Location:Seven Peaks — Medical Wing, Recovery Ward
Date/Time:TC1853.12.20 — Dawn to Evening
The medical wing smelled of spiritual salve and clean linen, and beneath both, the faint metallic tang that never quite left Craine's skin.
He lay on the surgical platform in the pre-dawn quiet, shirtless, staring at the ceiling where formation-powered light cast steady, shadowless illumination across the stone. His right arm rested at his side — Federation titanium-alloy from shoulder socket to fingertip, matte gray plating over servomotors that hadn't twitched since the wave killed every piece of technology on the continent nine days ago. Dead weight. Forty-three pounds of precision military engineering reduced to an elaborate paperweight fused to his skeleton.
