RONAN “Please stop. Oh God, please stop.” My hands would not settle. They kept shifting, torn between his chest and his throat. Choice finally collapsed into instinct. Both palms pressed hard against his neck, right over the wide, torn opening that was pouring blood. Every beat of his heart forced more of it out, warm and slick, sliding through my fingers. The effort was pointless and I knew it, yet the body would not stop trying. Blood spread across his chest, pooling and rising, an open tide that kept growing no matter how much pressure I used. The young soldier stared up at me. Brown eyes, wide and terrified, said everything he could not. Panic lived there, raw and naked. His mouth opened again and again as if words were close, but only a wet rasp came out. Red bubbles swelled at his lips and burst. Nothing else followed. Ears rang so badly the world felt distant, like it was happening behind thick walls. Sound came thin and broken. “What is it?” I asked. The words felt weak, useless, but they were all I had. Thirty seconds earlier he had been a stranger. Now he was dying in my hands. Guilt settled heavy as I realized that even if he managed to speak, it would not matter. Whatever he was trying to say would never reach me. Hearing was gone, drowned out by ringing and shock. His hand lifted, slow and shaking. It closed around my wrist. Fingers barely had the strength to curl. His grip was light, almost careful, like he was afraid to hurt me. Eyes softened, then drifted past my shoulder. Focus slipped away. They fixed on something that was not there. A glance over my shoulder found nothing at all.Turning back, the last breath came out of him. It rattled deep in his chest. It was loud in my bones even if my ears barely caught it. The pulsing under my hands stopped. Blood no longer pushed forward. The wound went still. “Dude, what the hell are you doing?” The words left my mouth before thought could catch them. Knees were still in the grass. Hands were still pressed against his throat. Then the truth hit all at once. He was gone. The body reacted first. Weight threw itself backward. Hands tore free as I scrambled away, palms slipping in blood. Grass burned against my knees. Hands came up in front of my face, red and shaking. Blood coated every line of my skin.Scrubbing started without thinking, grinding my palms into the grass like it could erase what had happened. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The words looped, empty and frantic. Turf blades and small stones bit into bruised skin, sharp enough to feel through the numbness. Eyes shut tight. Breath came too fast, chest rising and falling out of control. Air felt thin. Panic pressed in from all sides. A fist clenched and slammed into my thigh. Again. Pain flared bright and clean, cutting through the noise in my head. It grounded me. It gave me something solid to focus on. Death was not new. Bodies had been seen before. Torn paramilitaries. Fellow analysts. Family members lowered into the ground at quiet funerals. Those were distant memories, removed and cold. This was different. Not before had I been part of it. Never had life drained away right in front of my eyes. Never had someone’s blood soaked into my hands, their warmth fading as they slipped away. Even the young technician who died in front of me before, that moment had been too fast. One second she existed. The next she did not. The mind could not keep up, could not hold onto it long enough to understand. This was slow. This was clear. Every second had weight. Every breath mattered. This would stay forever.Stories from my uncle came back then. He used to stare off into nothing while talking about the war. His voice would flatten. His eyes would go far away. He spoke about his time advising the Taiwanese Expeditionary Force during the push into South East China. Back then it sounded like history. Now it felt like a warning. Understanding came with a cold certainty. This moment would follow me for the rest of my life, just like those deaths followed him. Breathing finally slowed. The shaking eased. Pain spread through my leg as the strikes stopped. Muscles throbbed, already swelling, but control had returned. A full breakdown had been avoided. There was no room for that now.Fires burned in every direction. Army personnel ran hard between them, shouting and moving with purpose as they fought to contain the damage. Smoke filled the air, thick and choking. The world came back into focus piece by piece. Behind me, the transport that had exploded still hissed and popped. The young soldier in the grass had taken the shrapnel meant for no one at all. The vehicle continued to burn, its high-capacity lithium-ion battery ruptured when a hypervelocity round from a Glaive combat drone tore straight through it. The sound was sharp and angry. A reminder that the chaos was not finished.