MasukSeven returns as a transaction.No body through the wall this time.No gray coat.No face that steals mine and gives it back with less damage than it should.Only Kovac's deck channel clicking on while she is arguing with the legal woman through a locked bulkhead."Deck triage Kovac," Seven says.Kovac looks at the ceiling."Absolutely not."Seven continues, "Route delay available."Sarah steps closer to the speaker."Say price."Kovac points at her. "This is my channel.""Then negotiate faster."Seven says, "Exchange required."I am in the treatment bay with the fish box, Leo's waterproof bag, Nadia, the doctor, Sarah, Kovac, Sami, and three patients pretending not to listen from behind a curtain.The ferry has become very bad at privacy.The dead label printer still has Kovac's warning taped across its mouth.REGISTRY FIRE / DO NOT LET PRINTERS TALK.The ta
The second decline is quieter.That makes it worse.No alarm.No printer.No visible heat crawling up the treatment bay wall.My son simply stops accepting the dropper.Nadia tries once, twice, then lowers her hand and watches his mouth close around nothing."No," she says.It is the smallest word in the room.Everyone hears it.The field unit panel sits on its oxygen crate with new wires braided into Kovac's local battery pack. The doctor has built a release line from a surgical clamp, two copper clips, and Sarah's belief that every important thing should be breakable by hand.Sarah tests the release every few minutes.The doctor hates this.The release works."He is tired," I say.Nadia does not let me keep the gentle version."He is spending more to stay in the same place."Leo says through the comm, "Second contact possible.""No," I say.Immediate
Damian reaches us as paper.It is unfair.It is also fitting.The message comes through the legal woman's broken document case after Kovac's deckhand finds it jammed under a bench and brings it in with two fingers."It is buzzing," he says.Kovac looks at it. "Then put it somewhere else.""It says urgent cardiac liability."Everyone stops.Sarah closes her eyes."Of course it does."The case screen is cracked from the bullet Seven redirected. Under the fracture, text scrolls in Board formatting so clean it feels washable.MORTON SUBJECT D.M.HEART FIELD INSTABILITY ESCALATING.TRACE LINK INTERRUPTION CORRELATES WITH INFANT SOURCE LOCAL ATTEMPT.RECOMMEND IMMEDIATE RECAPTURE OF MATERNAL SOURCE AND SECONDARY ANCHOR.Kovac reads the first line and looks at me."You collect complicated men.""No."Sarah says, "She collects disasters. Men attach themselves."
The field unit prints on the wrong machine.That is how the next bad thing starts.Kovac's old medication label printer in the treatment bay coughs awake after three years of printing nothing more dangerous than soup inventory.One white label slides out.Then another.Then six.Kovac stares at it."No."The printer continues."I said no."Sarah lifts a label with the tip of her knife.Nadia says, "Do not touch it.""With what part of me?""Any part attached to you."Sarah turns the label toward us.INFANT SOURCE / TEMPORARY REGISTRATIONANCHOR: SECONDARYVESSEL: SAINT LARKSTATUS: PENDINGKovac's face goes blank in a way I do not like."That printer is not networked."The doctor takes another label with forceps. "Pharmacy inventory?""Old local system.""Local to what?""The boat."Leo speaks from the storage
The Renn-line woman does not give her name.She gives the name she wants me to hear."Renn."Kovac removed the gauze from her mouth after making her bite a rolled towel twice to prove she could stop. Renn spat blood afterward and told Kovac her ferry smelled like wet charity.Kovac said, "Accurate. Bite again and I remove teeth."Renn has behaved since.Mostly.She is strapped to a bench beside the laundry cabinets, one wrist bandaged, one ankle swollen, mouth split where Sarah hit her with the tray. She looks at me like hate is the only splint keeping her upright.Sarah stands behind my left shoulder.Nadia stands behind my right because she still thinks I might fall.She is not wrong.I have Kovac's `DECISION HOLDER` strip folded in my coat. In my hands, I carry Seven's smear tray and a gauze packet Nadia did not want to give me.Renn sees the tray first."Copy blood," she says."Seve
Kovac finds a pencil before she finds a bandage.That tells me plenty about Saint Lark."Deck liability," she says, ripping the back off an inventory form and slapping it onto an oxygen crate. "If you people are going to perform illegal experimental medicine in my storage bay, I want rules I can pretend I hated."Sarah stands at the door with a towel over one arm and a knife under the towel."That sentence contradicts itself."Sami, sitting on a coil of rope with a split lip, raises his hand."Am I nephew?""Pipe consultant," Kovac says without looking.Sarah mutters, "Do not promote him."Kovac writes at the top of the form:STORAGE BAY PROCEDURE / TEMPORARY / EVERYONE DENIES LATER.The doctor looks pained. "That is not a sterile header.""Neither is the floor."Nadia kneels beside the fish box, sorting supplies into piles: clean enough, dirty but usable, no, and ask Kovac if desperate.
Seventeen cameras. Eight armed guards. One way out, and it's a thirty-story drop if the elevator cables snap.I count them before my boots clear the lobby's marble threshold. It's a reflex—a rhythm as natural as the pulse I'm working so hard to flatten.One guard stands by the revolving door, his pa
The lab doors haven't finished sealing before Julian drops into his chair.His breathing is wet and uneven, a man hyperventilating in slow motion. He won't look at me. His eyes are fixed on the space where Damian stood, as though the air there has been permanently altered."He knows," Julian says. T
The silence Damian leaves behind has weight.It settles on my eardrums, humming with the residual ozone of his presence—the particular frequency of a man who bends gravity when he walks into a room. He's gone to handle the Harvester at the perimeter, and the warning he left with me is still sitting
The magnetic seal of the nursery door settles with a heavy, metallic thud that travels through the soles of my feet.I stay pinned against the wall, listening.My right arm is dead weight—a limb of static and ice from the bio-EMP I channeled through the locket. The DNA Key collected its tax in full,







