“Mother of Iapetus.”
The giant of a man surged forward, meeting the far smaller figure as she fell through the open portal into the sterile chamber of the infirmary, lifting the woman and her burden with care and bringing her to the nearest of the cold steel tables. “When you had the macaque bring me here, little fox, I must admit this was not exactly what I thought I’d find.” His dark hair brushed the ceiling of the room as he busied himself gathering several arms-full of equipment, before setting it on the metal surface beside her.
“Less interested in your opinions, Romi,” even in her native tongue, her speech was dull and slurred, every word an effort of will. “…than whether you can fix it.”