The world was burning.
So hot, he could barely breathe.
Kajj leaned heavily against the console of his ship, feeling the hot prickle of sweat as it slid down between his shoulder blades, blood throbbing within his limbs. His vision was… softer around the edges. Flickering, almost shimmering with the thrum of his pulse. It wouldn’t be long now, he knew.
He forced himself to straighten, to focus, to wipe the sweat from his brow as he settled himself back down into the pilot’s chair, tapping out the coordinates with a shaking hand. The… human colony. They would take her in. Protect her, surely. Perhaps if he bribed them enough. If he… gave them his ship, his accounts. Everything he had, surely, surely then…!
It had to be enough. He had to *make* it enough. The clock was ticking and he knew he was running out of time.
There was a bitter glory in it, of course, the image of the Motherguard returning triumphant, his wings spread and glittering, the golden jewel of Daughter’s egg cradled safely within his arms. A new life. A new start for his people, if only, if only he could ensure her protection.
The irony of it all left a bitter taste in his fever-cotton mouth, to find her now, to have her safely within his grasp only for it all to be taken away in a single lapse of judgment. One bright sweet taste of forbidden fruit.
The Flight was meant to be a celebration — a week full of feasting and dancing, of flashing wings and soaring laughter, a coming together of colonies for the creation of a new one, the grand celebration of life in all of its majesty.
It was an honor to die in completion of the Flight.
It was empty to die like this.
He set his jaw and gripped the yoke, his sweat-slicked fingers sliding uncomfortably within his metal capped gloves. He had failed, one final time.
All he could do was ensure that his failure was not his people’s doom.