"What's wrong?" she demanded at his approach, eyeing the pilot suspiciously.

Grayson froze and raised his hands in the air so they were level with his shoulders. "Just getting a drink," he assured her.

His body was charged with nervous anticipation, the tips of his fingers were actually tingling. But he was careful to betray no hint of this in his voice.

This particular dream was all too familiar. Over the past ten years he had relived his first kill hundreds, if not thousands, of times. There had been other assignments, of course; other deaths. In the service of the greater cause he had taken many, many lives. If humanity was to survive — to triumph over all the other species — sacrifices had to be made. But of all the sacrifices, of all the lives he had taken, of all the missions he had completed, this was the one he dreamed of more than any other.

Satisfied the pilot posed no immediate threat, Keo turned away from him and settled back down in her seat, though she still seemed ready to lash out at the slightest provocation. Grayson made his way behind her toward the small fridge in the corner of the passenger cabin. He swallowed hard, his throat so dry and tight it actually hurt. He half-imagined he saw her ears twitch at the sound.

From the corner of his eye he saw Pel remove his headphones, dropping them casually into the seat beside him as he stood up to stretch. "How long till we land? " he asked, his words partially stifled by a yawn.

"Four hours," Grayson replied as he opened the fridge and ducked down to inspect the contents, struggling to keep his breathing calm and even.

"No complications?" Pel asked as the pilot rummaged around in the chilled contents of the fridge.

"Everything's right on schedule," Grayson replied, wrapping his left hand around a bottled water while his right grasped the handle of the long, thin serrated blade he had stashed inside the icebox before the journey began.