Day Seven

The Retribution's medical bay stretched the full length of the ships deck. It was converted from several cargo holds to accommodate the number of patients they had. Each ship held the same number, spreading the load out as best they could. Sorrel moved through the improvised ward trying her best not to bump into anyone. Seven days into their burn toward Ring-14, and she regretted her choices already, she missed her team.

With the help of doctors and the equipment from the Void Walker, almost a hundred pods lined the bulkheads, each one containing a soul pulled back from the edge of oblivion. A nightmare she would never forget seeing or fighting her way out of. The pain in her side had almost gone, healed, but the memory wasn't. She shrugged it away and made her way through the main corridor.

She was heading to her bunk when the dreaded comms call from Chief Engineer Valdez came next. "Captain, we have a problem."

She stopped walking to listen. "Send it," Crai replied.

"We're burning fuel fourteen percent above projected consumption," he reported. "At this rate, we'll reach Ring-14 with maybe six hours of reserve, that is assuming we don't need any course corrections or have any other delays."

"Why are we burning faster than we predicted?"

Sorrel knew the answer. "Our patients," she replied. "They're not as inactive as we thought, their bodies are in a heightened state of awareness akin to running. Hence, they use a lot more resources than we thought."

"Give me some options?" Crai asked.

"Reduce non-essential power consumption by another fifteen percent, maintain current burn rate, and pray we don't hit any complications."

"There are several fuel depots we could stop a—"

"No," she was adamant there. "Commissioner has likely already put out an arrest warrant for us. We enter any other territories as is, we're sitting ducks."

"Reduce the non -ssential power then?"

"Yes, do it," Crai decided. "And Valdez? Daily fuel reports from now on."

The conversation left Sorrel already regretting coming with the patients, but they needed her, the whole bedraggled fleet did.

She signed and pushed through into the medical bay. She'd spent most of her nights establishing treatment protocols for the ninety-seven patients. Each ship had accommodated, and then printed pods for them to be placed in. Each pod then had to be individually calibration. Casting a glance down the deck she noted those walking around, also checking patients. The hastily installed equipment wasn't responding as smoothly as she'd hoped but the crew of the Retribution were helping best as they could.

Her last night was once again a night of emergencies and little sleep. She'd however come down here for a reason and not to see the patients. Her wound pulsated in time to her heart; she beelined for the med scanner from the Void Walker and there she hooked herself up to run a diagnostic scan.

Full Scan – 84% - Recommend your patient keep as still as possible.

She was the patient, and keeping still was the problem, her whole body was shaking.

The second scan complete and she moved to a terminal to sit and look it over.

Metric

Baseline

Current

Status/Notes

Age

22

-

-

Height

5'8"

-

Athletic Build

Weight

155 lbs

-

Strong, Athletic Physique

BMI

23.5

-

Muscular/Athletic Range

Fitness Level

75%

-

Military/Medical professional conditioning

IQ

142

138

Slight decline due to fatigue

Neural Integration

88%

82%

Decreased due to physical stress

Cognitive Load Index

70%

85%

ELEVATED - Overworked

Perception

9/10

8/10

Medical scanner integration compensating

Dexterity

9/10

8/10

Surgical precision maintained despite tremors

Mental Energy

8/10

6/10

DEPLETED

Core Temperature

98.6°F

101.2°F

ELEVATED

Metabolic Efficiency

85%

68%

COMPROMISED

Immune Response

95%

45%

CRITICAL

Infection Markers

Normal

Moderate Bacterial

TREATMENT REQUIRED

Wound Healing Rate

Normal

60% efficiency

Impacted by infection

Sleep Efficiency

85%

25%

SEVERE DEFICIT

Psychometric Stress

2/10

7/10

HIGH - Command responsibility

Cortisol Levels

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

1.2

2.8

ELEVATED - Chronic stress

Adrenaline

1.5

2.1

Sustained by medical emergencies

Decision Fatigue

Low

HIGH

Life-or-death choices daily

The medical scanner's holographic interface flickered to life as Sorrel completed her self-diagnostic. She expected the usual readout, but instead of displaying her results privately, the system's AI activated emergency protocols.

"Medical assessment complete. Forwarding priority health alert to commanding officer as per Retribution medical protocols."

"What?" Sorrel's hands flew to the interface controls. "Cancel that transmission."

