A hand cupped her elbow; it was Gallagher, a field medic. He looked worse than Alice felt, the side of his face blackened, teeth missing. Two stim patches nuzzled against his neck and his pupils were like saucers. Still, he was here, alive. The desire to babble platitudes, to hug him, was so strong Alice had to push him away, breathe deep, act like a goddam Marine for once.