Bonnie

Bonnie staggered from the triage zone on trembling legs. When she reached her office (nearer than her living quarters), she collapsed to the ground on her hands and knees.

She kicked the door closed behind her weakly and sobbed into the floor.

It had been designated to her to report on the death count and survivor status to Commander Slate. She needed a few moments to herself first. Facing Slate and his fury was too much to bear after almost twenty consecutive hours awake. At least all of her appointments for the next two days had been cancelled on her behalf. That was one ounce of stress lifted from her shoulders. She couldn’t rest yet, though.

Bonnie pulled herself up on her desk and scrubbed her face with a few tissues from the box atop it. The bags under her eyes prickled where her tears had irritated the skin even further. She stemmed the oozing from her eyes and nostrils and tossed the tissue balls into the bin beside her desk.

With a long sniff, she straightened her back. She had to make herself useful, and to do that she couldn’t fall apart. Not yet.

When she arrived at Slate’s office, he granted her entrance immediately.

“Commander,” she said. Her voice was hoarse from calling back and forth across the emergency care room. The tears shed in her office had likely done her no favours.

Slate jumped up from his seat. “Doctor,” he greeted her solemnly. “You are here to report on the status of the officers?”

Bonnie nodded. “As the least useful person in the room, I volunteered,” she explained. She had done her best to take orders and help the patients in her care, but she was not experienced in the same areas as many of the others in the room. The nurses could place an IV so fast the patient didn’t have time to look down. The surgeons were pulling flesh back together in front of her eyes. Even her student, Effie, was at home in the chaos and blood. “Dr Nathaniel would have liked to come himself, but he is operati-”

“Don’t say that.” The interruption was quiet, but his tone was hard.

“Don’t say what?” Bonnie asked wearily.

“You are a medical professional. A doctor.” He raised his head higher as he spoke. “One of the best in your field. That is why you are here.” It felt like a scolding in its severity, Slate’s furious passion encasing his words. “Do not call yourself useless. No one else in your position could have done better. You did your best; I have no doubt of that.”

“Thank you, Commander,” Bonnie mumbled. The unexpected support left her floundering for a response. “I appreciate your kind words.”

“It is not kindness, it is truth.” He stared her down, black eyes bearing into her. Commanding her to listen and obey.

“Yes, well,” Bonnie stammered, unsure how to continue. Usually, she would be inclined to ask him if he wished to talk about his feelings regarding the last day, if not simply to sway his hard gaze from her flushed face. But she hadn’t an ounce of energy to spare on anyone else. She decided to get straight to the point of her visit. She laid the hastily scribbled overview from the medical unit in front of him on the oversized metal desk. “This is the current list of those lost and their causes of death.” She pointed to the much smaller list on the other side of the document. “And this is the list of survivors.”

“I was informed the human officers were all dead on arrival,” Slate said conversationally, as though notifying her of the latest news from his weather forecaster. It was a front, Bonnie was certain. He had had time to harden himself to the news, to force himself not to show any emotion in the discussion of the deaths.

Bonnie gladly corrected him, “Two made it into the medical unit alive for us to work on. One made it through the night and is relatively stable.” She tapped her finger on the name. He leant forward, reading the scribble upside-down.

“Ellie,” Slate breathed.

“She’s in bad shape, she coded at one point-”

“What does that mean?” His words were squashed into one breath, barely understandable. Bonnie had never seen the steely commander so rattled.

“We had to resuscitate her,” Bonnie explained slowly. “She lost a lot of blood, and her body went into shock.” He nodded as though he understood, although his expression was troubled. Bonnie added, “We didn’t have a large reserve of blood here to begin with and after last night we have run out completely of certain blood types.” They would need to replenish quickly, and the medical team would need Slate’s support in encouraging the officers to help them with the task.

Slate frowned. “What is a blood type?” he asked quietly. For a moment, Bonnie wasn’t sure if he was simply voicing the question aloud to help himself translate it.

