Sleep caught Ippolit at odd hours. There were too many more important things to do. He set it aside until it crouched and pounced on him like a jungle cat. He had fallen onto his bed fully dressed, intending only to humor the need for rest until it was pacified.

A persistent buzz leeched into his dreams. Someone needed him, and he wasn't there. Something was terribly wrong.

Light and reality invaded his eyes, and he answered.

Rakitin was out and running before he could process what he'd heard.

The infirmary was crowded with the Ocelot major and people he didn't recognize. All Ippolit could see was the Colonel, unconscious, sheened with sweat, and obviously in pain. The sight drove a spike through the center of Ippolit's heart.

"Good god," Rakitin breathed. "What the hell happened?"