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air in her suit ran out.
    The air had a funny tang to it that reminded Beatrix of the ocean. Otherwise, it was perfectly normal air. Pickle, good to her word, left her helmet on while the rest took theirs off.
    Normally they all would have ribbed Pickle for keeping her helmet on, but none of them were in a joking mood. If the rest of their thoughts were as grim as hers, Beatrix couldn't blame them. It was hard to joke when you were imagining bloody torture at the hands of your sworn enemies.
    "Just keep an eye on your oxygen gauge, Pickle. I don't want you asphyxiating yourself in that suit," said Torch, setting his helmet on the metal floor with a clunk. "Sting, you come with me. You other three, stay together. We'll circle around the bay counterclockwise. You go clockwise and we'll meet up back here at the helmets in fifteen minutes. Don't explore too much on your own. Just make note of anything interesting and we'll all go check it out together."
    They all nodded grimly and set off. Once they were out of earshot, Torch cleared his throat a couple of times and then finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "I don't expect we're going to make it out of this alive," he said.
    "Now don't start in with th—"
    "No. Hear me out. This isn't just fatalism. I have a point." His blue eyes were intense and serious in the gloom. Command had given Torch an air of responsibility, but he had always felt a bit like a boy playing cops and robbers, even when they were being swarmed by Raptors. This was more serious than Beatrix had ever seen him, and it actually scared her. He wasn't the best pilot in the Flight by far, but he had saved her that day in the mess hall when she'd been so green she didn't even realize that she would need friends if she wanted to live long enough to get her revenge. In one fell swoop, he'd given her a name that made light of her sometimes prickly attitude and shown his friends that she had his stamp of approval. He did everything with such ease that she almost thought of him as invincible. That's why she hadn't even been bothered when he'd been promoted above her. It was wrong to hear him talking about his own death.
    "Alright," she said, taking a moment to calm her emotions so she could listen to what he said openly.
    "I don't expect that we're going to make it out of here, but if any of us can do it, it's you." Beatrix started to object and then thought better of it when he narrowed his eyes at her. "You're too damned stubborn to die. Even when you let your bloodlust get the better of you, you always manage to dial it back just enough to keep yourself alive. So, if you make it out of this and I don't, I want you to do something for me."
    While she still wanted to protest everything he said, Beatrix wouldn't ever deny Torch something he asked of her. He'd never done it before. "Whatever you want, Luther. I'm sure it won't come to that, but I'll do anything you ask."
    "Tell Madeleine that I meant to ask her to be my wife after this tour, and give her this ring to remember me by. Then make sure that she moves on and finds another man." He smiled sadly. "After a sufficient mourning period, that is. Can't have people thinking she's glad to be rid of me."
    Beatrix took the beautiful ring he offered and chuckled in spite of the heavy emotion weighing on her heart. "I may have to make a play for her myself after that mourning period is over. She's quite the looker." She gave him a wink and tucked the ring in her pocket.
    "Hey, that's fine with me; I always suspected you of having a thing for the ladies when you showed no interest in me," said Torch, managing a genuine smile.
    "Oh, come off it. The way you go on about Madeleine, you make it plenty clear that any other woman isn't worth your time." They continued in silence for a time, scouting the boring perimeter of the bay. "Besides, I don't have time for dating right now. I've got more important things to do than get all gooey."
    Beatrix fingered the ring in her pocket