She gave him a few seconds before answering, “Humans all have a blood type, and only certain combinations of types can trade blood. We will need to request blood donations from any humans on-board willing.”

“This is very complicated,” he said.

Bonnie agreed. “The human body is a minefield. But, to go back to Ellie - I believe she’s in a strong position to recover.”

Slate nodded and began to move around his desk. “I must speak with her as soon as possible,” he announced.

“Tomorrow,” Bonnie said sternly. “She needs rest if you want her to heal.”

Slate nodded again, moreso to himself this time.

“Let’s go through the list,” Bonnie offered, despite the fatigue stinging at her muscles. “I can give you an overview of injuries and treatment required.”

Slate dropped back, sitting on the corner of the desk, and beckoned her closer. Bonnie approached and leant against it beside him. An almost-painful stretch ran through her leg muscles as her weight shifted onto a surface that wasn’t her burning feet.

The collection of names of those living was short; Bonnie was able to talk Slate through each of them in under twenty minutes total. Most would be on the ward for at least a week. Ellie much longer.

When she was finished, Slate said quietly, “There is a name missing from this list.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sixteen crew members were dispatched on this mission. There are only fifteen listed here.”

“I can assure you that only fifteen were brought in to us,” said Bonnie. “No one has been discharged, yet. Do you know who is missing?”

He thought for a few moments before answering. “Forest.” Bonnie tilted her head; she couldn’t place the name to a face. “Ailu’t,” Slate added for clarification. It didn’t help to bring the officer’s image to Bonnie’s exhausted brain. “I don’t know him well personally, but it is hard to forget him since he made it onto this ship by recommendation of a government official.”

Bonnie was surprised at this revelation. But said only, “I didn’t realise that was an option,” in a careful tone. She hoped she was being tactful. It certainly hadn’t been an option for the Human half of the Alliance, as far as Bonnie was aware. The recruitment was intended to be unbiased and independent - picking only the best the planet had to offer. The Ailu’t following a different standard would cause quite a stir within the Alliance.

“Officially, it’s not,” Slate replied. “But when you have a friend in a high enough place, things can be altered in your favour without a paper trail. Of course, I cannot prove this, and I hope you would not spread my words outside of this room.”

“Of course not. Confidentiality is at the core of my specialism, Commander.”

Slate sighed. “I will look into this. Thank you for your hard work, Doctor. You should rest also.”

Bonnie thanked him, said farewell, and then spent a few minutes lifting herself from the desk and hobbling out of the room. Slate had the grace not to comment on how awful she must have looked.

The moment she crossed the threshold of her living quarters, she dove face down onto her bed. She wanted to cry and process all that had happened in the last day. There was so much to take in and think about. But the exhaustion dragged her into the sheets and a compilation of foggy dreams.

Frantic knocking awoke her. She tumbled from her bed, noting from the clock on her side table that she had only been granted the paradise of sleep for a handful of hours.

She slapped a clumsy hand against her door release, and it slid open to reveal an Ailu’t officer dressed in standard-issue pajamas, although they were very thoroughly rumpled. His eyes were wide and his hands shaking where they remained lifted from banging on her door.

“Doctor,” he panted. “Please, help!”

“What’s wrong?” She couldn’t remember the man’s name. Her brain was too fried. Her head hurt. “What’s happened?”

He began to babble. “I just- I hadn’t seen Legacy all day. I went to his quarters- he-”

“Officer, please,” she snapped. She didn’t have time for anyone else’s breakdown in that moment, she hadn’t had a chance to have her own yet. “I need you to calm down and tell me what’s happened? Is Legacy okay?”

The man sucked in a pained breath as though he had been sucker punched.

“He’s dead,” he croaked.

Bonnie’s heart momentarily halted. “Excuse me?”

“I think he killed himself.”

Bonnie took off without looking back to check if the man was following her. She ran all the way to Legacy’s quarters. Her lungs burned as badly as her swollen eyes, but she refused to slow. The door was unlocked. Inside, Legacy’s body hung from an exposed pipe that ran across the ceiling.