Marduk has her hands over her mouth and a buzzing in her ears. Looming over her, rumbling so hard they sound like an engine, Riccin still can't compare to the drones finally visible in the air behind them.

She removes her hands, clears her throat and makes a questioning sound, just to test the strength of her soundcords. The noise is strong enough: shaky, but audible.

(If children got culled for emotion, the entire cohort would be dead! But not actively crying always helps.)

"I don't know," she whispers, forcing out each word, "but I buh-believe we have other things to worry about, right now."