<div class="floatright">(http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y156/jillvader/mw-nmfkmpkarimonero_zps55a1bf27.jpg)</div>To Kari, Carlos Monero had been like Shcrodinger’s cat; he was alive until she knew he was dead. And now Damien had opened the lid of the box, and there was no denying the truth.<br/><br/>For a moment, or an eternity, there was nothing but a shocked silence in the room. The distant rumble of the engines was there, but strangely muted despite their power. There was also the sounds of weapons fire, and the odd impact on the hull, but those seemed just as remote, as of occurring in some strange world that Kari was not a part of, yet was ever so slightly aware of.<br/><br/>Inside, she was lost. She had no idea what to do or say; it was a situation that she had never prepared for, never once considered. And every reaction that came to her mind was just wrong. A huge part of her wanted to shout at Damien, to accuse him of abandoning her father or leaving him to die, or not having done enough to save him. He should have rescued Carlos, doing everything  to get him back to the ship alive. That part of her mind told her that he should have been the one protecting her father, that he should have died in his place.<br/><br/>But she also knew that such accusations were unfair, her expectations unrealistic and likely clouded by her own greif. Lashing out now wouldn’t bring her father black, neither would assigning blame or accusations of leaving him to die. Instead, all it would do is hurt one of the few people she had left. As remote and cold as he seemed, Damien had still been a constant part of her life for so long. And now he was becoming her rock, a bastion of stability that she needed right now.<br/><br/>“thank… thank you,” she managed, her voice wavering but not yet breaking. “He died a hero, and we’re probably only here to talk about it because of what he did. Carlos would have done that, he… he would have wanted ads many of us to get away as we could, and he knew that his life was secondary to that.” Her mind told her that this was right, that this would have been her father’s wish.<em>The unit and its people survive. His life was insignificant next to that</em>.<br/><br/>“I’m glad you were there for him,” she continued. “I mean, well, you’ve been here for so long, and you were his closest confident and friend… I… I know it’s not easy to say, but he’d have wanted you to tell me this, and to be there, for me. For the unit.”<br/><br/>Kari swallowed hard, knowing how much the answer to this next question would hurt, no matter what it was. “How much is left? You, me, Allia… was there anyone else?”<br/>