"Unable to comply. Patient demonstrates critical health markers combined with command responsibility for ninety-seven additional patients. Protocol Seven-Alpha requires notification of senior officer when key medical personnel are compromised."

The transmission was already gone.

"Well, this is going to be fun," she moved to the meds lockers and opening it pulled out the needed meds, then she started an IV and sat waiting for the inevitable.

It wasn't ten minutes later that Captain Crai's boots echoed through the medical bay as she approached.

"Doctor." Crai's voice carried the formal weight of command, one Sorrel didn't want to hear right at this very moment. "I just received an interesting message from our medical AI."

Sorrel didn't look up. "I'm fine, Captain. You had no need to come visit me personally."

"Bacterial infection," Crai reported off. "101-degree fever. Sleep deprivation, and you're self-medicating." Crai moved to stand directly in front of her. "That's your definition of fine?"

Sorrel rattled the IV. "I'm on antibiotics. The fever will break in twelve hours." She finally met the woman's eyes and flinched. "I'm functional."

"The AI disagrees. It flagged you as a medical risk to yourself and the patients under your care."

"The AI doesn't understand triage." The irritation in her voice clear. Captain Crai didn't flinch though. Likely having dealt with many doctors over the years. "These patients need constant monitoring. Their neural reconstruction can't wait for me to take a nap."

Crai pulled up the medical report on her portable display. "Immune response at 45 percent. Sleep efficiency at 25 percent." She looked up sharply. "Three hours of sleep per night. You're running on fumes."

"I'm running on necessity." Sorrel made to move but Crai stopped her. "You want me to rest while people die?"

"I want you functional. If you collapse during an emergency because you've pushed yourself past breaking point, how many people die then?"

Sorrel's hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the treatment settings. The small motion didn't escape Crai's notice.

"When did you last eat a full meal?" Crai asked and Sorrel could hear real concern, not just power play.

"I eat."

"Combat rations grabbed between emergencies don't count." Crai stepped closer. "The AI's recommendations include mandatory rest, IV fluids for dehydration, and nutritional supplementation. It also suggests I have override authority if your condition deteriorates."

"You're not a doctor." She managed to pull out another IV at least, then proceeded to hook it up.

"No, but I'm the captain of this ship, and you're essential personnel showing signs of medical compromise." Crai's voice softened just a touch. "Sorrel, I've seen good officers destroy themselves trying to save everyone else. It doesn't work. You burn out, you make mistakes, and people die anyway."

Sorrel paused at Leon Chen's pod, her reflection visible in the transparent surface. Dark circles under her eyes, pale skin with a thin sheen of perspiration. She looked as exhausted as she felt.

"How many patients have we lost?" she asked quietly.

"Six."

"And how many would we have lost if I wasn't here? If I was sleeping eight hours a night while their neural pathways degraded?"

Crai was quiet for a moment. "I don't know."

"Neither do I. But I know what happens when medical personnel aren't available during critical phases of treatment." Sorrel turned to face her. "I've seen consciousness extraction victims die because no one was monitoring their neural reconstruction during the crucial first weeks."

"And I've seen medical officers collapse from exhaustion and make errors that killed patients they were trying to save."

The two women stared at each other across the medical bay, surrounded by the quiet hum of life support systems keeping thirty-one damaged souls alive.

"Compromise," Crai said finally. "You take four hours of real sleep. I post a medical tech to monitor the critical cases and wake you for any genuine emergencies."

"Four hours isn't enough to—"

"It's twice what you're getting now. And you eat a proper meal, not whatever scraps you've been living on."

Sorrel looked around the bay at her patients. Clara's peaceful face, Leon's steady breathing, the steady rhythm of machines keeping them all alive.

"The infection treatment should start working within twelve hours," she said finally. "Temperature should normalize, immune response should improve."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then we reassess." Sorrel moved toward her makeshift office area. "Four hours. But if anything changes with the critical cases—"

"You'll be the first to know."

As Sorrel headed toward her bunk, Crai called after her: "Doctor? The AI was right to flag this. You're no good to these people if you work yourself to death."

Sorrel paused at the medical bay entrance. "Neither are they if I don't."

***

Day Eight

Sorrel woke feeling groggy, but there were no alarms, she checked her temp, it was down, but not enough. She pulled out the IV and gave herself one more shot before she moved to wash and dress.

