Theta isn't Delta, he doesn't run probabilities every fraction of a second, but even broad estimates had kept ticcing worse and worse, into the red of inevitable _{total resource loss that's that his subroutines call it, total resource loss that's what it's called when North is dead and he's being swallowed up by the screaming dark inside Maine's helmet-}

"You came," he manages, tremulously, pulling himself together behind the protection of her spread between him and Sigma. The more of himself she props up and he coalesces, the more he can feel the damage already done to the suit and the throb of determination over pain on North's side of their connection, slow like the lumbering crawl of his racing heartbeat. Nudges, that's the best he can do - nudges to the safest area, Theta compiling Felix's movements so far and looking for openings he can't lunge at very easily.