Tashika asked Bridget to get Dougan on a secure line. After a moment of blackness, Dougan’s face filled the screen, a pained expression on the elven features. He was sitting in a bed in the DocWagon clinic, the call having automatically been forwarded to his room. The interlocking plates of a blue plastichrome exoskeleton fit snugly around his neck, holding his head straight and immobile. A bandage also covered the right side of his head where it had scraped against the pavement.