"27 degrees of freedom, Brainstorm," Nautica said emphatically, as though he'd been there all along and was privy to whatever disjointed thoughts were working their unsteady way through her mind. Holding up her hand, she made exaggerated grabbing motions directed at his face but ending up somewhere around his Autobrand, the highest she could reach while he was standing.

"I counted." She was talking about the sum of different directions every joint in the hand and wrist could move. She'd gotten it right, too, despite the painkiller haze.