Arc 1, Thread 1: Red Ink (Kendal)
"He'll be on the fifth deck, room 8," Worendi responds to him, then hangs up.
Xene listens to him and tells him to be careful- though not without the suggestion that perhaps he should inform Battles. She also slips him a small envelope, "Open it later when you're alone. Nothing important."
Sanctuary is not the most pleasant place to be. It smells of antiseptic, desperation, rot even at the best of times. He's directed through the checkpoint only after going through a rigorous investigation by the warrior-orderlies, each of them giant slabs of unhappy muscle with shock prods. They take cheek swabs from everyone who enters, puts them through some eerie glowing machine, and then direct him through.
Orderly Worendi is a strange god, vaguely Middle Eastern, like Iranian or Azerbaijani if Kendal is any judge. He gives Kendal a quick nod, "This way, sir."
Torvald's room is a mass of machinery, tubes, red blood splashed across walls and ceiling, and a full squad of Ilmorijo watching over him. His eyes are crusted red when Kendal opens and he gives a smile.
"Ah... Sena...tor..."