Departure "Would they blame me? Probably not Claire, or her men, provided they could get to me before any of the other fireteams. But if anyone sees the scene before that, well, then I’m coward, and the Dead Orbit will have a coward listed among its dead.” Zachariah thought, as he held his pistol under his chin, sitting in the shade of a back alley between two decrepit skyscrapers, protected as gale winds slowly ate away at his comrades and dragged them down into the swelling dunes that covered the Red Planet. “And they didn’t even say goodbye.” Zach said with a tinge of tired, sarcastic humor to no one. He looked down at his wounded leg again. The bullet from the Cabal Centurion entered about 3 inches above the knee and had gone right through plate, flesh, and bone as it exited. He had administered Kelsadrine, a mix of stimulants for the brain and good, old-fashioned morphine for the leg. Zach had been taking Kelsa for almost six months now. That was the reason he was slow, why he got his team killed. “If I died now, they would take a blood sample, and they would know I used Kelsa, which would lead them to my stash on the ship.” Additional drugs were prohibited on mission. “Either way, I’m an embarrassment. It’s no less than I deserve.” His finger was shaking, itching to pull the trigger. Zach was groggy but he could comprehend what happened next. There was a lone Cabal sniffing around the battleground. As a made his way closer to the alley, Zach remained still. “If I play dead…aw shit!” The Cabal had sniffed him out, and was charging headlong. Instinct set in and with one short pull, the alien came crashing down. “No, guardians don’t give up.”