NO!" Cain roared. "No, there has to be something—"
"I'm sorry," the Delta whispered. "There's nothing we can do. If we try to pull it out, we'll kill her faster."
Cain stared at her, then back at Ellen.
Ellen, who was glowing.
Ellen, who was dying.
"Why?" Cain's voice was raw. "Ellen, why would you do this?"
"Because," Ellen whispered, her voice so faint he had to lean in to hear, "I was tired, Cain. So tired. And the shield—it was breaking. I could feel it. Cracking. And if it broke—" Tears slipped down her glowing cheeks. "Everyone would die. The children. The families. Everyone."
"So you decided to die instead?"
"I decided to hold on," Ellen said, her voice firmer now. "Just a little longer. And this—this helps. It lightens the load. Makes it easier to hold."
"You're absorbing radiation," Cain said desperately. "It's killing you."
"I know." Ellen's smile was sad, peaceful. "I know, Cain."
