The stealth transport smells of burnt ozone, copper, and the sharp, metallic tang of exhausted biology.
I sit on the edge of the medical cot in the rear compartment, my left arm resting heavily in the carbon-fiber sling. The neuro-blockers have worn off, leaving a dull, throbbing ache in my shoulder, but the physical pain is entirely eclipsed by the profound, heavy pressure of the moment.
Across from me, Asher is slumped against the bulkhead. His eyes are closed, his face pale, his white-and-black hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. The shimmering, metallic silver veins on his forearms are pulsing erratically, a faint, bioluminescent stutter that makes my stomach clench. The biological dampener he deployed in Zurich had absorbed the full force of the EMP shield. It had saved the t
