"You're awake?" I find myself looking at the most dangerous looking mother—er, man—I've ever seen. I know that face. I know that voice even better. It's Technico, Zoe's dad. "Good. We need that bed. Get up, you should be able to, now." "Water," I rasp out. A woman in a black nurse's outfit moves forward, slipping a straw into my mouth. I take a drink, almost choke, and drink some more. It feels good being able to swallow easily. When she pulls away the straw I start to sit up. She looks panicked. "You shouldn't be—" "He's fine," Technico says. "He's in better shape than most. Aubrey's got skills I never thought I'd see in someone her age." I feel a little light headed, really, but I'm sitting up. I hold my hand up, staring at the thin metal lines that swirl over my flesh. "I thought I was fine," I say.