Three hours had passed since Duncan and Toveka had been brought into the Infirmary of Outpost 42 by the medical team off of the Khazad’hea. Three hours of constant medical treatment and operations to stabilize and begin the task of repairing the damage done by whatever had happened to Lt Rhodes and Lt j.g. Brine, taken to a different area of the facility. Duncan was the only patient in the room here, and the nurses and doctors had mumbled more than once that it was a miracle that he was alive at all considering the injuries and clear lack of medical treatment available on the small Klingon warship other than the most rudimentary.

The console beside Duncan monitored his vital functions and showed a readout and display of his injuries to those that could decipher the medical system. The bandages he had been covered in when he arrived were gone and Duncan now lay in the standard Starfleet issue medical garment all patients had to wear when they were at the mercy of Doctors. Much of the work that had been done after his internal injuries were stabilized was that of regenerating his skin to avoid infection but it was clear that there was much still to be done.

Duncans breathing was shallow, the impaled pieces of metal in his chest having punctured his lungs, the injuries of being thrown across the cabin and the moments the interior of the runabout were exposed to vacuum having done the expected damage. His blood loss was substantial although the synthesized Federation replacement would support his weakened body through recovery. The large area of burns from the exploding consoles and following fire had done damage, but modern Federation technology would heal that without a mark, eventually, but the process would not be slow as layers had to be repaired over time. Despite the many wounds and burns Duncan had survived, and he had survived in his entirety without missing parts. He had been conscious when he had been taken from the Khazad’hea, but an army of hypo wielding medical staff had ensured that he wasn’t going to be awake for what they were about to do to him. Before he had fallen into sleep, Duncans eyes had turned to the crowd. His vision blurred and stinging from the bright light on the station, he had been looking for only one person in his half conscious state. His hand had begun to reach out to a random figure in the crowd before a nurse had clasped it and pushed it back under the covers, hiding the burns and charred state of it. Her touch was different, he thought. It wasn’t the touch of the woman in his mind that he had been looking for.

Lt Rhodes, CSO