The Medical Wing
Morning arrived slowly on the island. Pale grey light slipped through the narrow windows of the processing hall, washing the concrete walls in a dull color. Most of the civilians were still asleep, curled awkwardly across benches or leaning against the walls with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. War had a way of exhausting people faster than sleep could repair. I hadn't slept.
Across from me Luca stirred, wincing slightly as he adjusted the bandage around his forehead. "Good morning," he muttered.
"You were snoring," I said.
"I was praying."
"That sounded like snoring."
"Prayer can be loud."
Before I could respond, a volunteer stepped into the hall carrying a clipboard. "Anyone with medical experience, please come with me," she announced. No one moved at first. Then I stood. The volunteer looked relieved when she saw me approach. "You helped during the evacuation yesterday, right?"
"Yes."
"We're short on hands in the medical wing."
She gestured toward the corridor leading deeper into the base. I followed her past two armed soldiers standing at a checkpoint. The medical wing occupied a series of rooms that had once been administrative offices. Now they were filled with stretchers, supply carts, and exhausted doctors moving quickly between patients.
Dr. Sofia Kessler stood beside one of the beds reviewing a chart. She looked up as I entered. "Ah," she said. "The girl with the steady hands."
"I try."
"You stitched a wound yesterday with a sewing needle."
"It worked."
Dr. Kessler studied me briefly before handing me a pair of gloves. "Good enough for me. Welcome to the medical team."
The next hour passed quickly. Patients arrived steadily—soldiers with shrapnel wounds, civilians suffering from dehydration, a child with a broken wrist who refused to stop asking questions about helicopters. War created strange hospitals.
At one point I noticed a familiar face near the wall. Xiana Novak sat beside an injured man while a nurse wrapped a bandage around his arm. Even in the bright morning light her eyes moved constantly, studying the room the way someone studied unfamiliar terrain. She noticed me watching. Our eyes met briefly before she looked away.
Dr. Kessler handed me a tray of instruments. "Bed four," she said. I moved to the next patient, carefully cleaning a shallow wound along his shoulder. The repetitive rhythm of the work felt oddly calming. For a few minutes the war outside the walls almost disappeared.
Almost.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. I looked up.
Adrian Volkov stood just inside the room. He wasn't wearing his coat today, only a dark military shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly at the wrists. Without the coat his height seemed even more noticeable, and the faint scar above his eyebrow caught the morning light. He was watching. Not the room. Me.
Dr. Kessler noticed him and straightened slightly. "Commander."
"Doctor."
His voice was calm and controlled. "How are the patients?"
"Alive," she replied. "Which counts as success these days."
Adrian nodded once. Then his attention shifted again—toward me.
"Jane," he said.
The name still felt strange when spoken aloud. "Yes?"
He stepped a little closer, though not enough to interrupt my work. "You seem comfortable here."
"I've seen worse rooms."
"Where?"
I tied the bandage carefully before answering. "Cities that are no longer standing."
Adrian studied my face for a moment. "You don't speak like someone from the village listed on your registration."
I met his gaze calmly. "People move."
"Yes," he said quietly. "They do."
For a moment neither of us spoke. Behind him the hallway buzzed faintly with activity—boots against concrete, distant radios crackling with reports from the mainland.
Adrian glanced at the instruments in my hands. "You're not trained as a nurse."
"No."
"Yet the doctor trusts you."
Dr. Kessler answered before I could. "She has steady hands. That's more useful than most diplomas."
Adrian considered that, then nodded once. "Very well." He turned to leave, but just before stepping out of the room he paused.
"Doctor," he said.
"Yes?"
"Keep her here."
Dr. Kessler frowned slightly. "Why?"
Adrian's eyes flicked briefly toward me again. "Because people who remain calm in chaos tend to be useful."
Then he walked away.
Dr. Kessler watched him disappear down the corridor before looking back at me. "Well," she said dryly, "that sounded almost like a compliment."
I removed my gloves slowly. "I'm not sure it was."
Across the room Xiana was watching again.
And this time she didn't look away.