The Inner Genesis Cathedral had finally grown still, the oppressive scent of scorched copper and boiling heavy water slowly giving way to the cold, sterile hum of backup life-support systems.
Arthur Vance didn’t right away rush toward the sealed archive doors. A combat medic’s first duty upon securing an outer edge was the body steadying of his unit. Tactical victories were meaningless if the combatants succumbed to body-energy collapse or delayed shock in the immediate aftermath.
Arthur unclipped his field medical satchel. He knelt upon the damp flat stone slabs beside the cooling reactor dais.
“Grimm, front and center,” Arthur commanded softly.
The jet-black hound trotted forward, his massive paws splashing lightly in the shallow water. Grimm lowered his huge head, resting his chin comfortably across Arthur’s knee. The hound’s breathing was heavy. His gravity aura flickered like a dying candle as his sixty-ton moving hard effort took its certain heat toll. Arthur reached into his satchel, producing a thick slab of packed marrow brisket cured in nutrient salts and tightly packed monster fat.
Grimm’s golden eyes widened with undisguised canine delight. He took the meat from Arthur’s gauntlet with gentle teeth, tilting his head back to swallow the dense nutrient block in two massive, starving gulps. He gave a sharp, wet snort of satisfaction—chuff!—and leaned his entire flank heavily against Arthur’s chest, demanding and receiving a vigorous ear scratch that caused his rear leg to thump rhythmically against the stone.
