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“I wanted to hear it again.”

Kesta almost laughed. “Enjoy it. It may not happen often.”

The smile in his eyes faded as he looked toward the rows of patients beyond the curtain.

“Someone is supplying equipment.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Kesta thought of Horan’s implant, the clean condenser seals, and the compatibility records that had condemned her before she ever saw Kharon-Veil.

“Because somebody wants the camp functional.”

Dreven’s expression sharpened. “Barely.”

She looked at him.

He understood quickly.

“If the empire wanted Ash Camp destroyed,” Kesta said, “it has orbital weapons. It could poison the water or strike the settlement from above. Instead equipment appears just often enough to replace what fails.”

Dreven’s eyes moved toward the busy infirmary.

“You think they are maintaining us.”

“I think they are preventing total collapse.”

“For what?”

Kesta did not want to say it.

The answer felt too much like the Helix terminology inside Major Senn’s files.

She said it anyway.

“A dead population produces no data.”

Dreven’s hand closed around the edge of the metal worktable.

The table gave a small protesting creak.

Kesta looked at his hand.

Then at him.

“Dreven.”

His fingers loosened.

“Better.”

His gaze remained on the treatment room. “You believe everyone here is part of the experiment.”

“I believe the empire considers everyone here useful for something.”

“And you?”