The lane Eilas and the others were walking through opened onto a larger space.
If he had to guess, it had once been a loading yard.
Flat poured concrete, now covered in modular flooring. Tall, tubular lights cast a blue-white glow over everything. Folding medical stations had been set up in two rows, each occupied by at least one person in partial armor with a med rig at their side.
A large transparent tank sat against one wall, filled with a pale green solution. A suit hung above it, dripping.
'They still decon by immersion', Elias thought. 'That seems…wasteful.'
Necessary, the creature corrected. You hate chaos, but you hate anyone else's version of order even more.
People moved through the space with the brisk exhaustion of those who had been awake too long—soldiers, med techs, logistics runners carrying crates marked with biohazard symbols.
No one was panicking. No one was shouting. It was wartime efficiency, stretched thin but still holding.
