Inside, Dr. Aris Thorne was checking the vitals of his last viable asset. A young woman named Kaelen, her head shaved, a mesh of biogel patches glowing faintly on her temples. She wasn't a passenger. She was the cargo.
What happened next was not a fight. It was a geometry problem. Vess moved like a creature assembled from spare parts—her long arm jabbed, Thorne dodged, the dart went wide. She backhanded him across the bus, and he crashed into the driver’s seat, ribs cracking. Kaelen scrambled for the syringe. breedbus
He pressed a syringe into her palm. “Or you could use this. On me. Right now.” Inside, Dr