"All any of us can do, I suppose," Altair said, "Guess I'm going to need to figure out where to go from here."

Not the hospital. Not back to the greenhouse.

Something would come to him, he supposed. He couldn't stay idle forever. Had to make himself useful, had to do something. Stagnation was death, and life was always moving forward. Some way or another.

All this time to think, the quiet, it... Was something he wasn't used to.

He almost missed the war.

Almost.

"Can't become dead weight, after all."