Four hours after the extraction team pulled Hiro out of the frozen maintenance trench, Caleb sat in the mess hall and ate fake steak that tasted like salt and burned garlic powder.
The fight under the artisan sprawl had already been turned into paperwork. Hiro had two bruised ribs, a split lip, and a temper that came back before his color did. Iharu's squad had dragged the nitrogen crawler's remains to quarantine. Tali had signed off on the insulated sheath with both hands shaking from too much stimulant and not enough sleep.
Caleb ate every bite anyway.
Rank C stipend meant the premium menu line instead of the gray paste vat at the back of the mess. He sawed through the slab with a dull serrated knife, chewed slow, and let the calories settle. The thing under his ribs took the food without arguing today. That was as close to peace as he got anymore.
