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“The distance is inadequate.”

“For infection control?”

“For judgment.”

She almost smiled. “Whose?”

“Mine.”

The answer erased the humor. Sera’s voice came through the wall speaker. “Remove the outer layers that contacted the drone. Place them in the burn tray. Tavi will run scans every hour.” Dreven turned his back before Kesta asked him to.

She stripped to the soft underlayer Ash Camp had given her and placed her coat and trousers in the tray. The fabric had been patched by Lina after the gate test. Seeing it vanish behind the sterilization shield felt like losing another small proof that she had survived.

“You can turn,” she said.

Dreven faced her in a sleeveless black under-tunic and fitted combat trousers. Without armor, he seemed more dangerous rather than less. The heavy planes of his shoulders were crossed by old restraint scars. A fresh burn marked the scales near his ribs where the drone’s tendril had struck him. Kesta’s body noticed everything before her mind could object. Silver eyes lowered to her bare legs, then lifted immediately to her face.

“Boundary,” he said.

The word had become their method for stopping assumptions before they hardened into decisions.

“No touching without asking,” Kesta replied. “No blocking the door when it opens. No using the pair-response reading as an argument for anything.”

“I would not.”

“You nearly killed Rath for implying it.”

“He implied ownership.”

“He implied design.”

“He enjoyed both.”

Kesta sat on one pallet. “Your boundary.” Dreven remained standing. “Do not approach me during a scan response unless I tell you I can control my body.” Cold moved under her skin. “You think the drone activated something.”

“I think the empire rarely measures what it cannot also provoke.”

They submitted to the first scan in silence. No nanite bloom appeared. Kesta’s band emitted a low residual charge. Two of Dreven’s old implants pulsed in answer and then quieted. PAIR RESPONSE DETECTED remained on Tavi’s recovered crystal outside the shelter, but neither spoke the words. By the third hour, political noise replaced medical fear.

Voices gathered beyond the door. Kesta recognized Pela, Keth, Sera, and two of the objecting parents. They argued over whether the second light in orbit meant another drone or a transport. Rath had sent a signal demanding a council at Red Basin. Hallow Camp’s relatives wanted a search party before the survivor trail vanished completely. Every crisis competed with every other crisis. Kesta stood beneath the vent, listening.

“They are deciding whether I am worth the cost again.”

“They already decided.”

“Decisions can change when fear gets new evidence.”

Dreven sat on the opposite pallet, forearms on his thighs. “I will not allow them to cast you out without supplies or escort.”

“That is not the same as allowing me to decide whether to go.”

His jaw tightened. “No.” At least he heard the difference now. The fourth scan triggered pain. Dreven went rigid before the diagnostic panel completed its sweep. His tail slammed into the floor. One hand caught the edge of the pallet hard enough to bend the metal frame. Kesta rose and stopped herself after one step.

“Can I come closer?”

His breath came rough. “No.” She stayed where she was. The muscles along his neck pulled tight around an implant scar. Silver light flashed beneath the skin at the base of one horn.

“Tavi,” Kesta called. “End the scan.”