1 1: The Commander

Rain. It seemed like here, all it did was rain. The soil stuck in clumps to his shoes. He frowned, blue eyes trained on the tracks left by the man in front of him. To his right, electric fences hummed threateningly. It was as if the guards made them take this path to remind them how trapped they truly were here; how pitiful their race had become.

The ahresh were once a proud, mighty people. Their government was a well-regarded model for civilizations across the galaxy. They spread their knowledge, colonizing peacefully, not having to raise a weapon in nearly a thousand years. That was the way the humans won. Limited weapons from ancient wars proved no match for the guns and starships of human fleets. The ahresh fell.

Ha'zai rose from the embers of his dying civilization. He fought, climbed up from the muck, determined to see the world he had only heard tales of, but here, in the rain and mud and metal that made up the Little Georgia prison camp, that goal seemed impossibly far. His title, his accomplishments, they meant nothing here.

"Alright, you know the drill! Fall in line!" A human woman shouted. Ha'zai grimaced as, around him, the gaze of ahresh men fell to their feet, afraid to look the guards in their eyes. A man approached the line from behind the woman. His eyes scanned over the line of prisoners- cold, ruthless. The face of the warden was one Ha'zai had daydreams of smashing in. Taking a clipboard from the woman, he kept sweeping his eyes over the line of men. Ha'zai looked on, waiting for their eyes to lock. When they did, the man grinned. It took all Ha'zai had in him not to gag. Those yellowed teeth behind those thin, pale lips looked ready to strike like some kind of rabid animal. It made Ha'zai's stomach turn.

The man began listing groupings of numbers. Each man in line rattled off a generic response to confirm his presence. As he continued down his list, the human walked down the line. His eyes kept flicking back to Ha'zai, the only man who refused to bow his head. When the human approached, standing directly at his front, Ha'zai stared through him.

"H-4673," The human grinned again. Ha'zai could smell the tobacco on his breath. He wanted to spit in his face.

"My name is Ha'zai Maaik, son of Ta'mira Maaik. I'm not a number." Ha'zai locked eyes with the human, his face set in stony resolve. He would not waver, not now. He'd already begun digging his grave. There was no point in begging his reaper's forgiveness now.

"That's not how you respond to me, H-4673. You really think you can get by with this shit?" The human's face began to burn red. His already tight skin seemed to stretch even tighter over his bones. Ha'zai couldn't help but grimacing. The man looked like a re-animated corpse to him- no color to his skin, yellowed teeth, greying hair that pulled back from the original hairline. It was unlikely that this human had ever been attractive for his species. It was obvious by the gaunt cheeks and the crooked teeth. Ha'zai nearly looked away, his stomach turning over with disgust.

"My name is Ha'zai Maaik, not a number. I am Ha'zai and I am ahresh. Not some damn number," Ha'zai held his chin high, his eyes defiant and bold. Something about the man's lack of recognition irritated Ha'zai. He knew communications were restricted. He knew the humans had little to no access to off-world information. His fame, his title, his rank- none of that held weight here. The way the human treated him made that glaringly clear.

"You little blue bastard!" The human's hand shot out, grabbing harshly onto the tendrils that took the place of hair on Ha'zai's head. Ha'zai cried out, pain ripping across his skull and down his neck. "You will answer to the numbers assigned to you, shithead! You have no name! You are nothing and you never will be! Am I clear?" The human's face was red as he strained his voice, shouting. His spit sprayed Ha'zai's face.

"I am Ha'zai Maaik. Don't be shy. Say my name," Ha'zai gritted his teeth through the pain. Even when pulled so roughly, Ha'zai managed the strength to jerk himself forward enough to spit squarely in the face of the human man. A flash of rage ripped across the human's expression and Ha'zai knew he'd made what was likely to be a very poor decision.

The human recoiled, yanking hard on Ha'zai's head and forcing him to the ground. Ha'zai fell to the mud, pain burning across his scalp. "Get this piece of shit outta here before I kill it." The human wiped away the spit from his face before throwing a hard kick into Ha'zai's ribs. Ha'zai sucked in a breath at the force of the blow, clenching his jaw to keep from shouting.

