Caleb sat on the edge of the stiff mattress in Barracks 4.
The rusted ceiling vent blew cold air over his damp undershirt. He tore the plastic wrapper off a dense military ration bar with his teeth. He swallowed the dry, chalky block in three massive bites. He opened a second bar. Then a third.
The hollow space under his ribs ground against his bones. The anomaly inside him demanded thousands of calories just to repair the microscopic tears in his muscles.
He looked down at his left hand.
White medical tape wrapped his palm. It covered the exact spot where the Kaiju-bone dagger had burned him yesterday. The raw material pulled a tiny fraction of heat right out of the air, resonating aggressively with the parasite in his chest.
A sharp chime rang from his wrist screen. A blue text box popped up.
[TALI: The bypass hit 94 percent capacity yesterday. You are walking a razor edge. Keep your heart rate down or the fuses melt. Do not be an idiot.]
Caleb swiped the message away.
