There's a threshold when it comes to falling out of the sky. Reach a certain speed, and landing in water results in the same exact impact as a body hitting rock-solid concrete.

Hit the surface of the ocean past that threshold, as well as and trapped within the body of a shuttle ripping itself apart, and the chances of survival grow to nigh impossible.

Jasper's contemplation of this fact was slow - a sluggishly, achingly, eons-crawling-by level of slowness that felt as though he'd spent hours of his life hanging in the sky.

In reality, it took the Skywave only two dozen seconds in all to smash back down against the planet.

If this had been a real battle, the shuttle would have come equipped with ejector seats, a built-in stabilizer system. But all the Skywave could do was tighten their seat straps and deploy a series of airbags, half of which flew past Jasper's view in a tangle of shredded canvas. It was a pleasure craft after all - no one had ever expected Alto II to be the target of a war.

There was a flash of pure whiteness as the Skywave hit the water nose-first with a sound like a clap of thunder.

Riko, who had been piloting from the cockpit, never stood a chance. The pressure of the collapsing, crumpling ship as it hit the water must have folded up his body like a piece of decorative paper.

It was a difference of a millisecond, a angle of impact occurring purely by chance, but for Jasper, who sat in the Skywave's furthermost row of seats, the crash did not lead to instant death. It did, however, result in pain beyond anything he had experienced before in his life. By the time the main body had hit the water, the roof of the Skywave had been blown off by the sheer force of their speed. The fighter's projectile had punched through the side of the craft, and so that too, had been open to the sky.

Jasper had waited until the last possible second before impact before overriding the ship's auto-controls and detaching himself from the safety straps with his seat's controls. It meant that when the Skywave made impact, his legs crumpled. They shattered against the chair, the floor - then he was flung skyward with the momentum, launched through the gaps in the shuttle and into the open air. A few degrees in either direction, and he would have smashed against what remained of the ship's metal body.

But he wasn't. Instead, he was tossed into the sky like some horrible, crippled avian creature, before hitting the water once again. He skipped once, twice, bouncing against the ocean's surface like a stone before coming to a sinking stop.

The Skywave had faced a very similar fate. Thanks to the angle and point of contact, the shuttle had skipped along the surface for a stretch, just as he had, before coming to a stop. There were enough surviving airbags to prevent the bulk of the ship from sinking.

Their disastrous fall had been spotted; aquajets were already being deployed to the crash site, racing across the waves. But for Jasper and the others, they would never make it in time.

He had blacked out shortly after the initial impact. The searing, star-bright pain of his ruined legs had been too much to handle, the oxygen-stealing speed of his flight spurning him the rest of the way.

In addition to his limbs, many of Jasper's internal organs had begun to shut down. Another stroke of luck - he'd managed to land face-up, but soon his lungs would fill with water, and contribute to the rising tally of failed anatomical systems.

In a normal human, the brain would have shut down at this point; if death could somehow be avoided, then comatose existence was an inevitable alternative.

But Jasper shared his mind with another - someone who was immune to the pressures of external stimuli.

The Old One had watched, like a distant spectator, as it warnings went unheeded, as the Skywave crawled upwards towards space, only to fall crashing down again. She had lived many lives, in many different bodies, but the actions taken by the Altonians that day were some of the most futile and stupid she'd ever experienced, in her own humble opinion.

The Old One regarded the mangled body she currently inhabited. Considered, for a moment, staying on until one of the rescuers arrived and latching on to a new, fresh body.

Her relationship with the boy had never been what would have been considered pleasant, but it had been... unique. He spoke to her in a way she hadn't been addressed in a long, long time. She could barely remember the last time she'd been permitted to speak so freely.

It would be too much work to restart, she decided. Besides, for anyone else, there wouldn't have even been a choice available. But Jasper was from Valle, had been gifted the Factor of healing from that pompous windbag of a Planatae.

Normally, the boy had about an average level of power - nothing extraordinary. For a short time, however, the Old One could draw out far more than was normally possible. The problem was that she'd never had the greatest grasp on human anatomy. In fact, Jasper had been the first trained doctor she'd ever had serve as her host.

She spent precious nanoseconds rifling through his memories - unlike her boosting capability, it was an ability the Old One had never divulged to another. She dove into the past, looking for the time he'd spent studying, training with some of the best in the field of medicine. The best she could do was skim, but it was enough of a foundation to work from.

Only a half-second had passed in real-time during her frantic search through his synapses, but his body had already reached catastrophic failure.

But she was the Old One. The Enduring One. The Avatar of Saiseki, and many more names besides. Healing this child was, well... child's play.

