"True." She almost smiled. Zandovians weren't big on obvious emotional displays, but subtle humor existed under their stoic exteriors. "But Dr. Zorn will be pleased you attended."
As if summoned by mention of his name, Zorn entered from a side door. He moved through the crowd with that careful grace, acknowledging colleagues and crew with small nods. His eyes scanned the hall, found me in the back row, and something in his expression softened.
He made his way over, ignoring the more prominent seating near the front, and settled into the space beside me. The seat groaned slightly under his weight, designed for Zandovian proportions but still at maximum capacity.
"You came," he said quietly.
"You ordered me to. Insubordination seemed like a bad career move."
"Bea—"
"I'm joking. Mostly." I adjusted the compass pendant at my throat, a nervous habit I'd already developed. "Elena convinced me. Said celebrating survival was important."
"Elena is wise." Zorn's attention dropped to the pendant, his expression curious. "That's Earth jewelry."
"Loan from Elena. Reminder to keep moving forward even when lost."
"Appropriate metaphor." His hand moved slightly, like he wanted to touch the pendant, or touch me, but he stopped himself. Professional distance. Appropriate for a public ceremony. "How are you feeling?"
"Terrified. Angry. Resigned." I listed the emotions clinically, like symptoms during a patient assessment. "Apparently those are normal responses to mandatory therapy."
"They are. But therapy is also?—"
Captain Tor'van's voice cut through our conversation, amplified by the hall's acoustic systems. "We're here today to recognize exceptional service during the Veridian Station outbreak response."
The ceremony proceeded with typical military efficiency. Captain Tor'van detailed the outbreak: sixty-eight infected, seventeen critical, initial projections showing ninety-percent fatality rate without intervention. Then the response: four-person medical team deployed, experimental treatment protocols, successful containment and cure.
"The medical team's efforts saved sixty-five lives," Captain Tor'van continued. "Three colonists were lost in the initial infection phase before our arrival. We honor their memory while celebrating the lives preserved through exceptional medical skill and dedication."
Three. The number I'd been carrying since Veridian Station. Three names I couldn't save, three beings who died before I could help.
My chest tightened. Grief and guilt tangling into familiar patterns.
"Dr. Zorn, Chief Medical Officer. Dr. Bea Santos, Emergency Medicine Specialist. Dr. Ko'rath, Xenobiology Specialist. Nurse Pel'vix, Surgical Support." Captain Tor'van's voice resonated through the hall. "Please come forward for commendation."
Zorn stood, offered me his hand. I took it because standing alone felt impossible, let him pull me to my feet and guide me toward the front. His hand was warm, solid, anchored against the spiral of self-recrimination threatening to pull me under.
We stood in a line before Captain Tor'van, Pel'vix, me, Zorn, Dr. Ko'rath. Four beings who'd fought against death and mostly won.
"Your service exemplifies Mothership's core mission," Captain Tor'van said, presenting each of us with a commendation chip, small metallic disc that would be added to our personnel files and service records. "Rescuing the stranded, healing the injured, providing hope in crisis situations. You represent the best of what we strive to be."
Applause filled the hall. Beings of multiple species showing appreciation in various ways, Zandovians with their controlled nods, Krellians with their harmonic calls, humans with traditional clapping.
I stood frozen, a commendation chip in my palm, feeling like a fraud.
Sixty-five lives saved. Three lives lost.
The math should have been triumphant. Should have felt like victory.
Instead it felt like failure.
Zorn's hand found mine again, squeezed gently. Not quite appropriate for a public ceremony, but offering comfort I desperately needed and couldn't ask for.
"Breathe," he whispered.
I breathed.
The ceremony concluded. Crew members approached to offer congratulations. I smiled automatically, thanked them mechanically, maintained the professional facade while inside I was screaming.