"Let's move, kid," a prison guard grunted as he hoisted Ha'zai to his feet. The human guard struggled as Ha'zai went limp in his arms, refusing to walk. The other ahresh stared in shock at the event taking place.

"He said move, dumbass. Good Lord," a second guard walked over, aiding the other man. "I know your correctional officer'll have a grand time with you for this shit. You won't be walking for a while when he's done with you." The guard growled. Her words sent a jolt of fear through him, but he held his neutral expression with stony resolve. Only a few more days at most and he, and the others, would be freed. Soldiers from the Collective would come. They never failed to, not for their favorite Commander.

Despite the fear he had at the mention of his correctional officer, the thought of the Collective made him smirk to himself. These humans had no idea what was coming for them. Hundreds of devoted soldiers all coming to the beacon that was Ha'zai. Battalions of Collective Initiative soldiers would flood the camp before the warden would have a chance to react.

The plans had been in the making for months. Ha'zai played them over in his head until he had them ingrained so deeply he could perform all tasks without even thinking. He played them over again as the two guards continued to haul him away from the line. First, the Collective soldiers would take out the power- no communications meant no distress signals. Then, the men strong enough to fight would be armed and sent to sweep the camp for prisoners. Finally, as everyone was loaded onto transport vessels, Ha'zai would hold the line until the very end. Once everyone was safe, he'd cross a pre-determined threshold, setting off landmines he had planted over the months he had been interred at the camp. As soon as the Collective soldiers entered, his biometrics would be synced to the sensors they would place at the exit. All he would have to do is get everyone to safety, then cross a line to blow the place to hell where it belonged. The idea that soon, both of the humans dragging him would soon be nothing more than mounds of meat filled him with a sense of what could almost be considered joy.

As he let his thoughts slide through the plans again, they reached the holding block where Ha'zai's correctional officer would soon come to dole out whatever punishments he deemed proper for the little stunt his charge had pulled at the roll-call lineup. Ha'zai finally decided to start walking as they entered the building, not too overtly fond of the idea of being dragged down the concrete stairs that led to the holding cells.

Normally, the cells were empty, save for a few repeat offenders like Ha'zai. On this day, the face of a young man peered out of one barred window, staring at Ha'zai with a gaze full of admiration. The young ahresh looked no older than twenty with vibrant green irises that stood out starkly against his black sclera. His cerulean skin was mottled with darker bruises. The young man's hands clenched the bars and Ha'zai could see his knuckles were scraped and bloodied. He'd been fighting with his fists.

The guards led Ha'zai to a cell across the aisle from the young man, roughly shoving him inside. Ha'zai stumbled, caught off guard, as the door slammed closed behind him. He turned quickly, pivoting to face the door as the lock clicked into place. The whole time, his eyes never left the young man who held his gaze with a steady fire. Ha'zai recognized that determination. This man was a Collective soldier.

Breaking his stare for only a moment, Ha'zai waited until he heard the cellblock door close before he spoke.

"You're not from here," Ha'zai probed at the man without actually asking anything. He wouldn't disclose his affiliations to a stranger.

"Flight Lieutenant Ka'iil Dopjan. You're the man I've been looking for. Thanks for making my job a lot easier," the younger man smiled to Ha'zai. "Collective Fleet, Special Forces Division unit two and best pilot the Collective Initiative could throw at you. The unit sent me in two days ago to try to hunt you down before the invasion. They're coming today. I doubt you'll even see your correctional officer."

"Kid, not to be an asshole, but how old are you? You definitely don't look old enough to be sent out alone as a scout pilot," Ha'zai raised an eyebrow, looking skeptically at the man in front of him. This was a man hardly out of childhood, yet here he stood, claiming to be the best pilot the Collective had to offer to a Commander of Ha'zai's notability.

