"That's entirely unnecessary." He slurs. "I don't need anyone to guard me." Mainly he doesn't want a stranger around while he's restrained and offline during recharge. Unfortunately, with the amount of techs milling around that seems unavoidable.

His entire body is wound tightly, quivering and drenched in sweat. York is right about one thing, Tarn isn't going anywhere. Exhaustion grips him, aching right down to his bones.

Another wave of nausea courses through Tarn. He groans, trying to sit up.