As Cassian fought with the screaming controls, his mind wasn't on the mission that was about to die with him, the enemies who'd finally gotten him, or his probability of survival—even as his body and training continued to try and optimize both chances (survival and mission retrievability), steering the dying craft away from its killers and to a neutral crash zone (where he also wouldn't hurt anyone collaterally).

No… his mind went to Draven. Warning him: These near-things are starting to look like a death wish. I'm this close to taking you out of the field or assigning you a partner.

Did he want to die? He didn't want to fail. Take the mission with him. Take out anyone else. But in the abstract…?

Jerón's face, physically the same but flattened somehow. Khryw never coming back. Dorosz, Narede, Xilo, all the others it took effort not to recite

It wasn't really the moment to dwell on it… on the other hand, when and what else?

Okay. He was away from the turrets and from habitations. The ground swirling up to meet him was predominantly sand: not as good as water but better than stone. Even if he didn't make it, the black box might. He spared one hand to further strap himself in, even while he tried to ease the angle of chaotic descent.

Cassian wasn't sure to whom this other thought was addressed, but it was his last one before blacking out. I'm sorry