Then she made her way to the medical ward and stopped by her first patient. "Clara Voss, Mining Technician," she read from the nameplate as she checked the young woman's neural activity. The synaptic reconstruction nanites were responding, but slowly. Clara's brain had been subjected to three separate extraction attempts before Braker's people had given up on her basically leaving her for dead. She wasn't dead. Not yet, she was fighting.

The beeping from her monitoring equipment had changed in just four hours. It wasn't worse, just different. Neural pathways were trying to rebuild themselves, creating new patterns as the damaged areas slowly healed.

Sorrel adjusted the nanite flow rate and made notes in Clara's chart. Recovery would take weeks, maybe months. If they made it to Ring-14. Stop thinking like that…

"Nanite integration is at sixty-seven percent," she said aloud. "Synaptic regrowth showing consistent patterns. Motor cortex damage appears to be reversing, but higher cognitive functions remain suppressed. Recommend continued nanite therapy with gradual stimulation protocols."

No she really wasn't dead, not yet.

"Are you talking to yourself again, Doc?"

Sorrel looked up to find Captain Crai approaching, carrying two cups. "You checking on me already?"

"Saw you move, thought you could do with some good coffee not the stuff from the mess halls.

"I'm just keeping detailed records," Sorrel accepted one of the cups gratefully. It just about passed for coffee. "Dr. Chen will need every piece of data when we arrive. These cases are unlike anything…."

"Because the bastards at Braker Corporation were pioneering new ways to torture people?"

"Because no one else could have dreamed up this nightmare, but them." Sorrel waved a hand to the pods around them. "Take young Clara… They didn't just damage her brain. They tried to extract who she was. The nanites aren't just repairing neural pathways, they're rebuilding the foundation of that."

"We don't have enough nanites though do we?"

Sorrel shook her head. "we're a stop gap till they can get full treatment at Ring-14."

"But we're better than nothing? They'd have died back at Kepler, right?"

"Sorrel knew she frowned, but she tried to smile. "They have the best chance we could give them despite the circumstances."

"Would staying have killed them?"

"I don't think we'll ever know the answer to that question."

Crai studied the readouts, but she frowned. "Are any of them responding?"

"Much better than I dared hope." Sorrel said. "The protocols Peyton developed, combined with the nanite treatments. It's like watching people come back from the dead." Sorrel adjusted the sedation levels on Clara's pod, putting her into a slightly deeper sleep. She needed the rest.

"Funny how you can do it for others, but not for yourself?" Sorrel frowned at her. "Will it take long for them to wake up?"

Sorrel shook her head. She didn't have an answer to that question. "It's going to be months before we know the full extent of the damage done on Kepler. Some of them may never be the same."

"Come," Crai said. "You should rest."

"I should say the same for you," Sorrel said as they moved through the bay together. Sorrel noted how Crai examined each patient with genuine concern rather than the detached assessment of cargo. It was something she'd noticed about the captain over the past few days. Despite her gruff exterior, there was something that didn't quite add up. Guilt, maybe?

They paused at pod 15. "He's showing irregular neural spikes," Sorrel said. The middle-aged man's chart flashed up. "Leon Chen. Ironic that he shares a name with the doctor who's going to save him. His extraction was particularly brutal. They tried multiple procedures before giving up."

"Multiple?"

"From his notes he was one of the first they tried this particular technique on. It wasn't perfect and when the first extraction failed, they'd try again. And again." Sorrel's voice turned to steel.

Crai put her coffee down. "How the fuck is he even alive?"

Sorrel shrugged. "Sheer stubborn human will, near as I can tell. His consciousness retreated inside so deep that their equipment couldn't reach him. Now he's fighting his way back to the surface." Sorrel adjusted the stimulation settings, only by a fraction, but it was enough.

"Is it likely he can recover in full? Any of them?"

"His trauma pathways are severely compromised. Even if he recovers full cognitive function, the will be deep psychological scars..."

"Will that be something Dr. Chen can deal with?"

"It will be something he'll learn to deal with." Sorrel moved to the next pod. "Every person in this bay is a witness to what Braker Corporation was doing. When they wake up, when they remember—the ripple effects will reshape how the Coalition approaches corporate oversight, and how they move forward."

"You think even with the tech Peyton designed this isn't the last?"

