Commander Andreyasn has no fewer than five major bone-breaks right now.
The nanomachines in his blood have deadened all the pain. He feels nothing.
Nothing, that is, but a rhythmic staccato of sharp tactile pulses in his broken right forearm.
Ow. Ooh. Ow. Ooh. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ooh.
It is almost as if the nannies are trying to get his attention.
Dust off those thermal synapses. We're going to play "my hand is on fire" next.