The transport bay smelled like ozone and burned coolant when Caleb walked in. The Yoju kill was already on the bay's secondary monitor, looping. Somebody had cut the gantry-crane footage into a thirty-second highlight package with bid graphics overlaid.
Tali sat on a bench with the medical kit open. She did not look up.
"Strip to the waist."
Caleb peeled the field jacket off, then the shirt under it. The bypass module's amber light reflected off the wall.
Tali's hands were on his ribs before he had time to brace. She moved fast. Sealant gel under the cracked plate, fresh adhesive over the bruise from the Yoju shockwave, two adrenaline tabs pressed into his palm. The bay's ambient noise filled in for her.
"Hassek's still here," she said when she was done.
"I know."
"He didn't go home."
"I know."
Tali snapped the kit shut. "Suit's hanging on the rack."
The titanium case sat open on the bench. The fabric inside caught the overhead light and held it.
