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the sled. It seems to glide easily over the purple sand and Alan soon puts the backpack on it too. He’s able to make much more headway through the night, even as he shivers from the intense cold. Occasionally he sees drop-ships swooping overhead. I bet they’ve found the bodies of the last commando team by now. They know Vash is here, and by morning they’ll be ready to launch a full scale search and destroy mission. We have to find the base tonight. When the sun comes up it’ll be too late.
    He’s hungry, but too tired to want food at the same time. He propels himself onward by thinking about the sleep he’ll get once they reach the base. There’ll be a hot shower waiting, and clean sheets, and the cafeteria food will taste like it’s fit for a king...
    Vash lets out a small moan, but Alan ignores him. The cliffs are close now, and he sees no sign of the base. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s probably well hidden. They won’t want the Karalians to know they have a listening post here.
    Vash lets out another moan. Alan looks behind him to see a group of figures following them at a distance. Tall figures. Karalian figures, Alan realizes. He pulls his gun from his belt, readying himself for a fight. We’ll lose, of course. There’s too many of them. How did they find us? They must have tracked my sled marks through the desert. Damn it. How long have they been tracking us? Perhaps they wanted to see where we would go. Perhaps it’s a good thing we never found the base. At least the listening post hasn’t been compromised.
    Vash pulls himself to unsteady feet, anxious not to die without some kind of a fight. He draws his knife from its sheath, but it’s simply a ritual at this point, since Vash is finding it hard even to stay standing. 
    The commandos, knowing they have been spotted, abandon stealth and swarm into view. Alan and Vash find themselves surrounded, and take up position guarding each others’ backs. Our last stand, Alan realizes. They’ve seen what we did to their men. They will take no prisoners.
    “I thank you, Alan,” Vash says quietly. “You have shown me that Humans can be creatures of honor. I go to the Beyond richer for that knowledge.”
    “You’ve taught me the same about Karalians,” Alan responds. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you to the base.”
    “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Vash’s voice is quiet, laced with emotion. He steps forward and Alan feels his departure.
    “I will not be dishonored by you... or anyone else,” Vash yells to the commandos, his breathless voice filled with pride. Sweat is dripping from his face and his eyes are bloodshot. “I was born kast’ka. I will die as such, a free man.” He raises his knife. It glimmers in the flashlights of the commandos and he draws it to his throat.
    “Vash!” Alan cries out, but Vash turns away. Alan sees red and knows Vash’s blood is spilled by his own hand before the man even crumples. The knife falls into the sand. The commandos race in as Alan rushes to Vash’s side, tearing off a piece of his uniform and trying to stem the wound. It looks like he collapsed before he could slash his windpipe and artery. He might make it if he can get medical treatment.
    The commandos are all around them now, pointing guns at Alan’s head as he tries to save the fading life beneath him. 
    “Please,” he says. “Vash needs medical treatment. Come on, he’s one of your own!”
    “ Sala ?” One of the commandos says, and Alan can see the translation jewel around Vash’s neck is broken. That’s what stopped the knife. I’ll bet on it. Only now I can’t negotiate for his life.
    The commandos burst out laughing, and Alan is roughly dragged to his feet and thrust down onto his knees. He feels the butt of a gun pressing into the back of his head.
    “ Kast’ka ?” One of the men asks the commando. The commando nods. “ Kast’ka shamala. Vorshaya! ” The others laugh as the soldier rushes for some kind