[All they've had until what he assumes 24 hours before this very moment was a vandalized headstone and a lone grassy hill, the site of many surreptitious visitations the few of them who've remained courteously never mentioned. They're separated from faces have been fading from their memories, immortalized only in sunlight stained photographs and old screens by mere frosted glass. The thought alone is overwhelming, never mind the sight itself.]

We can make a tally and a plan. It's not like we can pretend who's going to leave the pod next, but we're going to be prepared.

[For all he knows and for all his heart and treacherous brain has told them, not all of them walked into their deaths with regrets. This resurrection has an indelible sort of cruelty to it.]