"But there are no dermal burns," the tall doctor pointed out, his brow furrowing deeply. "Not a single blister or singed follicle. To keep her core temperature stable in a sub-zero environment, she would have had to huddle right against an intense heat source. An unshielded source powerful enough to fight off that kind of cold should have severely scorched her skin. Yet she doesn't have a single mark on her. The data contradicts the physical evidence."
They were trying to solve me like an equation, completely blind to the truth of the connection Kaen and I had shared. They couldn't measure the warmth that kept me alive on their corporate scanners. They couldn't quantify how his blazing fire had quieted the freezing void inside me.
The tall doctor sighed, turning away from the console. He walked toward me, pasting a gentle, intensely patronizing smile on his face. He held a small, silver datapad in his hands.
"Ms. Sorenson," he said, his voice dropping into a soft, soothing cadence. It was the exact tone of voice people used when talking to a traumatized victim on a ledge. It was the voice I had used, a lifetime ago, when I was trying to de-escalate hostages. "I know you've been through a deeply harrowing ordeal. The trauma of the eruption, the crash... it's a miracle you survived the night. Your body is currently experiencing a profound state of physiological confusion, which is entirely normal for deep-shock exposure."
I stared at him, my hands gripping the edge of the examination table. The paper crinkled loudly beneath my fingers.
"I am not in shock," I stated.
My voice was clear, sharp, and completely devoid of the flat, apathetic monotone I had used when I first arrived at the resort. I wasn't hiding behind the ice anymore. A hot, vibrant spark ignited in my chest, rushing straight to my cheeks. My jaw tightened, a physical, powerful urge to snap back that felt incredibly good to acknowledge.
The doctor's smile faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered, leaning forward slightly as if trying to physically soothe me with his proximity. "Of course. Adrenaline is a powerful chemical, Ms. Sorenson. It can mask the psychological impact of trauma for several hours. We are going to administer a mild sedative, just to help your nervous system re-establish a healthy baseline, and then we will move you to a secure, comfortable recovery suite in the Obsidian Wing."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pneumatic hypo-spray.
I didn't shrink back. I leaned forward, my dark eyes locking onto his with a fierce, uncompromising intensity.
"Put the sedative away," I ordered, my voice dropping an octave, carrying the heavy, authoritative weight of my former profession. "I am fully lucid. My vitals are stable. I have full cognitive function, and I am telling you, with absolute clarity, that I do not want your medication."
The doctor froze, the hypo-spray hovering an inch above my arm. He looked genuinely startled, completely unprepared for the sharp, aggressive pushback. He had expected a broken, numb survivor, fragile from the trauma of the crash; he hadn't expected someone who had just survived the Exclusion Zone by anchoring a literal monster.
"Where is the Warden?" I demanded, not giving him time to recover his footing.
"The... the Warden?" the second doctor stammered, stepping away from the console.
"Kaen. The Phoenix-morph who was brought in with me," I said, my voice tight. Just saying his name caused the dull ache in my chest to throb painfully. "Where did security take him? He was severely injured in the crash. His wing is badly broken, and his body is burning up from the inside."
The tall doctor straightened up, sliding the hypo-spray back into his pocket, his patronizing smile replaced by a look of corporate dismissal.
"The native staff are handled under an entirely different medical protocol, Ms. Sorenson," he said, his tone turning crisp and professional. "The Wardens have their own containment facilities designed to handle their... unique biological hazards. Manager Vance has personally overseen the Warden's transfer to the secure sub-levels. You do not need to concern yourself with the employee. Your only priority right now is resting in this safe environment."
They had locked him away. They had shoved him into a heavily shielded box while he was suffocating under the agonizing weight of his own failing biology.
The anger flared brighter, burning away the last lingering traces of the Med-Bay's chill.
"He saved my life," I said, my voice vibrating with a quiet, dangerous intensity. "He broke his wing shielding me from the crash, and he kept me from freezing to death in the cave. I want to see him."
"That is entirely out of the question," the doctor said firmly, taking a step back toward the door. "The sub-levels are restricted, and the Warden is currently considered a Class-Four thermal hazard. It would be suicidal to approach him. We willleave you to rest, Ms. Sorenson. A nurse will be stationed outside if you require anything."
They didn't wait for me to argue. The two doctors turned and quickly exited the room, the heavy, pneumatic door hissing shut behind them. The magnetic lock engaged with a loud, definitiveclack.
I was alone.
I sat perfectly still on the edge of the table, listening to the quiet, rhythmic hum of the Med-Bay's life support systems. The silence of the resort was supposed to be peaceful. It was supposed to be the ultimate luxury, a sterilized sanctuary completely isolated from the violent chaos of the planet outside the dome.
But sitting in the blindingly white room, I realized with absolute certainty that this wasn't a sanctuary. It was a prison. It was the same artificial, numbing bubble I had lived in for the past year, designed to keep the pain out by keeping the life out.
And I couldn't stay here.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep, slow breath. I focused entirely on the physical sensation in the center of my chest.
The dull, throbbing ache hadn't faded. If anything, it was growing stronger. But as I concentrated on the pain, I realized it wasn't a static sensation. It had a rhythm. It was a heavy, slow pulse that perfectly matched the memory of Kaen's massive heartbeat when my ear had been pressed against his chest.
And it had a direction.
The ache wasn't localized entirely in my sternum; it was pulling. It was a distinct, physical sensation of tension, like a heavy, invisible wire hooked directly into my ribs, dragging my center of gravity toward the western wall of the Med-Bay.
