Rich comes through the door. The techs look up from what they're doing. The robotic arm holding the Epsilon chip stills in midair as the techs stop piloting it. (Medtech manipulated entirely by humans is a bit unorthodox, but it turns out having too many AI involved in the torture-and-implant-a-fellow-AI process is bad for morale.)

For a moment, Wash can breathe. It worked. It actually fucking worked.

And then Rich explodes into action, manages to down just about everyone in the room, and frees Wash. He sits up and clasps Rich's hand in one of his own. He needs that second or two to calm down and get his mind right and breathe, and human contact helps with that.

Okay. Okay. He can do this.

"Then I guess it's my job to get us out of here." He lets go of Rich's hand, stands up, removes his helmet from a hook on the wall, and puts it back on, waiting the half-second for the HUD to boot. "The hangar isn't too far from here. We can probably-"

And then he notices the scalpel still sticking out of Rich's leg. "You weren't kidding about the giraffe thing, huh." He crosses the room and starts rummaging through drawers. This is a goddamn medical facility - even if it's constructed of his memories or magic or whatever the fuck Chronoblivion runs on, it should still have-

Yep, there it is. He removes a canister from the drawer and looks at Rich. "I can help you with that, but it's gonna hurt."