Time appeared to pass indiscriminately. One moment he was lying in a pool of his own blood, clutching a bloody stump in his good hand, and the next he was being lifted into a medevac helicopter by its robotic crew. He couldn’t say how long the flight was, but he had deduced that they would be flying to Germany, where the closest prosthesis hospital resided.
An android hovered over him. By the time they were over the Mediterranean his bleeding had stopped. No amount of anesthesia could make Logan’s pain subside. Eventually he succumbed to the pain and let his eyes roll back, falling into a deep slumber.