‘Subject is a bestial juggernaut type. He has suffered lacerations across the quadriceps. Cause of injury: an undodged swipe of claws. Needs immediate disinfecting and stitching. Otherwise, no major injuries present,’ a short, blonde woman, no taller than Joan herself, announced. ‘I require disinfectant, several threads and a needle of length five cm.’

‘Yes, Madam A,’ Joan and two other aides (two identical brunettes called Rosie and Jasmine) responded, each medic providing the needed equipment.

Though they’ve known the chief medic for a few weeks now, no one knew Madam A’s real name. At least Joan didn’t. Nor did she ask when the chief carried a serious glare at all times that warded off anyone that tried to get too close.

Aside from the chief and aides, several other squadron O medics paced up and down the cabin of the ship they worked on. Several other injured mages lay down on makeshift hammocks and the clanking of medicine bottles filled the room.

If Joan focused, she could hear the drops of rain above them and a faint sound of bombardments further away. However, she didn’t have time to worry about the squadrons’ training when she had her own duties to tend to.

‘Commencing operation,’ Madam A carried on with thread and nail in hand. She slathered the disinfectant on the man’s leg. His face writhed in agony but Madam A didn’t flinch. However, just as the tip of the needle reached the flesh, the patient grabbed her hand.

‘Do you mind? It kinda hurts,’ the juggernaut complained.

‘It’s always the overly macho that are the most squeamish,’ Madam A put tongue in cheek before turning to the two aides. ‘Get me some an-’

All of a sudden, a tinoo swooped into the room. It cut all noise with its wings as it landed on its respective messenger (a giant of a man called Johnson) with elegance and grace.

‘Looks like C-Charisma and B-Horatio are back from their training, Madam A’ the messenger explained after conversing with the bird. ‘Thirty injured, two unconscious and no casualties is the reported amount.’

‘We’re strained for manpower here as it is,’ Madam A sighed, turning to Rosie and Jasmine. ‘Ok, you two can go start moving the injured on board instead. Those not severely injured can wait their turn. In the meantime, you go get me the anaesthetics type three point five.’

‘Yes, madam A,’ the aides followed instructions.

However, Joan froze for a moment. Her instructions meant getting the medicine. Getting the medicine meant knowing the right location of the medicine. And knowing the right location meant knowing which bottle had the right label. All of which meant she faced one of her fears: relying on her own reading skills.

‘You do know where it is, right?’ Madam A sent a threatening glare.

‘Yes, madam A,’ Joan gave a meek nod.

She headed towards several wardrobes, filled to the brim with medicine. A part of her wanted to ask the nearest person to help her out. But the increased busyness of everyone around her dissuaded her from disturbing people for such a simple task. Instead, she found the right cabinet through instinct alone. Now came the tricky part.

Joan took a deep breath. She tried to visualise the lessons she had with Gin. How was enesthetic spelt again? From her pronunciation alone, her eyes wandered off to the “E” section. Yet, Gin’s voice warned her that the spelling actually belonged with an “A.” Starting letter aside, she remembered him teaching her to go with the basic phonetics whenever she got stuck.

With that in mind, she looked out for the “TH” of thet, either a “C” or “K” or even “CK” for the ic and a potential “S” or weird sounding “C” for that middle hissing sound. At last, she found what looked like the right bottle: “Anaesthetic 3.5.” At the very least, numbers became natural to her, though she looked in both the “E” and “A” sections to be sure.

Confident in her answer, she hurried back to the chief medic and handed over the bottle.

‘Thanks,’ Madam A took it without a second thought.

‘Um, did I bring the right one?’ Joan spoke up.

The chief raised a brow, looked at the bottle, then nodded. Thank goodness, a wave of relief flowed through Joan’s body as she began to watch the operation. First, the juggernaut got sedated. Then, the true masterpiece started.

Within seconds, the chief finessed the perfect stitching of a calibre Joan had never seen before. It was so good, that she wondered what rank her superior belonged to. S? SS? SSS?! It wasn’t even as if Madam A showed any physical abilities like Joan’s own nails. Rather, the woman appeared quite normal aside from her attitude. Ugh, I’m starting to think like Gin, Joan realised. She just could not believe her eyes at the clean nature of the work. That’s all. Speaking of Gin, wasn’t he on board the ships about to come in? Knowing him, he’s one of those unconscious.

‘Operation complete. Could you help tidy up then I will assign you something else,’ Madam A finished up.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

‘Yes,’ Joan responded, pausing a moment to bolster her courage, before asking, ‘If possible, can I help out with the injured coming in? I think one of my patients is going to be one of them and I should check up on him.’

‘You got an idiot of your own too, huh? Cute. Normally a heel to the face fixes that issue,’ Madam spoke in a nonchalant fashion as she wiped blood stains off her glove. ‘Ok. You can go then. Thanks for the help.’

‘Ah, yes. He is a little. I’m just doing my job. Thank you, Madam A,’ Joan rushed her words.

She bowed, then walked away at a brisk pace towards the upper deck of the ship. Patters of rain still fell (albeit less than several hours ago) on top. Though it didn’t cause any trouble as her ship remained anchored while two ships floated on either side without issue. If she wanted to think like Gin some more, she would have noted that Charisma sailed with a massive hole in its side with Horatio dented at the front. Not that Joan cared, of course.

Instead, she looked on as her own xernim ship soon began to grow on either side, creating tendrils that grabbed onto both Horatio and Charisma. Upon impact, the vines burst into a huge growth that circled and bore into them until all three vessels became a single entity.

