The ride back to Deep Karakorum was agonizing.
Lilith's gravity-drives whined as the retrofitted iron transport ascended through the subterranean tunnels, leaving the Obsidian Archive far below. Inside the passenger cabin, the air was thick with the smell of ozone, vaporized rock, and leaking hydraulic fluid.
Mara sat rigidly in the corner of the rattling transport, her spine locked against the vibrating metal bulkhead. She desperately tried to ground herself in the sensory details of the cabin, but her tactical conditioning was already running threat assessments on everyone in the room. Will sat directly across from her. His heavy-draw bow rested across his knees, and his eyes were closed. He hadn't spoken a single word to her since delivering his deadpan "lucky swing" comment back in the museum.