The Old One grasped the fading current of power in Jasper's mind, coaxing it, whispering sweet nothings in its ephemeral ear. It flared to life in one last push, as though it too sought to save the body it resided in.

With the sheer power of her intention, the Old one pushed ligaments together, reassembled bones, muscles, soft, delicate tissues. She drained his lungs of fluid, forced fresh blood through his circulatory system, flooded his brain with oxygen.

To more relief than the Old One would ever admit, Jasper lurched awake, thrashing. Water poured from his nose and mouth as he struggled, his body rejecting the accumulated fluid.

Calm down, she ordered. Now that he was awake, she didn't risk taking control of his body for him. This was better known, but not by much. The boy certainly didn't need to know.

But Jasper didn't settle down. Instead, he whirled around, searching desperately. Upon seeing the wreak of the Skywave, he charged towards it in desperate, wild strokes.

What are you doing? The Old One shrieked. You're weakened - you need to wait for the rescue crew!

If Jasper heard her, he gave no indication of it. But perhaps he truly couldn't - the resounding boom of high powered artillery echoed above them, again and again and again.

The fighting was still at its peak, and the concussions of air from swooping fighters served to froth the ocean's surface into a frenzy of waves. Already slow, it was making Jasper's progress even more difficult.

By the time he made it to the floating disaster, the first of the aquajets had arrived as well. The small cluster of Altonians gaped at him in open shock as he dragged himself out of the water and onto one of the remaining air bags.

"Drift," he choked out, winded from excretion. "Chief of medical staff at the resort... I have a healing Factor."

"You must be a damn miracle man," one of the responders managed to say, looking him up and down. His accent was thick and melodious, as though he were unused to speaking Standard. A local, but not necessarily resort staff. Despite the situation, Jasper felt a rush of gratification at this show of community.

"Any movement?" he asked, ignoring the comment.

"How many of you were there?" Was the reply.

"Four,"

"Four," he echoed, exchanging glances with the others. "Now there's just one."

"Holy stones," he breathed. Now that the adrenaline was ebbing away, he could feel the shakiness in his limbs, the fatigue. The Old One had drained him during her repairs, and he could tell he was reaching his limit.

There was also thick currents of dread coursing

through him, threatening to immobilize, but he kept it at bay for the time being. He needed to see for himself - needed to rip away the emotion and act like the doctor he was supposed to be.

You will not like what you see, the Old One murmured, now subdued.

I know, he said. But I need to try anyway. He picked his way across the inflated fabric, carefully eased himself down into what remained of the passenger cabin. Working together, the team rescue ensured that both he and they didn't puncture themselves on the jagged edges of the ship.

Despite the clashing battle above them, they worked slowly, methodically through the rubble.

"Don't bother about the pilot," Jasper forced

himself to say. They all glanced over at the flattened heap of the cockpit. He couldn't see any human remains in the mess, and he stopped himself from picturing it. Riko would have died instantly, he told himself. No suffering like the kind he'd gone through. No second chances for the man either.

There were shouts from the others, and Jasper turned away to see two of the rescuers ripping upholstery and strips of loose paneling out of the way.

He watched as they created a gap wide enough to extract the twisted body of Mako.

Don't freeze up - remember your field medic training. He rushed forward, the vestiges of his Factor flickering at his fingertips.

But the man was shredded.

He wasn't a person anymore. Now he was just a pile of skin, and flesh, and human matter that couldn't hold up to the strain.

Jasper allowed himself to look away, now that he knew he was beyond his professional help.

"It's bad. She's gone."

The man he'd spoken to before nodded slowly. There was nothing to say.

Jasper pushed it away for the time being, kept moving forward.

"What about the fourth?" He asked. "Did you find him?"

Eden. He was sitting next to you.

He whirled around, gesturing wildly to the front of the cabin. Its proximity to the cockpit had warned the team away, but at Jasper's insistence they moved in, working to clear the debris. Jasper joined them, scrabbling at the wreckage.

He forced himself to keep thinking of Eden in the present: a tall, poised figure that stalked the halls of Aquatime. The general who not only kept his younger brother in line, but always watched out for the rest of them. Someone who let an outcast - a coward - like Jasper into his inner circle. He was still all those things - Jasper made himself believe it.

Still, it couldn't stop his veins from freezing over when his hand suddenly brushed against skin.

He'd been hidden by the collapsed seating, but unlike Mako, he'd been partially protected by the sturdy divide between the cockpit and the cabin. Somehow, the infrastructure had held, creating a cavity in which Eden had been cocooned.

It was a much easier task to pull him out of the mess, but those few seconds sharpened the world to a razor's edge.

He was bruised and battered; the impact had brutalized his lower half as it had done to Jasper before he'd been healed.

