Sam

Date July 26, 2116 Time 11:24 Human Circadian Standard Location FRS Nightingale, docked at Spacedock 59

Where in the hell was Doctor Corey Hammond?

Sam sat at her desk, and stared at the manifests spread across multiple screens on her desk.

The captain had connections all across Coalition space. People she had trained with. People she had trained. Mentors and rivals and patients and friends. And she was on friendly terms with a number of Coalition Guard crash inspectors as well.

In that vast network, there were a handful of people she trusted to not inform the Coordinator of her queries, or even ask questions as to why she did not want her questions to reach Shuttle.

She reached out to all of them.

Not one of them had a clue where she could find Doctor Hammond.

Not even McKenzie knew.

Sam had asked, at the end of that horrible conversation a few days prior. After she’d explained why Lukas wouldn’t be making it to their daughter’s birthday party. At best.

She already hated those conversations when it was the family of somebody the Nightingale hadn’t reached in time, but this had been almost unbearable.

But, it was done.

And now McKenzie knew everything she did.

In return, McKenzie had supplied Sam with as much information as she knew about the couple’s old college buddy. Even if it wasn’t exactly encouraging.

Doctor Corey hammond should have been assigned to a research station named the Chapel. It was a bio sample lab focused on bleeding edge treatments for traumatic injuries.

The kind of things that ethically couldn’t be fine-tuned in the field, and instead had to be tested on lab-grown torsos and limbs.

Thinking back, Sam even remembered Lukas mentioning it a few times. He’d always seemed so proud of how well Hammond had done after...everything.

Mining miracles from brainless simulacra.

Perfecting procedures before they ever reached a real, sentient patient.

They even had a few of those torsos in stasis tubes on the Nightingale. A fantastic way to store organs in bulk for immediate transplant. The research done on stations like the Chapel saved countless lives.

Problem was...well, there was no Responders station called the Chapel.

She’d checked the entire database. The ship and station names skipped from Blackwell to Cilento. No Chapel.

But McKenzie insisted it was the right name. She even forwarded Sam correspondence from Doctor Hammond had sent to her and Lukas with that station name embedded into the metadata.

Which raised a lot of alarming questions.

Questions Sam couldn’t ask without tipping Shuttle off to the digging she’d been doing.

Saving her friend, or even attempting to, shouldn’t have turned into a game of office politics.

She shouldn’t have to hide what she was doing.

But, reality was reality.

Even if it included an apparent ghost space station.

There had to be something missing. Some manifest, or sub-classification of Responders stations that she didn’t remember.

Or maybe some kind of joint venture with another aid organization?

That was the most likely scenario. Especially given the religious aspect of the base’s name, which was way out of step with the Responders’ typical convention of paying homage to historical medical heroes.

But if it wasn’t a Responders station, then which organization did she need to contact? Could she convince them to talk to her without Shuttle finding out––

A knock on her office door broke her out of her thoughts.

“Captain Healy,” her clerk Sidney’s voice called from the hall. “Doctor Meanwell has arrived.”

Right.

Speaking of politics.

Sam powered down her displays, and picked up a tablet that held the details of her new crew member’s records.

Once she got this over with, she could refocus. One good distraction, even an awkward one, to clear her mind.

Sam forced a smile onto her face. “Thanks Sid. She can come in.”

The door to her office hissed open, and the newest member of the Nightingale crew stepped in.

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Definitely trying to make a good first-impression, that was certain. Her neon greens looked freshly pressed, and the blue trim in her doctor’s coat were almost excessively vibrant.

Like they’d come right out of a box ten minutes ago.

Spacedock 59 was the resupply point for Responders ships in the region, so it was possible they actually had.

Her deep red hair was neatly pinned back in a French twist, and her pale blue eyes looked just about as nervous as Sam would expect for someone meeting their new boss for the first time.

Especially under such unusual circumstances.

“I’m Captain Samantha Healy,” she rose, and extended a hand. “You can call me Sam. It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Meanwell.”

“You as well,” Meanwell took her hand and shook it lightly. “I am so excited and grateful for this opportunity. You can call me Oda if you’d like.”

