"Multiple casualties incoming," she said, her voice professionally neutral. "Freighter collision. The ship that took the worst damage is a Korvathi colony transport. We're looking at a species with triple redundant circulatory systems and crystalline skeletal structure that complicates standard surgical approaches. I've pulled their medical profiles."
All business. No acknowledgment of the tension between us. Just pure professional competence.
I could work with that.
"Good. Prep trauma bay three for Korvathi physiology. I'll take the primary cases. You handle the secondary trauma and coordinate with the rescue teams on triage." I moved to the central console, began assigning staff to specific stations. "ETA on casualties?"
"Seventeen minutes."
Not much time. I opened the communication channel to the rescue team. "This is Chief Medical Officer Zorn. Situation report."
Vaxon's voice came through, steady despite what sounded like controlled chaos in the background. "We're breaching the damaged freighter now. Initial scans show approximatelythirty injured, severity unknown. The Korvathi transport took the critical hit, structural collapse in their cargo bay. Unknown number trapped."
"Can you establish communication with their medical staff?"
"Working on it. Their communication systems are damaged. The rescue team is physically entering now." A pause. "Stand by."
The channel stayed open. I could hear the sounds of the rescue operation, the hiss of cutting torches, the groan of damaged hull plating, voices shouting coordinates and warnings. Mothership's rescue teams were among the best in the sector, but even the best faced limitations when dealing with severe structural damage.
Bea moved to stand beside me at the console. Close enough that I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers tightened on her medical datapad. She was listening to the rescue operation too, her mind already working through probable injuries and treatment requirements.
"Korvathi crystalline skeletal structure means fractures will be our primary concern," she said quietly. Professional observation, not personal communication. "Their bones don't break cleanly. They shatter. Fragments can damage surrounding tissue, create internal bleeding their redundant circulatory systems will try to compensate for but can't sustain indefinitely."
I nodded. "Which means we'll need precision extraction rather than traditional splinting. Have you worked with Korvathi trauma before?"
"Once. Medical rotation during my training on Earth. We had a Korvathi ambassador who'd been injured in a shuttleaccident. Similar fracture pattern." Her expression remained carefully neutral. "I can handle it."
Of course she could. Bea's competence had never been in question.
Vaxon's voice crackled through the comm. "Medical bay, we have visual on casualties. Multiple critical. Preparing for emergency transport."
"Transport authorization granted," I said. "Bring the critical cases directly to trauma bay three. Secondary injuries to bay one."
"Understood. First wave incoming in ninety seconds."
Ninety seconds. I turned to the assembled medical staff. "Positions. This is going to be intensive. Standard rotation protocols are suspended. We work until every patient is stabilized. Pel'vix, coordinate supply distribution. Dr. Santos, you're with me on primary trauma."
Bea's eyes widened fractionally. Working together meant close proximity. Meant trusting each other in high-pressure situations. Meant setting aside personal complications for professional necessity.
"Understood," she said.
The medical bay doors opened.
The rescue team transported the first casualties through on emergency gurneys. Korvathi beings, tall, angular, their skin textured like polished stone, their crystalline bones visible through partially translucent flesh. The injuries were immediately apparent. Shattered limbs. Crushed torsos. The kind of trauma that required immediate intervention or the patients would die.
"Trauma bay three!" I directed the transport team.
Bea was already moving, her hands pulling up the holographic diagnostic displays. She moved with that economy of motion that came from years of emergency medicine, no wasted movement, no hesitation.
I joined her at the first patient. A Korvathi female, her right arm completely shattered, crystalline fragments visible throughout the limb. Her breathing was labored, her triple-heart system struggling.
"Arterial damage," Bea said, her hands already moving to stabilize the limb. "The bone fragments have lacerated the primary circulatory pathway. We need to extract the fragments and repair the artery before blood loss becomes critical."
I pulled up the surgical interface. "Agreed. But we can't remove the fragments until we've stabilized her cardiac function. Her redundant hearts are compensating, but the strain will cause systemic failure."
"Then we work simultaneously. You stabilize cardiac, I'll prep for fragment extraction." Bea's voice held absolute certainty. "On my mark."
We moved in perfect synchronization. I administered the cardiac stabilizers while Bea prepared the surgical field. Her hands were steady, steadier than they'd been three days ago, when exhaustion had made them tremble. Whatever else she was avoiding, she was at least sleeping now.
