=/\= Green Sky, Red Heart – Act VI=/\=
*USS Brawley – Cargo Bay 3*

The emergency klaxon had faded, but the air still thrummed with tension. Cargo Bay 3 bore scars of the recent skirmish. There were scorched bulkheads, scattered debris, and the acrid scent of burnt conduits hung stale in the air. A forcefield shimmered at the far end to seal a breach that opened the bay to the void. A damage control drone and larger manned workbee shuttle maneuvered with precision. Both units worked together to repair the hull’s integrity.

Lieutenant Binedra Dowa stepped into the bay. Her cobalt-blue skin contrasted sharply against the Brawley’s dim emergency lighting. Delicate amber irises scanned the scene, taking in the injured crew members and the strewn chaos around them.

“Status report,” the Bolian called out, her voice steady.

Petty Officer Laren, one of the first medical technicians to arrive on site responded. “Five injured, Lieutenant. Two ensigns and three enlisted. Initial scans indicate fractures, contusions, and possible neural trauma.”

Binedra nodded, already moving towards the nearest injured officer. She knelt beside a Vulcan named Ensign T’Var. She was conscious but clearly in pain. The medical tricorder hummed softly as she scanned her.

“Fractured femur and mild cranial impact,” Binedra murmured. “We’ll need to stabilize her before transport.”

She activated her commbadge. “Dowa to Sickbay. Prepare for incoming patients. The Cargo Bay 3 patients require immediate attention.”

“Acknowledged, Lieutenant,” came a prompt response.

Turning to Petty Officer Laren, Lt. Dowa instructed, “Prepare the osteogenic stimulator. We’ll need to address the fractures before moving her.”

Laren retrieved the device from their medkit. The item’s sleek design reflected the bay’s flickering lights. Binedra applied the bone-growth stimulator to T’Var’s leg. Those gathered watched as the it emitted a soft glow while promoting regeneration from within the cracked bone marrow.

Crewman Jalen groaned nearby, clutching his side. Binedra quickly moved to him next. Her tricorder revealed multiple rib fractures and a punctured lung.

“Administer a hypospray with tri-ox compound,” she directed another technician. “We need to stabilize his breathing before transport.”

As the team worked efficiently, Binedra’s thoughts briefly drifted to the forcefield and the void beyond. The sight of the repair efforts reminded her of the fragility of their situation. She fought to push the thought aside. She tried to focus on the task at hand.

“Ensign Lira,” she addressed another injured officer, “you have a dislocated shoulder and a mild concussion. We’ll treat you here.”

Using a neural stimulator, she addressed the concussion. Binedra next guided Lira’s shoulder back into place with practiced ease. An enlisted medic’s dermal regenerator sealed the superficial wounds, leaving almost no trace of the injury.

Once all patients were stabilized, Binedra gave the order to transport them to Sickbay. She took a moment to survey the bay once more. The chaos had been managed. The tension underlying their situation remained. She knew there would be more challenges ahead. They seemed to have settled the immediate crisis here… For now.

“Good work, everyone,” she said. Her voice carried a note of quiet determination. “Let’s get back to Sickbay.”

As the team gathered their equipment, the forcefield continued to shimmer at the room’s edge. It was the only barrier between them and the void of the Universe. The glimmering form stood as a reminder of the thin line between safety and peril the crew treaded.

=/\=Several Minutes Later =/\=

Lt. Binedra Dowa and the team stepped through the Sickbay doors just as another wave of crewmembers limped in alongside her. She’d barely peeled off her triage gloves when the sight of a corridor full of uniforms hit her. Ensigns. Petty officers. Crewmen. Some walked. Others were helped in. Those in a bad state arrived on anti-grav stretchers, pale and groaning.

The Bolian blinked once.

Sickbay on the Brawley wasn’t meant for this. It was compact, efficient and made to handle emergencies. Sudden waves like this could still quickly become overwhelming.

The medical staff had already begun organizing patients. Medtechs called out names and conditions. Nurses guided injured officers towards biobeds. Curtains were pulled tight around them to provide some form of privacy. A room full of monitors beeped and blinked. An illuminated bio-support frame hummed to life as it lowered around a barely-conscious crewman suffering from plasma burns.

“Start triage queue two in the exam alcove,” Binedra ordered as she stepped around a busy technician. The Betazoid nurse nodded to Binedra as he treated a petty officer with a bleeding scalp. “Use dermal regenerators for soft tissue. Prioritize neural impacts. If you need to, use synaptic stimulators if we’re low on stasis fields.”

“Aye, Lieutenant”, several voices replied.

Binedra caught a brief glimpse of her own reflection in a polished diagnostic panel. Her violet lip-shade remained unblemished. It briefly connected her to her sense of expression and reminded her who she was in this sad, stressful moment. Her golden eyes studied her expression, set with quiet purpose and a cool resolve. After a quick deep breath, the steady Bolian moved on.

The next patient was an ashen-faced ensign, bracing his arm awkwardly. His red-shirted uniform was torn across the shoulder.

“Osteogenic fracture,” Binedra noted, scanning. “Mid-humerus. Minor radial nerve compression. You’ll feel heat around the damage. This is normal.” The doctor forced a weak smile.

She activated the osteogenic stimulator and began realigning the patient’s bone matrix. A flash on the screen confirmed cellular reconstruction appeared successful.

“Can you wiggle your fingers?” Concern was visible on Binedra’s face she listened to the collective sounds of agony gathered around them.

He nodded and smiled weakly. “Mostly. I think so.”

“Good. You’ll still be sore. Report to Crew Support for a follow-up in twenty-four hours.”

Lt. Dowa turned away, already moving before the shaken man could reply.

A technician passed with a hypo tray clattering in his hands. A gold-shirted lieutenant entered, breathless. “We’ve got six more from Deck Four. Mostly blunt force. One head trauma. Lieutenant Jorvik is requesting a mobile triage.”

“Send Thalos with a crash kit and a backup neural monitor,” Binedra said to her colleague. “I want vitals logged remotely. Don’t let anybody slip past our intake rotation. Keep the stream moving.”

In the corner, an EMH was working on a Denobulan crewman with a compound leg fracture. Its terse bedside manner could be grating to many patients. Binedra had no choice but to let it run. Every hand helped now.

Petty Officer Laren was stabilizing a crew-woman’s dislocated hip nearby. The air was thick with the scent of analgesics and sterilizing agents. A faint blue haze from the many dermal regenerators hung like a glowing mist.

Binedra paused at biobed six to study a young, unconscious Bolian crewmember. Blue-green blood crusted beneath his ear.

“Neural trauma,” she said as she scanned. “Level two cortical swelling. Prep a cerebral pressure shunt and administer 2ccs of metorapan.”

Laren anxiously passed the hypospray. Binedra pressed it to the crewman’s neck. The hiss of the injection was nearly drowned out by the buzz of the sickbay doors sliding open once again.

Three more stretchers. One walking wounded was holding his wrist at a painful angle.

Binedra’s chest tightened.

This was becoming a tide.

She motioned to a nearby team of nurses. “Expand into Science Lab 3 if you have to. Use portable diagnostic tables. Make sure that no one gets left untreated.”

Binedra’s amber eyes swept the room. It felt more cramped with each passing second. A rhythm was slowly forming. There was a controlled chaos here. The staff was efficient. Exact.

She moved to the next patient. Then the next. There was only more work ahead.