I’d rolled my eyes. Hadn’t thought about it again for twenty years.
Until now.
“Patience costs nothing,” I said. My fingers moved over the keyboard. “And gains everything.”
The console chimed.
AUTHORIZATION ACCEPTED.
The pressure readings dropped. The warning lights went dark.
“We’re through.” I sagged against the console. My legs didn’t want to hold me anymore. “Hour Five complete.”
Anhara’s laugh came through the comm. Rough with exhaustion and relief. “Of course it was patience. The one thing neither of us has.”
“He knew us too well.”
“He knew you.” Her voice softened. “He taught you that, didn’t he? A long time ago.”
“I’d forgotten.” I watched the readings stabilize. “I forgot I knew it at all.”
“But you remembered when it mattered.”
The two people Torek loved. Using what he gave us. Saving each other.
“One hour left,” I said.
“Turnip’s hurt. His back legs.” Her voice caught. “I left him upstairs. I had to.”
“He’ll pull through. He’s a tough pig.”
“It doesn’t make it easier.” A pause. Static. Then: “How bad are you bleeding?”
I looked down. My jacket was soaked. The console’s edge was smeared where I’d been gripping it. The puddle at my feet had grown.
The toxin was still in my blood. Three days and my body still hadn’t beaten it. Every time I moved too fast, the wound opened again, undoing whatever small progress my healing had managed.
“I’m vertical,” I said.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
“One hour.” Her voice went flat, practical. “Can you stay vertical for one hour?”
“Yes.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
The final hourwas a war against my own body.
My hands moved over the controls, but I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore. Couldn’t feel much of anything below the waist. Blood loss. The toxin was winning. I knew the signs. I was watching myself slip sideways from somewhere far away.
“Kallum.” Anhara’s voice. Anchoring me. “Secondary flow rate?”
I blinked at the console. Found the number. “Four point seven.”
