Consciousness returned in fragments. Pain. Voices. Bright lights. Medical equipment beeping rhythmically.
Rama's eyes opened to white ceiling. Hospital room. Private, judging by the lack of other beds. Expensive. Someone had paid for quality care.
He tried to sit up. Agony exploded through his torso. Broken ribs were bandaged tightly. Shoulder was back in socket but immobilized. Left side of his face felt swollen and wrong.
"Don't move." Sekar's voice. She appeared at his bedside, pressing him gently back down. "You have three broken ribs, one punctured lung, severe internal bleeding that required emergency surgery, dislocated shoulder, and concussion. Moving is bad idea."
"I won," Rama said. Voice hoarse.
"You won and then collapsed unconscious while Hendra removed your mask in front of thousand people and two dozen cameras. Yes. Congratulations. Victory." Her tone was acidic. Worry and anger and relief mixed into something complicated.
"How bad is exposure?"