"I'm nineteen. Graduated top of my class at the Shiala Flight Academy when I was seventeen. I've flown with the SFD ever sense. I'm telling you, I'm one of the best they've got. I'm more than capable of scouting," Ka'iil was a bit defensive when he responded, his eyes narrowed with a certain look of defiance.

"If you were so good a scout, you'd have found me before they locked you up here," Ha'zai fired back with a similar expression. Ka'iil shrugged and nodded, accepting the fact that, maybe, he wasn't as good a scout as he'd wanted to believe. "Now that you have me, was there any information they wanted you to relay?"

"Yes, Commander. Ground squads were diverted to a larger battle at the Lunar base, Myra so we're only working with the SFD and three platoons from Caatadala Company, so you'll have about two hundred and ten men. Ten SFD soldiers and two hundred Caatadala men under the command of Lieutenant Commander Jhada Sizhut, Lieutenant Aria Ghoba, and Lieutenant Eshu Ayohod. Lieutenant Commander Nictus Yalait is running evac out of shiala shuttles with the SFD men. When we complete evacuation, we will be set for rendezvous with orbital station Lyra within minutes. Is there anything else you wanted to know?" Ka'iil's demeanor shifted as he explained the plans. Ha'zai, for a moment, caught a glimpse of the soldier the young man professed himself to be.

"No, thank you, Lieutenant," Ha'zai played over the strategy in his head again, adjusting his thoughts for the new lack of men. Being down almost three hundred men was unplanned, but didn't spell doom. It was far from ideal, but he had been in more dire straits than this. Two hundred and ten trained soldiers, two commanding officers he knew well, and a whole prison camp full of angry, vengeful ahresh men and women- as hard as it would be, it was more than possible.

As his thoughts raced through his mind, there was a loud snapping noise overhead. He glanced up just in time to see the light bulb's filament burst. They'd begun the assault. Emergency lights came on, tinting the hall a dull shade of red. The shadows cast from the bars of the cell door windows stretched across the floor and up the back wall.

"What did I say? You got to get out of corrections today, my friend," Ka'iil laughed, shouting jubilantly. His joy was echoed by shouts of other men in the holding cells. "Freedom or death! May we meet again across the water, brothers! Fight well!" He shouted down the hall to the other men. A chorus of triumphant shouts echoed up the hallways, bouncing off the walls enough to make the small group sound more like a small army.

Above the cellblock bunker, the sounds of muffled gunfire rang out as the platoons began their assault. The crash of a fence being torn down sounded loud even in the concrete box they'd found themselves in.

It only took minutes to hear movement in the halls at the top of the staircase. Ringing gunshots, shouts, and eventually silence except for the hurried sound of footsteps. Three figures in full assault gear jogged down the stairs. All three carried heavy loads of weaponry, but a small female also carried medical supplies on her back. She was much too small to be ahresh. They'd sent him a human. As she unlocked his cell door with a stolen keycard, it took all of his willpower not to just shove her away.

"Commander, I'm Lieutenant Ophelia Sterling. I'll be your squad's field medic until we get you off-world. I've been instructed to bring you a Viper-19 assault rifle, fully automatic as you requested in your mission file. Do you have any pressing injuries that should be addressed before we go above ground?" She spoke quickly as she pulled open the door and offered him the rifle. He took it, not saying a word to her in response before he began barking out orders.

"Ka'iil, go find your scout shuttle first and foremost. Take one of these men with you," He gestured to the men in assault armor. Ka'iil motioned for one to join him. "You'll be the shuttle this ground squad takes for evac. You," he gestured to the other armored man, "stay close to me and give me cover fire. I'll take point. The rest of you men stay low and move fast. Get to whatever shuttle you can reach and board. Get off this planet as fast as possible and help anyone you can." His gaze fell sharply onto Ophelia, his eyes narrowed as the chromatophores in his skin flashing a sickly green as he looked her over, "You stay out of my way. Try not to get killed." He snarled out the words before turning to head up the stairs.

