“I came here for the ship’s compass,” the victim explained. “It’s the only one aboard that’ll work in this messed up magnetic field. I reckoned we’d need it.” They stretched out an arm, half-heartedly. Just beyond their fingers, a shattered metal case spilled viscous fluid and gears out onto the sand. “I’m more worried about you,” Garnas said. “Where does it hurt?” “Where doesn’t it hurt?” The chuckle turned into a damp moan. Garnas got no response when he tested Yazhu’s arms and legs, but the hiss of pain when he pressed gently on the ribs suggested a break. It was not an encouraging sign. Moving the injured would ordinarily be considered an error, but there was no alternative here.