Fia was ready to leave when Iven returned to the upper clinic.
Not ready in the sense of having discovered confidence. She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her boots on, looking at the empty place where the child’s folded cloths had been. Talli slept against her father’s chest. The wooden bird was wrapped in a shirt at the top of their bag.
Sera had cleared the transfer. A clinical attendant would remain with them through the gangway and the difficult receiving turn. Fia was not going to carry the load herself or prove she could walk farther than her recovery allowed.
“Good interval?” Iven asked the attendant.
“Seven-ten. They’re wanted in the assembly bay at six-forty.”
The father looked at the window. “Already?”
“Still half an hour before we go downstairs.”
He nodded. His eyes went back to the bag.
