Still, she’s not one of us, and she never was. She’d kill us as soon as help us if it got her what she wanted. Ronan watched the world pass by through the forward nautascope display. The earth beneath them was grey and littered with icy snow. The inside of the warship was cramped and noisy. Steel rivets rattled in place. There were no seats aside from the pilot’s and gunner’s, so Ronan and Maur kept switching places, navigating between bulky pieces of wire-covered equipment and ducking beneath pulleys and handles as they tried their best to stay out of the way. Maur was quiet as he studied the controls in the Bloodhawk. He’d mentioned to Ronan earlier that he’d never seen the newest model, and he was curious to see what upgrades had been made. Ronan had no doubt the Gol was cataloging the information away for selecting their next vessel, whenever they could afford a next vessel. Will there even be a ‘next vessel’? Everyone else is gone, or as good as gone. Do you really think you and Maur are going to keep the team going? That part of your life is over, pal. He felt empty inside whenever he thought about the team, whenever he thought about how much he needed them…about how little he wanted to be on his own again.
