Deftly navigating the corridors of the teaching hospital they called home, Elyas Sark pushed himself into a sprint to keep up with the determined but collected stride of Savvi Qelreth. The way their arms swayed casually, Qelreth looked to be out for a stroll across the Firmament. All the while, Sark’s arms and legs were jerkily pumping just to keep pace.

Maybe he would have to skip a couple of study groups to get back into his variable-gravity jogging routine.

With their distinctly northern Andorian bearing, Qelreth entered most classrooms confidently, almost haughty. This time, Sark was chilled by the hunted look in Qelreth’s eyes.

Even so, they hid it well. Through a brief sneer, Qelreth taunted him. “Why aren’t you at the back of the squad with Nnekin? Isn’t this the part where you make fun of us outwardly over-achievers?”

There was accusation in the way they said ‘outwardly’.

Quoting Weld, Sark deflected by saying, “This isn’t about me. This is Vepera’s story.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Qelreth dismissed him, clearly recognising what Sark was doing.

It scared him how easily Qelreth could see right through him. He preferred being the quickest wit in a room, but that had become rare in a Starfleet Medical annex. Still, he tried all the harder to steady his breath in front of her.

Approaching a four-way intersection, Sark kept in-step alongside Qelreth as they took the right. He said, “Weld can project my medical failings across an entire saucer of the station. They’re all mine anyway.”

Scoffing, Qelreth asked, “Is that bravado I hear?”

“He can’t say anything worse than I’m thinking about myself,” Sark said. He sighed heavily and took a deep breath to find the strength to keep going. “I’m not trying to bond with you. What’s most embarrassing is trusting Tress to have my back.”

She could have at least warned him, given him a chance.

“That,” Qelreth darkly intoned, “was your messiest mistake.”

A Caitian nurse was saying, “–arterial gas levels are beginning to stabilise,” as Sark padded into Vepera’s hospital room at a respectful pace. He stepped to the side of Qelreth, and the rest of the squadron, so he could lean against the back wall and catch his breath.

He let them go ahead, but Qelreth kept her distance from the patient.

Sark couldn’t find a steady beat to time his breathing against. The thready beeping from Vepera’s vital sign monitors clashed against the warble of Weld’s medical tricorder, let alone the telltales from the biobed’s inbuilt surgical support instruments.

Doctor Weld looked to navigate the sensor overload more easily. He snapped his attention between his tricorder, the unconscious patient and the biofunction monitor behind the bed.

“The Lectrazine neutraliser is taking effect, but those cellular toxicity markers are higher than I’d like,” Weld said. “Nurse, initiate a micro-filtration sweep through the primary vascular access.”

Parze and Tress carefully approached the patient, visibly making themselves available to help if Weld was in a generous mood.

Qelreth hung back. In fact, they turned to lean against the wall beside Sark.

“Don’t sulk,” they said to him. “At least your patient is improving.”

“I know,” he replied.

“So you have nothing to worry about,” Qelreth said. Was that jealousy he heard in a moment of hoarseness?

“I didn’t say I was worried,” Sark said simply. He looked to them. He didn’t blink. “Are you worried?”

“I’m not worried.”

Qelreth didn’t take their gaze off the patient. The nurse was talking about, “–the molecular weight cutoff appropriate for–” but Sark missed the context. Rather, he was testing his understanding of Qelreth’s facial ticks.

“Liar,” he guessed. “Did you hide a joke in your notes?”

“The notes are–” Qelreth started to say and then they shook their head. “Have you known me to have a sense of hu–”

Qelreth’s jaw tightened when she trailed off, and they squirmed against the wall.

Sark looked. Now Doctor Weld was staring at them too.

Weld asked, “What contraindications for Lectrazine did you miss, Ensign Qelreth?” He didn’t ask the question as a medical officer searching for solutions. His tenor was controlled, almost withholding. Weld was their instructor again in this moment.

“Vepera isn’t taking any other medication,” Qelreth said with certainty.

Tapping a sensor probe against the top of his tricorder, Weld insisted, “Think, ensign. This is not a common side-effect. What else did you miss?”

Narrowing their eyes on Weld, Qelreth asked, “Was she taking vitamin supplements she hasn’t reported?”

Weld tilted his head to the right. “It’s not that.”

Sark offered, “Could it be serotonin syndrome?”

Glancing right at Sark, Weld’s eyebrows climbed. “You studied medicine at the academy, but you remember less than your peers who didn’t, huh?”

Waving a hand in the direction of the sensor cluster, Tress asked, “Is she having an allergic reaction?”

But Weld didn’t even acknowledge her. The beeping of Vepera’s vital signs dropped below frantic, gradually heading towards normal. Weld took a step closer to Qelreth.

“Savvi, you’ve failed one test,” he said to them. “Please don’t fail the second.”

Sark’s hands balled into fists. Qelreth never failed anything. What were these tests she had failed? Wouldn’t they be better medical students if Weld was teaching them more, rather than playing mind-games? Qelreth worked too hard to have her mistakes projected across the walls.

Weld simplified the question: “What was missing from Vepera’s chart? I read it line by line, searching for malignant humour. Did you?”

Sark cringed. Had playing the clown cost Qelreth something? Was he responsible for her mistake? He pressed his back into the wall more firmly, only wishing to melt away.

“What?” Qelreth asked back. “I didn’t ask about her sexual history for a headache?”

Bringing his hands together, Weld popped the probe inside its tricorder housing. “Shields down; direct hit. You got it. There were no notes. No tests. Until now.”

“Your patient is pregnant.” Weld turned his back on Qelreth, moving to study the readouts on the surgical support frame. “Only a few weeks, but pregnancy is known to slow the metabolization of lectrazine.”

Qelreth gasped softly, her eyes locked on Vepera. “Causing a higher neurological exposure.”

Weld dropped his tricorder on the equipment tray. “I’m not training you to be perfect. Your parents already did that. What you need to do is admit when you overlook something, or make a mistake.”

“I made an assumption based on the notes available,” Qelreth replied defensively.

Weld ‘tsk’ed out an annoyed breath. “You can’t wait until after I’m filtering your patient’s blood. Doing the right thing starts at the same time your duty shift begins.”

When Qelreth’s chin dropped to her chest, Sark couldn’t think of what to do to comfort her. He looked to Tress and she looked just as baffled. Qelreth wasn’t exactly a hugger.

“Now, Ensign Qelreth,” Weld ordered, “It’s time for you to monitor Vepera’s blood pressure. Have you ever managed a patient’s filtration rate before?”

Even if the expression didn’t reach their eyes, Qelreth smiled.

“No, doctor, I haven’t.”

“You won’t be able to say that anymore by the end of this shift.”