“Sounds good,” Sam gestured towards the open seat in front of her desk. “We have quite a bit to go over, if you could please take a seat?”

They sat, and the captain looked at the tablet. “Your experience is exceptional. Good, practical university for undergrad and med school. A stellar residency, and that’s even before we get into these glowing recommendations. I can see why Coordinator Shuttle picked you.”

Without Sam’s input.

She understood that regulation said Responders’ vessels needed a minimum of three trauma surgeons in the active crew at any given moment. She understood that Anya didn’t want to put her through looking for that third surgeon while she was still reeling from the Dolos.

She also understood that complaining about the clear breach of protocol that was not allowing a Captain to sign off on who they have aboard their ship, especially in a position as vital as a surgeon...well...it could lead to a closer look at her own contacts for the past week.

And disobeying a Coordinator’s order was a far worse breach of protocol than this...staffing situation.

So, here she was. Stuck with someone whose resume she hadn’t even seen until that morning.

But none of that was Doctor Meanwell’s fault.

And she refused to take it out on her.

At least it was a good resume.

The doctor gave her an awkward smile. “I try to be as useful as I can.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Sam nodded. “We see some unusual injuries out here, doctor. Things I doubt you saw often during your residency in Milwaukee. Skip burn. Shield scorch. Even a void exposure from time to time. As Fourth surgeon, you’ll be leading some of the less extreme surgeries in any multi-casualty incidents, and assisting on the more severe cases whenever possible.”

Meanwell blinked. “Fourth?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you are a fellow. Doctors Tehs and Brown are both attendings. They have seniority.”

She might have been a stellar resident, but she was a green fellow. She had to expect to earn her stripes?

“Yes, I understand that, I just...” The doctor paused. “I was told you currently only had two trauma surgeons aboard. I was supposed to be Third?”

...Ah.

Wow.

Coordinator Shuttle really didn’t have much faith in the Guard’s investigation after all, did she?

“The Head surgeon position is...still taken,” Sam hedged. “I’m unsure of what you’ve been told before you accepted this post?”

Meanwell shifted uncomfortably. “I heard the Head surgeon had been...well...I thought he wasn’t around anymore?”

Enough euphemisms.

“He was kidnapped,” Sam clarified. “It’s still an active investigation, so I can’t say much else...But I believe we’ll get him back. And his position will be here for him when that happens.”

If he still wanted it.

After this, Sam wouldn’t blame Lukas if he decided to settle down permanently on Earth, or maybe Mars. Somewhere with an atmosphere, and far fewer disasters.

But until she knew for certain, she wasn’t giving up his spot on the Nightingale.

Not completely.

Not more than necessity required.

“In the meantime,” Sam continued, “Doctor Tehs is acting as lead surgeon, and I have temporarily assigned Doctor Brown the extra responsibilities of Medical Director, with aid from my clerk Sidney, who you met earlier. As such, you will be supplying Doctors Tehs and Brown with additional help in their normal duties. They’ll be happy to redistribute some of the workload. Plenty of opportunities to show what you can do.”

“I can imagine,” Meanwell quipped, then began to blush red much brighter than her hair. “I’m sorry Captain, I...didn’t mean to make light of––”

“It’s alright,” Sam knew all about nervous blurts. “It’s an...awkward situation we’re in. I want you to feel at home here, and rest assured there will still be plenty of room for you in this crew even after Lukas come back. Four surgeons are always better than three out here.”

Meanwell’s shoulders relaxed. “Thank you Captain. Is there anything else I can do?”

Sam shook her head, and let out a small, tired laugh. “Not unless you’ve ever heard of a Doctor Corey Hammond?”

A strange look passed over Doctor Meanwell’s face. “I...I’m sorry, who?”

...Yep. Definitely familiar with unfortunate blurts.

Sam quickly waived her off. “Doesn’t matter, you wouldn’t know him. I was joking. Let’s wrap up the logistics, then you can go get settled in. I suggest you head to the mess hall at around seven. Lots of people in there that time of day, so it’s a good opportunity for some informal introductions. Plus Ren’s making goulash. And their goulash is fantastic.”