He spread his palms against the metal hull of the craft behind him. Refugees were still limping aboard; someone inside, from a different enclosure, was sorting people into seats and through a kind of triage.

Jack was just the grunt work.

He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, calculating how fast he would need to go to sprint past her and find a hiding place in this quickly-emptying sector of the city.

"I trust you. With my life, sweet love. You know that."