"No," she shook her head. "This is tech that will continue to evolve and change. Peyton and Dr. Martinez will have to keep learning and adapting for it to stay effective."

Even if Sorrel found it odd the captain of the ship down here helping her, they worked together side by side for the next hour. Checking vitals, adjusting treatments, and documenting their progress. She started to appreciate Crai's steady presence. The captain asked intelligent questions without getting in the way, and offered practical assistance without overstepping set medical boundaries.

"You're thinking about them," Crai said quietly as they reached the end of the central ward.

Sorrel didn't need to ask who she meant. "Every minute."

"Derek was worried when he told me he was staying with Peyton." Crai leaned against the bulkhead, and Sorrel took in everything she was, Captain sure, but also human. "Not of the mission," she continued. "We've both faced death more times than I can count, but he admitted he didn't want to lose touch with me again."

"And you let him go anyway."

"Because it was the right thing to do." Crai said. "Your Captain needed people he could trust absolutely. Derek's proven himself in that regard. Doesn't make it easier to fly away though."

Sorrel brought up another patient's readings, buying herself a little time to process Crai's admission. In the days since their departure, she and Crai had developed an unexpected rapport. Despite her dressing down, Captain to Doctor, Sorrel respected the fact she had stood up to her. They were both strong women in positions of authority, both accustomed to making life-and-death decisions, both currently helpless to protect the people they cared about the most.

"We've never really spent much time apart," she said finally. "Not since we first met…."

"I won't tell him," Crai said. "You have my confidence."

"Should be the other way around," she laughed. "Doctor…."

"Sometimes its good to reverse roles. Besides I'm the Captain. Everyone talks to me."

"Really?"

"They've no one else above me they'd trust, that matters. Not anymore."

"Tim?"

"He's still out there," Crai said.

"Think he's gone, or worse…"

"Honestly I don't know, he should have headed for Braker's facilities—"

Sorrel looked up to find Crai watching her with a frown.

"But really, you don't think he will have?"

"He doesn't like to lose," she said. "He'll likely follow your fleet."

Sorrel cursed. "They know that?"

"Derek does, he won't underestimate what might be waiting for them around the nearest corner. He knew Tim was no good years before I did."

"We're quite the pair, aren't we?" Crai said. "Leaving the people we care about to fly into danger while we head the opposite direction."

"At least Derek has Peyton watching his back. He's proven he'll burn the universe down to protect his people. Plus, Mac, who's almost as stubborn about keeping everyone alive as Lev is."

"The four of them together, Peyton, Mac, Lev, Derek. They make a good team."

Sorrel paused at another pod, this one containing a teenage girl whose neural pattern also fluctuated wildly. "Doesn't stop the worry though."

"No," Crai agreed. "It really doesn't. But its comforting knowing their reputations."

"Haba's Last Light?"

"That and Lev has quite the record."

"You looked them up?"

"Did you not when you learned their true identities?"

"Touché," Sorrel said. "Seeing it all on paper, as well as seeing the experiences, it's a whole other thing."

"Because they're fully trained and experienced military?"

"They've been through so much to get to here."

Crai cocked her head to one side, "And you haven't, daughter of Hinada Tech?"

Sorrel laughed this time even louder, which made her side hurt.

"Sorry," Crai's said immediately moving to offer support.

"Don't be, that's the first time I've laughed like that in what seems like an age."

Crai's direct approach came with no platitudes or false comfort, just blunt honesty and she liked that. She liked it a lot. Having female friends had never been a thing for her, here now, she found she wanted it.

"What about you?" They reached the auxiliary medical bay and Sorrel paused. "How do you handle sending people you care about into danger?"

"Compartmentalization, mostly." Crai replied. "I focus on what I can control. The ship's condition, crew readiness. Their tactical preparation. Honestly, I try not to think about a million things that could go wrong." Crai paused beside a pod containing an elderly man whose readings showed minimal neural activity. "But at night, when the ship's quiet and there's nothing immediate to manage..."

"The mind wanders."

"That it does," Crai confirmed. "Usually, to places I'd rather it didn't."

Sorrel nodded, she understood that completely. The small hours of the night shift, when medical protocols were running automatically and there was nothing to do but wait and worry.

"Hence I'm here now," Sorrel said. "I'm only averaging three hours of sleep."

"You could..."

"Give myself something?"

Crai nodded.

"No, not happening. I need to function. I will function."

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