Rain stayed with them after the claims room.
It followed the van three blocks east, ran silver along the windows, and turned the old freight district into a smear of gray light and black water.
Hiro parked under a maintenance overhang behind a shuttered marine supply office. Nobody asked if the spot was safe. Soma had already killed the nearest cameras, and Tali was watching the street with the stillness that meant she had counted every exit twice.
Rina spread Okonye's papers across the van floor.
She did it with her knees tucked under her, sleeves pushed up, tracker forgotten beside the first stack. Each page got a corner smoothed. Each name got read. Water damage had eaten parts of the claims, but Okonye's copies had survived better than any official record of Ninth Harbor had wanted them to.
