He stumbled into the shuttle, catching himself against a wall, head snapping in the direction of the closing doors. Once they shut, all the fight, all the tenseness fled him, and he sat down, heavily, head slightly bowed in acceptance or obeisance or possibly vacancy.

He was a part of something bigger, better, even if it only lasted a short while.

It was okay.

The shuttle, preset to autopilot, came to life on its own, and slowly slipped out of Strela's dock, making its way back to the Tranquility.

And he sat and waited in abject silence.