An instrument chimed on the console. “Missiles launched,” reported Oris.

“Can we intercept them?”

“No.”

“Take evasive action?”

“Listen, you stupid bitch!” he leapt from his chair. “We have no defences! We will now die.” He crumpled to his knees.

Another chime. Smaller points of light appeared on the screen, homing rapidly.

“Oris!” she pulled him to his feet. “I can save you. Save us. But you must trust me.”

“What?” he said, uncomprehending.

“Empathise! It’s the only way.”

“What…”

She pushed him against the console, kissed him, feeling his shock. Her hands felt their way into his tunic, descending.

“Love me. Now”

“I can’t…I’ve never…”

“This is the last moment of your life,” she hissed, “try something new.”

A moment’s hesitation – then he pulled her to him, hungry and urgent. They intertwined, clasping, tensing, gasping: euphoria…

Missiles tore the shuttle apart, sending them spinning through space, the blood freezing in their hearts.

Release, thought Oris.

And then, he died.