Ophelia watched him turn, shock painting her features behind the visor of her tactical helmet. She had rescued him and he thanked her by showing blatant disdain for her. She shook her head slightly, pushing away the nagging line of thought. She knew that she had no time to dwell on her own emotions if the small squad were to make it out alive.

Ha'zai trotted up the stairs, checking the rifle as he went. It was nearly perfect. A high-powered assault rifle, fully automatic, with laser targeting. The lack of his preferred sights irritated him, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. As he reached the upper hall, he saw the bodies of the two guards who had drug him into the cell. He grinned to himself. Something about seeing them dead was satisfying to him even if he wasn't the one to take the shot.

He knelt down, removing an armored chest plate from a fallen guard and fastening it to himself. He glanced back over his shoulder as the rest of the inmates and soldiers fell in line behind him. Standing, he made eye contact with Ka'iil. The young man had an expression of readiness, but the fear he harbored still settled in his eyes. Ha'zai clenched his jaw. Once, he had been the scared teenager with the desire for change but the fear of death. Seeing the young man in front of him set his resolve- the mission simply could not fail. Thousands of others just like the young fighter pilot were counting on squads like his.

"You know your positions. Let's move," Ha'zai shouldered his rifle and opened the doors. The pop of gunfire rang out from all directions as the group scattered towards their targets. He ran ahead, sticking to debris for cover as he pushed toward the exit. Ka'iil skirted the edge of the battle, heading for the hidden shuttle he had come in on. The inmates joined the fray as Ha'zai provided cover fire. Ophelia, though reluctant, remained behind Ha'zai as he had commanded. It was not a position she'd ever choose for herself by far, but she wasn't a commander. He was. She could only do so much outside of his orders. Ha'zai flagged her down with a wave of his arm, calling her over to him. She jogged over, sticking close to cover.

"Commander?" She knelt down behind the broken chunk of concrete he had chosen for cover.

"You go with Ka'iil. Stick to the edges of the camp. You're a medic. It's important that you get out in case someone needs help onto the shuttles," Ha'zai didn't look at her as he spoke, instead keeping his eyes trained ahead to observe.

"Yes sir," Ophelia reluctantly agreed. She had no particular interest in being essentially benched for a prison break. The command irritated her to her core, but he had a point. The longer she was alive, the more lives she could save. She was sure of one thing: this man wasn't one she was particularly keen on getting killed for.

She ducked away, following closely behind Ka'iil as he headed for the shuttles. Ha'zai watched them carefully for a moment until they vanished around a corner. Once they were out of sight, he stood from his cover, popping off a short burst of shots into a human battalion. As he pressed towards the exit, he spotted the three platoons of Caatadala soldiers. Two fought while a large portion of the third ushered prisoners out of the designated exit point. His eyes were quick to find familiar faces among them, Jhada being the most striking among the masses. Her small, emerald green scales and orange throat made her vibrant against the rainy backdrop of the battle. Long brown hair loose and slick with rain, she shouted orders to her men as she tried to tame it. In the dreary atmosphere, Jhada was a welcome spot of color and familiarity for Ha'zai. Even at a distance, her presence provided a welcome warmth. To her left, a rather cold looking arcturian woman looked over a map of what Ha'zai presumed was the prison camp. The light rain that fell made the black scales on her skin shine like dark diamonds- reflecting all shades of color in an iridescent show. Lieutenant Eshu Ayohod was a skilled strategist and even more skilled sharp shooter. Ha'zai personally believed that forcing her into a more administrative position was a waste of her talent for removing particular persons from any given census. Aria Ghoba was nowhere to be seen. That, when thought over for even half a moment, was not abnormal for the rather aggressive shiala woman. She was honed to kill, as all shiala soldiers were, and unlikely to deprive herself of even a moment of battle. Standing at an average of seven feet tall, weighing upward of three-hundred pounds, and naturally armored with thick chitin plates- they were biologically made to fight. Nictus was far from sight as well, somewhere beyond the fence, loading shuttles. Unlike his compatriot Aria, Nictus wasn't as outwardly aggressive. Despite his shared heritage and upbringing with the Lieutenant, Nictus preferred the administrative parts of war.

