If silence near blatant ignoring is a normal response form Aeryn, one that people grow accustom to, whether that is her new teammates or a man who claims to have fallen through a hole in space or these creatures, these people, here on this ship, this is still a completely different kind of silence. The one meeting the doctor's question. This silence is sharp as a knife.

The one shoving itself with brutal ruthlessness straight through Aeryn's ribs to press her lungs flat.
Tripping every trigger as it slides in. Through every single year. Every word of doctrine on Genetic Purity.




This is not Crais's blind grief turned madness. This is her fault. The price of her weakness.






"No."