Something in Skydive closed off at the implications. He was a soldier, he'd been prepared for the chance. It was in his programming to deal.

"I'm sorry."

Still. All he could think of, really, was his team. Silverbolt or Air Raid, Slingshot or Fireflight. For all the neutral, soft, understanding tone of his words, Skydive still looked a little startled. He was five weeks old - soldier or not death was still something he had trouble grasping.