But the same straps that had allowed him to escape had saved the other man's life. He could tell, feeling out with his Factor, that Eden was still alive.

Barely hanging on by a thread, but alive - and the relief was overwhelming.

The team got him out of the wreckage, laying him down in an area clear of debris.

Can you boost me? He asked the Old One.

Not much, was the reply. Bringing you back from the dead was your allotted miracle for the day.

"Alright," he spoke aloud, sighing. "I'll stabilize him but I can't do much more here. We'll have to get back to the resort as soon as possible."

Jasper kneeled before Eden's motionless body, letting what remained of his strength flow out of him. It was a little like the currents of water he'd gotten used to during his stay on Alto II. His tutors had described it using different metaphors, but water - its ability to flow, and morph, and change - felt like the most fitting way to describe the energies he worked with.

He started with the worst of the internal bleeding. He staunched hemorrhages, ensured that blood was flowing to the brain, that his breathing was easy.

When Jasper stood again, swaying with the effort, the rise and fall of Eden's chest was deeper, smoother. He'd only been partially successful in his work, but it was better than nothing.

"We need to go," he said, gesturing to the others to help him. They scrambled to get Eden off the Skywave and onto one of the aquajets. The Altonain man offered to take him on a different one. Since neither Jasper nor Eden had gills, the crafts would have to skim across the surface to get back. The others quickly dived below the surface and raced ahead towards the rounded shape of the resort in the distance.

Side by side, the aquajets pulled away from the wreck, fighting the waves.

Jasper risked a glance at the sky above once they were moving at a decent pace. The big, bulbous ship had drifted ever closer to the planet's surface, close enough to make out the white-and-red designs that stretched across its now-pitted hull.

A Ferrum Rete cruise of some kind, then, but that was no surprise. The real mystery was their attackers - which independent territory they'd crawled out of. It was hard to make out the swift, fleeing shapes of the fighters, but Jasper could tell they weren't Rete design. Nor were they the slim, tapered shapes of Saiseki craft.

That was disastrous, the Old One cut into his thoughts. Your supervisor chose to send you and the others to their death with little more than bureaucratic obligation as an excuse.

The Rete isn't like Saiseki, he responded, his thoughts emerging dull and heavy. They value rules and order, not independence and grandiose choices.

The Rete may endure, thanks to its values, but only on a grand scale. People like you just fall through the cracks.

Jasper didn't respond. He kept his eyes on the sky, refusing to look over at Eden's prone form. That's what he wanted, wasn't it? To slip through those very cracks - to be forgotten, left alone for as long as he could ever want.

But now the necrotic fingers of violence and terror had grasped him again, dragging him back into a place he'd tried so hard to escape. Was he destined to repeat this cycle endlessly? Running, desperately seeking peace, only for everything to fall apart again.

In an abstract way, he felt for the pleasure craft as it struggled above him. It was a gaudy, pretty tub of a ship, designed for nothing but recreation and enjoyment. And yet here it hung, somehow holding its own against the vicious fights that tore into it. But even as he watched, he could see it fall lower and lower, smoke and detritus trailing. It was trying, but it would fail, eventually.

It's going to crash, Jasper thought, we're about to witness a massacre.

"They're falling out of the sky," he had to shout over the sound of the motor. "Why not just surrender?"

To his surprise, the Altonian laughed, a burst of sound that rivaled the din of the battle. "I think you are wrong!"

Confused, Jasper looked up again, trying to figure out what the man meant. And then he suddenly saw it.

The cruise was descending, but its trajectory was too horizontal, too regular to be anything but controlled.

It meant that its engines were still functional, that it had a destination in mind. And even as he watched huge chunks of its hull tear off and spin away, as it struggled to maintain its course, to keep itself together, a brilliant flash of light burst from an opening in its side.

There was a sudden flare of fire and smoke as a fighter was torn apart. Like a flower unfurling, it seemed to burst, pieces of it arcing off as it spiraled downward towards its demise. Just as the Skywave had done.

"I think they are not quite finished yet!" His pilot whooped at the sight of beautiful, terrible carnage. "Alto II has ever seen such excitement!"

His exclamation was somehow an understatement, Jasper decided with mounting dread. For the craft's intended target was now clear to him. Just as they raced towards Aquatime across the waves, so too did the cruise hurtle towards the resort, charging through the sky.

His body, already slumped over, nearly keeled over into the ocean.

You saved me for nothing, asshole, he projected tiredly. We're all gonna die anyway, it seems.

Maybe it'll be less painful this time?

Was that... a joke? Or a prediction? A tired smile graced his lips.

That's up to you to decide.