"Portable power supplies for surgical equipment. Backup generators in case their systems are compromised."
"Done. Dana's already organizing it." He paused, lowered his voice. "Bea seems well. Different than when she first arrived."
"She's healed. Still healing, technically, but functional and happy." I glanced at my friend, saw understanding in his dark eyes. "Thank you for asking."
"You're happy too. It shows."
Before I could respond, Vaxon strode in with Elena trailing behind him. The Security Chief looked grim. "Captain wants armed escort for the medical teams. This colony is in contested territory, raiders attacked last month."
"How many security personnel?"
"Six. Including me." Vaxon's scarred features showed no emotion, but I'd known him long enough to read the tension in his shoulders. "We'll keep you safe while you work."
Elena caught my attention, her expression haunted in a way that made my medical instincts flare. She was deteriorating,anyone with training could see it. Pushing herself too hard, taking unnecessary risks, exhibiting all the warning signs that Bea had shown when she first arrived on Mothership.
But now wasn't the time to address it. We had forty beings who needed saving, and personal concerns had to wait.
"Ten minutes to departure," Captain Tor'van's voice over the comm. "All medical personnel report to the transport bay."
The organized chaos intensified. Equipment being loaded, teams doing final checks, everyone moving with the practiced efficiency of crew who'd done this dozens of times before. But there was always an edge before a major rescue with the knowledge that beings were suffering, that time mattered, that someone might die if we weren't fast enough.
Bea found me in the transport bay, her emergency kit slung over her shoulder. "Ready?"
"Always." I caught her hand, squeezed gently. "We save who we can."
"We save everyone." Her jaw set with determination. "That's the job."
The transport launched exactly on schedule, Mothership's powerful engines pushing us toward maximum warp. Twelve hours of travel time gave us an opportunity to plan by reviewing casualty reports, preparing treatment protocols, organizing teams for maximum efficiency.
But it also gave time to think. To worry. To imagine all the ways this could go wrong.
Bea sat beside me, reviewing patient projections on her datapad. Her hands were steady, her expression focused, no sign of the panic that would have consumed her when we firstmet. She'd transformed completely over these past six months---from barely functional to leading trauma response, from running from emotions to sitting calmly beside her bonded mate before a dangerous mission.
"Stop staring," she said without looking up.
"Can't help it. You're magnificent when you're in doctor mode."
"I'm magnificent all the time."
"True. But especially in doctor mode."
She finally looked at me, and her smile held warmth that made my chest ache. "I'm nervous. Not about the medical work, I can do that in my sleep. But about the danger. About something happening to you."
"I'll be fine. Vaxon won't let anything happen to his medical staff."
"Vaxon can't control everything. We're going into contested territory where raiders attacked last month. We could be walking into an ambush, or?—"
I stopped her spiraling with a kiss. "We could also successfully treat forty patients and return home safely. Don't borrow trouble."
"Borrowing trouble is my specialty."
"Was your specialty. You're better now."
She leaned into me, and I felt her breathe out tension. "Yeah. I'm better now. Because of you."
"Because of us. Because you chose to heal instead of keep running."
The transport's proximity alarm chimed, twenty minutes to arrival. Everyone shifted into final preparation mode, checking equipment one more time, reviewing assignments, mentally preparing for whatever we'd find.
