The medical world had long since left the idea of antiseptic chemical cleaning in the rearview mirror, with the marvels of modern technology a surface could be scrubbed at a molecular level almost instantaneously. Buzzing beams of minuscule electrical pulses could race across an object in the blink of an eye, eradicating any offending matter and banishing it into the ether. With the advent of microscopic teleportation and molecular deconstruction, the days of caustic chemicals, plentifully administered across walls and floors, had faded into a distant memory.

Why then did Captain Mellasitox swear she could smell the sickbay several metres down the corridor, long before the doors slid open to the small medical bay?

“Nurse! Cortical stimulator.” Malax called from the central biobed as he leant over the form of a prone Klingon. The figure’s tall black boots peeked out from beneath the slender Denobulan’s arms as he reached across the body.

A short Tellarite nurse dashed across the bay with surprising speed, crossing the captain’s path at the doorway, her long white coat trailing behind her nimble feet in ephemeral waves. Without missing a step she grabbed a pair of small silver disks from a nearby station before swinging her stout form about and, with two urgent strides, falling in opposite the intense doctor.

Silently Malax took the devices from the woman’s small palm and placed them at the Klingon patient’s temples, where they began to whine and chirp, preparing to do their vital work.

“Bullwura!” Sehgali called from an empty biobed in the corner where a mustard-shouldered ensign helped her remove the last of her white environmental suit. Her form was sodden, thick beads of sweat running down her long neck and darkening the already sodden hem of her undershirt. “Captain, over here!”

Mellasitox crossed the sick bay quickly, pausing for a pair of support staff as they helped a stumbling Klingon into a nearby side room, before dashing for the corner. The small room already felt cramped despite the team’s expertly rehearsed dance and the captain had no wish to get in the way.

“Report commander,” Mellasitox instructed as she finally managed to make it into the sanctuary of empty floor space between the bed and the bulkhead.

“Seven crew members returned. These three here…” she motioned around the room to the casualties. Malax still worked on the officer at the biobed, whilst the stumbling Klingon was disappearing through the dark brown doors into the sickbays adjacent ward. A female officer sat on the end of a bio-bed being examined by a worried-looking science officer, nervously fulfilling her secondary duties as an emergency medic.

“The other four?”

“Being examined by the airlock, mostly minor injuries by the looks of things,” Sehgali answered, unclasping a boot and sliding her foot from its comparatively gargantuan form.

“Standard compliment is in the hundreds,” Mellasitox whispered.

“We found them in the ship’s pantry, looks like they’d sealed the kitchen bulkhead when the atmospheric breach happened.” Sehgali offered a weak smile as she removed the second boot, her form now several inches shorter without the thick-soled platform. “It looks like their preference for fresh food might have saved them.”

“Mordic?” A vision of the young captain passed across her thoughts, so full of passion and drive.

Sehgali shook her head grimly.

“He was most likely on the bridge, attempting to investigate that section of the wreckage would be significantly more difficult.” Encore interrupted as they appeared at the captain’s elbow, the sound of their approach masked by their slender feline form.

“Is it possible there are more survivors?” Mellasitox asked from the corner of her mouth, her eyes drawn back to the central bio-bed where the doctor and his team continued to work on the unmoving Klingon officer. She always marvelled at the medical staff’s calm in the face of insurmountable odds. Neither Malax nor the nurse betrayed any panic or anger as they traded instructions in hushed tones across the biobed. Had it been Mellasitox she would have likely been beating the man’s chest in frustration by this point, like something out of a badly written novella.

“It is always a possibility Captain.” Encore passed the captain a large padd, a suite of power readings lazily rolling across them. “Sima has successfully re-energized the fusion generators, and the majority of main systems are back online.”

Mellasitox scrolled through the data, even as one eye continued to hover over the hurried backs of the tireless duo across the room at the main biobed.

“The Warp Core?”

“Will take a few more hours. Sima is confident however, you could have full impulse if you wished.” Encore’s tall pink ears twitched minutely, a minor tell but sufficient to stir the captain’s interest.

“You have a different opinion?” Melasitoxx mused. Across the room the doctor’s energy slowed, a dark visage falling over the nurse’s face.

“By diverting power to the engines we will be sacrificing defensive capability, shields will barely be operational and weapons will be limited.” Encore’s ears continued to twitch in displeasure. “We will be at a tactical disadvantage should our quarry take the opportunity to engage us.”

“Aramook and Bib are long gone by now.” Sehgali sighed as she handed the last of the environmental suit pieces to the broad-shouldered ensign who then quietly backed out of the room.

“We cannot know that for certain, a weakened Daedalus would be a tempting target.” The tall Caitian turned towards the sweat-sodden first officer, their eyes narrowing.

“As opposed to one that had been dead in the water for the last twenty-four hours?” Sehgali took a step forward, raising herself to her full stature confidently. Despite her voluminous hair, she still stood several inches shorter than the hairless feline.

“It is my job to predict-”

“-The fugitives are gone Encore!”

Mellasitox raised her hand, silencing the feuding parties as Doctor Malax drew a thin white sheet across the still form of the Klingon officer. A sharp breath caught in her throat as the doctor’s hand lingered momentarily over the man’s forehead and a silent rite tumbled from the Denobulan’s lips.

“What are the chances of more survivors?” Mellasitox muttered, her attention fixed on the man’s lifeless body, now so small beneath the thin white shroud.

“All the compartments we passed through were exposed to space,” Sehgali replied quietly. “It was only by chance we found them and an even smaller chance they survived.”

“And the supplies?”

“Lieutenant Harrison and the team are moving them to stores now.” Encore slipped the padd from the captain’s hands as her grip loosened, her attention consumed by the far bed.

“Then is there any reason to stay?” Mellasitox struggled to draw in another breath, her chest turning to stone in embarrassment. She had been so focused on the survival of her own crew that she hadn’t even considered the scale of loss aboard the Ho’Nng.

“The hunt?” Encore offered once again.

The trio stood in silence as Malax and the nurse departed the biobed to attend to other patients, leaving the white ghost lying motionless and still.

Mellasitox took a painful swallow, her growing sense of foolish failure sticking in her throat.

“The hunt is over Encore. They escaped.” The young captain announced with finality.

“Indira set course for the comm relay. Encore, arrange a navigation buoy to leave behind, we’ll come back later once we’ve made contact with Starfleet.” The captain unclipped the ornate clasp on her hair, allowing it to fall in long dark waves down her back. “Depart when ready.”

The pair offered silent nods in confirmation as Mellaistox took several slow steps across the sick bay towards the fallen warrior.

“And you?” Sehgali whispered as the tactical officer stepped out of earshot beyond the sliding doors.

Mellasitox offered a long arm out blindly towards the female Klingon officer who stepped down from the bio bed and took the proffered hand.

“We have duties to perform.”

Hand in hand the two women stepped up to the bio bed and drew back the white sheet to reveal the motionless face of a young Klingon officer, barely beyond his teenage years.

In unison, their heads fell back and they began to roar.