A little dizzily, I climbed down from the forklift and helped Ortega down after me. It hurt my arms to take her weight, but: nowhere near as much as the sudden, freezing knowledge that these were our last hours together. I didn't know where the realisation came from but it came with the solid, settling sensation in the bedrock of my mind that I had long ago learnt to trust more than rational thought. We left the re-sleeving chamber hand in hand, neither of us really noticing the fact until we came face to face with Bautista in the corridor outside and pulled instinctively apart again.