Julian Vance did not look away from the glowing emerald lens above him.
The air beneath the catalog desk was already shimmering with ionized static and acidic heat.
“Check the steel tray again, Doctor,” Julian commanded in a low, measured voice.
Dr. Corvo ran two gloved fingers across the polished surface of the surgical autopsy tray.
“Thirty-gauge surgical stainless steel,” Corvo reported with clinical calm. “Manufactured in nineteen seventy-four by the Marrow Surgical Supply Corporation.”
“Will it hold up against one thousand watts of concentrated light?” Elena asked, adjusting her grip on Mac’s belt.
“The melting point of thirty-gauge stainless steel is fourteen hundred degrees Celsius,” Corvo replied. “It will not melt, Charge Nurse. But it will conduct heat with astonishing rapidity.”
“Then we hold it until our gloves smoke,” Mac grunted, testing his footing against the frosted glass.
