His mind is refreshingly easy to control without the influence of recent sleep, and he feels better than he has in days now that the bruising on his ribs has stopped causing him extreme pain with every infinitesimal movement, and in reluctant compliance Rush stands, arms folded, uncertain as to why Greta has been selected to accompany them. She has proven herself reasonably astute, and perceptive, certainly, but surely these matters extend somewhat beyond the talents of the layman.

He has been very clear on the point that he does not consider this a good idea, from a personal or scientific standpoint, but he is in no way concerned.

He is in no way concerned.

Rush inclines his head fractionally in acquiescence and looks away.

"Be warned that should the Rift make any attempts on my life as a result of this," he remarks dryly, "I will be extremely annoyed."