The loading bay smelled like cold metal and rain kept out by will. A small quadcopter crouched on the pad, all rotors and ribs - ten seats plus a narrow bench bolted at a rude angle by someone who believed in efficiency more than comfort. Its hull bore old scratches across the Neoshima mark, as if journeys had already argued with it.
Saffi jogged alongside the cargo cradle with a checklist and a look that said she'd memorized three other lists just in case. She wasn't coming, but that didn't stop her from orbiting Raizen.
"Seal kits" she rattled. "Thermal tabs, dual anchors, spares. Raizen - your harness stays at home. It's not stable enough to wear."
"I know that much. And please, do not change or modify anything." he replied.
