Mordin examined, for the umpteenth time, the bandages that held his right arm unmoving at his side. The injuries he'd sustained know the destruction of the Shroud had been severe, and ultimately he knew he was lucky to be alive. But having regained consciousness he was ready to be working, and being unable to type was putting a distinct crimp in any plans he might have made for productive time. But he could still speak -- and that was good, because he had more than one important call to make. His survival had been kept fairly quiet for reasons of STG security -- not to mention a livid Dalatrass -- but a few people could be allowed to know. And Shepard... well, Mordin had no intention of keeping Shepard in the dark. He thumbed at the omni tool in his lap with his good arm, entered Shepard's Extranet address, and waited for the call to go through.