Several mages poured out from the above deck. None of them were injured. As more came out from below, the more Joan got worried due to the simple fact that she saw no Gin.

‘Joan!’ someone called out to her.

She turned around but her enthusiasm soon met with despair as she found Brim. ‘Oh, hey. Have you seen Gin anywhere?’

‘Ah, about that,’ Brim stopped in his tracks, almost turning right back round.

‘What happened?’ Joan snapped at his heels before he could run away.

‘I may, or may not have,’ Brim didn’t dare look at her straight in the face, ‘have knocked him out.’

‘I called it,’ she slapped her face at the truth. ‘Ugh. I knew this would happen!’

Brim swivelled into a normal position, ‘So you’re not mad at me then?’

‘Why would I be? Crush him. Destroy his ego. Beat him to a pulp, for all I care. He’s going in head first in everything he does and little old Joan over here has to tend to his stupidities. He’s not right in the mind, I tell you. Someone needs to put him in his place at times and I’m glad you’re here to help me do it.'

Brim looked at the contorted face she made. He walked ahead of her, taking the initiative to go down the stairs to where the injured got taken. However, Joan caught on to Brim’s actions and matched his pace.

‘What?’ she scowled.

‘Aha. Was just thinking about what you said,’ Brim chuckled down the steps. ‘It probably doesn’t help that I was taunting him so that I could buy time and only attacked him when he ignored me to save Sam.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Nothing,’ Brim zipped his lips.

‘I’m not deaf, Brim.’

‘I know. Which is why I want you to listen for a bit.’

The two stopped at the very base of the steps. The confined room Joan worked in prior now opened up, with two tunnels on both sides of the room. The wooden Xernim grew extra beds inside the gaps and the increased space allowed more to rest as they waited for their turn to get treated. At the very end of the main room, however, they could see beds containing the unconscious.

‘A few burn marks but he looks fine,’ Joan commented from afar, assured his patient didn’t need immediate attention. ‘He is dreaming though. Another one of those uncomfortable dreams.’

When she turned back, she saw Brim’s mouth agape and face crumpled in confusion. ‘You know this how exactly?’

‘The burn marks are easy to –’

‘I’m talking about you knowing he’s dreaming,’ Brim interrupted.

‘Oh, that’s also easy. He’s in a foetal position. Whenever he’s normal, he lies on his back when sleeping,’ Joan explained followed by a long pause. So long that she added, ‘It’s because I’m his personal medic that I know this.’

‘That’s a little too personal for you to pull that excuse, Joan.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Joan rolled her eyes. ‘Did you want to talk just to mock me?’

‘It’s weird but it adds up,’ Brim started, leaning against the wall. ‘Gin is not feeling well.’

‘Is he ill or?’

‘No physical illness. Not any I can tell at least. No, it’s more like he’s troubled by something.’

‘I haven’t seen him in a while,’ Joan lowered her head in shame. In all honesty, she figured out something was up for a long time but never truly brought it up with anyone apart from Gin himself. She thought about whether she ought to feign ignorance or back up Brim’s claim. In the end, she decided, ‘What makes you think that?’

‘Ah. I would have thought you’d have seen him recently but looks like we’re both in the dark here,’ Brim shook his head. He too went into deep thought. ‘Just the other day, Gin was panicking after misreading the clock. Honest mistake, possibly, but then it’s the more subtle things too. When I did taunt him while my powers were useless, he just didn’t do anything. After sparring with him so much, I understand his mindset quite a bit now. Normally he either charges with the taunt or bait in mind and acts mid-fight. Or even if he did back off, he schemes a way to make use of that distance. Like sand in the face sort of thing. Except he just…hesitated. He talked a lot, sure. But he didn’t act in a way he normally would.’

Joan didn’t know what to say. What Brim said all made sense. Yet, she couldn’t muster up a response let alone an answer. ‘Are you going to confront him about it?’

‘No. I can’t. I don’t think I’m the right person for that,’ Brim admitted. ‘Which is why I kind of wanted you to talk to him.’

‘Why me?’ Joan asked, knowing full well why her.

‘I think he’ll understand more if he talks to you. He’s trying to figure something out which I have no idea what. Nor am I the type of person to know the right words to help someone through this rut. The only people I know who can are, well, you and, er,’ Brim let out a faint smile, ‘Gin himself. And of course, we can’t just rely on him to work it out himself. That’s a recipe for self-destruction.’

‘What about Wo? You know, his friend from when he was a child,’ Joan suggested. Her chest tightened as her words screamed cowardice to herself.

‘If he could help, I would love him to do so,’ Brim shook his head straight away. ‘But I haven’t seen him since we entered squadron O. Do you know where he is?’

‘No, funnily enough. Not since entering squadron O as well. Where is he when we need him most?’

The two let out a forced chuckle, followed by a long pause with the background noise as the only sound.

‘I’ll go check up on him. Those burn marks won’t heal themselves. Well, they will but, er,’ Joan tried to change the topic, her body already leaning towards the medical beds.

‘Right. Sure,’ Brim sprang up from the wall.

Just as the pair almost parted ways, Joan spoke, ‘I’ll try.’

‘Thanks,’ Brim returned with muffled gratitude as he went up the stairs.

As Joan looked over Gin’s sleeping body, she tried to think of several plans. None sounded that good in her head though. Some felt too forced while others were too shallow. So, for the time being, she resorted to what she was best at: being his medic.