We stabilized her fully, and transferred her to recovery. Vaxon followed like a shadow, refusing to leave. Something had shifted between them, I saw it in how he stayed close, how she didn't push him away.
Elena’s story, already beginning.
But that was their journey.
Mine was with Zorn, who caught my hand as we finished treating the last casualty.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Elena almost died."
"But didn't. You saved her." He squeezed my hand. "That's what matters."
I looked around the medical bay. Patients recovering, staff efficiently handling aftermath, crisis managed and contained. This was my life now. Emergency responses and near-deaths and the constant awareness that people I loved could disappear without warning.
Chapter
Fifteen
ZORN
The suture line needed one more pass.
I leaned closer to the surgical field, adjusting the magnification on my optical enhancers. Delicate work in repairing a Kethari's circulatory system required precision that made most surgeons nervous. The species had three overlapping cardiovascular networks, each one threading through tissue so fine it could tear if you breathed too hard.
Bea stood across from me, her hands steady as stone while she held the retractors. Six months of working together had turned us into something beyond partners—we moved like a single organism, each anticipating the other's needs before they were spoken.
"Clamp," I said.
She handed it to me before the word finished leaving my mouth.
The repair took another fourteen minutes. Neither of us spoke except for necessary clinical communication. This was the part of medicine I loved most, the absolute focus, the reduction of everything complex and messy about existence down to flesh and blood and the determination to heal it.
When I finally sealed the incision, Bea released the retractors and stepped back. Our eyes met over the patient's unconscious form, and I saw the same quiet satisfaction in her expression that I felt settling into my chest.
"Beautiful work," she said.
"We make a good team."
"We make the best team." She stripped off her surgical gloves, tossed them in the biowaste disposal. "Dr. Senna's waiting in your office. Said she needs to discuss the therapy program expansion."
I checked the patient's vitals one more time, stable, excellent prognosis, then transferred monitoring duties to the nursing staff. Bea fell into step beside me as we left the surgical suite, both of us moving through the medical bay's corridors with the easy familiarity of six months' cohabitation.
The bay had changed since she'd arrived. Expanded, reorganized, infused with human sensibilities about patient care that complemented Zandovian efficiency beautifully. Bea's influence showed everywhere, in the trauma treatment protocols, the triage systems, the way we approached mental health alongside physical injuries.
She'd transformed not just the space, but the entire philosophy of how we practiced medicine.
My office occupied the medical bay's northeast corner, offering a view of Mothership's docking arrays through aviewport I'd specifically requested. Watching ships come and go reminded me why we did this work, every vessel carried beings who might need healing, and we'd be ready.
Dr. Senna rose when we entered. The Orveth psychologist had been instrumental in developing our mental health program, bringing expertise from her species' long tradition of trauma counseling. She and Bea had formed a formidable partnership, human emotional intelligence combined with Orveth psychological theory, creating something neither could have achieved alone.
"Zorn. Bea." Senna's crystalline features reflected the office lighting in fractured rainbows. "Thank you for making time."
"The program expansion," I said, gesturing for her to sit. "You mentioned yesterday that demand is exceeding capacity."
"By significant margins." Senna pulled up holographic data, request rates, wait times, patient outcomes. "We're receiving twice the counseling requests we can accommodate. The support groups are at maximum capacity. And we're getting inquiries from other vessels in the sector asking about our protocols."
Bea leaned against my desk, studying the numbers with the analytical focus she brought to everything. "We need more counselors. At least three additional staff dedicated to trauma work, two for ongoing therapy, maybe another support group facilitator."
