“I can't save everyone, especially not someone who isn't willing to save themselves.'

'Damn, Xaden,' Garrick rubs the bridge of his nose. 'Way to give a pep talk.'

'If they need a fucking pep talk, then we both know they're not flying out of the quadrant on graduation day. Let's get real. I can hold their hands and make them a bunch of bullshit empty promises about everyone making it through if that helps them sleep, but in my experience, the truth is far more valuable.' He turns his head, and I can only assume he's looking at the panicked first-year. 'In war, people die. It's not glorious like the bards sing about, either. It's snapped necks and two-hundreds-foot falls. There's nothing romantic about scorched earth or the scent of sulphur. This'- he gestures back toward the citadel- 'isn't some fable where everyone makes it out alive. It's hard, cold, uncaring reality. Not everyone here is going to make it home... to whatever's left of our homes. And make no mistake, we are at war every time we step foot in the quadrant.' He leans forward slightly. 'So if you won't get your shirt together and fight to live, then no. You're not going to make it.”