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The situation in sickbay was beginning to come under control. The number of people coming in for treatment had trickled down to one during the past fifteen minutes. That injury had been minor: a broken nose, whose owner had had the misfortune of walking into a door that failed to open. It was easily dealt with, and a once again cheerful Lieutenant Riley walked out of sickbay, his nose showing no evidence of any recent mishap.

Despite the medical staff’s work, sickbay was still full of people who required intensive care. Crew quarters on the same deck were being changed into post-surgery recovery units, or PSRUs. Messier and Brent were out there, arranging the transformation. According to their latest status report, they were about to finish the last two rooms. The entire undertaking had taken only a short time. The medical drills Doctor McCoy occasionally ran were well worth the hassle.

Chapel turned her attention to checking on the skin patch that covered most of Crewman Polk’s right arm. Focusing on the task demanded her full attention. Her thoughts were a total mess, trying to draw her away from her work. It was an indication of how tired she was. However, she’d kept up her resolve not to use a stimulant. That was her final option; if the situation deteriorated enough that she couldn’t function without a hypo, she would have to think about the patients first, and herself second.

Chapel found herself thinking about her past—the people and things she had left behind for a career in space, her teenage ballerina phase that was over after the third lesson, the months of blue-eyed hope after her fiancé’s disappearance and the profound change that followed. It was all so long ago, but—

“Christine!”

She turned to see Cheryl Thomas approaching her. The younger woman had done sterling work today, unfazed by the confusion. “Yes, Cheryl?”

“How’re you holding up? You look like you’re going to fall asleep any moment now,” the nurse asked, her bun losing its ornate curl—evidence of long, demanding hours.

“I’m fine,” Chapel said. “And you’re exaggerating.”

“Look, you’ve done all you can to help these people; the least you can do now is look after yourself.”

“I’ll rest when there are no more patients that need to be treated.”

“Uh, right. So you want to stay up indefinitely, is that it?”

“No, of course not. I—”

“Nurse!” Doctor McCoy’s voice rang out across the ward. Chapel turned her head, glad for the interruption.

Yes, you’re glad because you know you’d lose the argument. How very responsible of you.

Chapel was angry at herself, because her inner voice was right. “Yes, Doctor?” she said to shut it up.

“Could you do me a favor and finish sealing this man’s lacerated eye?” He motioned at the supine figure on the bed next to him. It was Chief Yocum, the Saurian that had been in the recreation room with him during the most recent… shockwave, or whatever the cause of all this was.

It was simple work, perfect for her current state. She didn’t dare show McCoy how tired she really was.

“Christine,” he said softly. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

“Doctor?”

“Get some rest. We’re just about done here, anyway. A few hours of sleep’ll do you a world of good.”

He knew her too well.

The sound of the main sickbay doors swishing open saved her from having to reply. A group of security guards, led by Lieutenant Leslie, trooped in, bearing three redshirted people on stretchers. They swiftly moved them onto empty beds.

“What’s up?” McCoy asked, his short-sleeved arms crossed over his chest.

Leslie sighed, weariness evident in his face. The situation was taking a toll on everybody, in every department. Over the past few hours, security had been instrumental in getting those people to sickbay who couldn’t get there on their own. “Unknown,” Leslie said. “All three were off shift when the distortion hit, and should have reported to damage control. When they didn’t, Lieutenant DeSalle sent Galloway to see what had happened.”

David Galloway was the tall, strong-looking security officer standing next to Leslie. “I thought they were sleeping,