Senna grabbed his wrist before he could sit down.
"Not yet. Come with me."
"I just spent four hours on the field."
"I know. Come with me anyway."
She pulled him into the back room of the clinic, away from the wounded lined along the front wall, and shut the door. A stack of papers sat on the table, her handwriting filling every line, dates and numbers and short notes in tight rows.
"Sit," she said.
Kane sat.
"Wound closure rate," Senna said, flipping the first page around to face him. "Day one after the raider camp, standard human healing. Day four, closing thirty percent faster. Yesterday, the cut on your shoulder closed in under six hours. That's not gradual improvement. That's acceleration."
"I noticed."
"There's more." She flipped to the second page. "Reaction speed. I watched
