Nox read Vasa's route trace before he set a foot toward the freight door. The capital spine ran east from the intake hall, straight and open for a district. The cores were that full district ahead of any pursuit, and the gap was not closing on its own.
His shoulder pulled when he pushed off the desk, the lost cartilage still ungrown under Mercy's ownership claim. The toll no longer priced his motion, but the old wound stayed open with his regeneration offline. Mercy still held the deed to the joint, and the arm answered on loan.
"She is a district ahead on a locked route, and the road is slow but the head start still counts," Nox said, reading the trace off the relay. "I am not chasing a woman, I am chasing a schedule, so put me on the spine and give me the convoy," he said.
