Transport 7 rolled out while Brock was still fastening its rear canvas flap. He braced against the opening, hooked it shut, and dropped back onto the bench beside Caleb. Opposite them, Rina held Kei's cryo magazines clear of Taichi's good boot.
The truck hit a pothole before all five had settled. Caleb tightened his restraint while their weapons knocked against the benches.
Under his standard canvas jacket, Dot's calibrated weave supported his joints as the bench shook. His right shoulder moved freely now. The healed skin beside his neck stayed dry against the collar, and his knuckles closed without splitting.
Rina checked his wrist display.
"One point two actual?"
"Still."
"Two point five is the cloth's rating. Use what you can feel through your feet."
Caleb lowered his hand. The installed tab remained seated; its single spare lay secured in his pouch. Everything he had retrieved from medbay was still with him, including the ordinary knife at his hip.
