he got back to his quarters. Then he would meet with Daro. It would be days before they would leave the system. They would have to be restocked, and he could not afford to let on to any others about the plans that would surely see them exiled or worse. For Daro, she clearly didn't care; she was playing a longer game. It was a game that he could not play, for he had his own goals.

Ancestors willing, he would be with her again by the end.

And would look her in the eyes.