Ha'zai continued to push towards them as he observed the scene before him. His push forward was rather uncontested, only requiring a few shots to be fired before he was officially in the thick of the battle. Most of the refugees had been safely moved to shuttles. Now, it was time to clean up shop so the stragglers would have an easy time making their way out. He made his way into position, eyes trained on where the military police engaged the final squad of rebel prisoners.

Grabbing a handheld radio from a fallen soldier behind the cover he had chosen, he tuned to what he knew was the rebel frequency. "Ka'iil, you at the shuttle?" He asked over the radio, turning for a moment to peek over his cover and fire a burst of shots into the horde of human military police.

"Safe and sound, Commander. Awaiting orders," the young man answered with an almost cheerful tone. Ha'zai was shocked to hear he'd made it out without issue, but pleased nonetheless.

"Good. The last squad of refugees is on the retreat. Get that shuttle in close. I'm gonna need a quick escape once I get by those sensors." Ha'zai shouted over the noise of gunfire, keeping his head low and well behind cover. From where he crouched, he could see the pulsing light of biometric sensors near the extraction point. The second he crossed that sensor line, Little Georgia prison camp would be razed to the ground by explosive charges.

"Affirmative. Heading in now," Ha'zai could hear the whirr of the shuttle's engines coming to life right before the radio cut off. Glancing towards the gates, he spotted Nictus. The massive man was hard to miss. His leathery face was smeared with mud along with the majority of the front of his armor. The crest of spines that adorned the top of his skull dripped with water. His sharp amber eyes landed on Ha'zai as he waited patiently for the signal to send off the shuttles. Ha'zai gave a motion of his hand and Nictus nodded, repeating the motion to a nearby shuttle pilot as he boarded. As the shuttles lifted away, that left only Ha'zai and the final members of the rebel squad on the ground.

They'd found themselves in quite the unfavorable position. To one side of him, the final squad was still fighting towards the exit. To the other side of him, the human army advanced with crushing force. He was too close to the exit point as it was and he knew one false move would mean crossing the sensor line. He popped up for a moment from his cover, firing a burst of shots into the advancing line of human soldiers. As he went to duck behind a piece of cover, he felt an explosive force slam into his left shoulder. The blow knocked him off his feet, forcing him back nearly ten feet. High powered rounds from human weapons were twice as bad as anyone had told him they would be. Clutching at his mangled shoulder and struggling for each breath, Ha'zai struggled to push himself upright. When he managed to right himself, he was horrified. He laid with his chest just beyond the sensor line. The steady pulse of the sensor light had turned to a solid glow. He'd broken the beam.

"No," He breathed out the word as he struggled to his feet. Ka'iil began to set the shuttle down, but Ha'zai turned to him in a panic. "Ka'iil! Get that shuttle out of here! Now!" Ha'zai screamed over the sound of distant explosions as the charges began to detonate. He staggered away from the exit, clutching at his shoulder. Each step seemed to knock the breath from his lungs. He made the mistake of looking back as he heard the explosions growing closer. For a fraction of a moment, he caught the eyes of one of the members of the squad. The man was injured and seemed aware that he wouldn't be making his escape. He looked heartbroken, but his eyes gleamed with defiance. It was clear that he knew his death was going to help save the lives of others. He knew he was being martyred but he didn't care. He was taking out the enemy with him.

Ka'iil didn't hesitate to lift the shuttle away in spite of Ophelia's shouts of protest. Ha'zai ranked higher than he did. He was in no position to turn down orders from his commander.

As Ha'zai held the gaze of the soldier, the explosions of debris rushed forward and engulfed the man. Only then did Ha'zai's trance seem to break enough to allow him to run. He struggled, unable to move as quickly as he wished with the pain radiating from his damaged shoulder. Each step still stole air from his lungs.

The final charges at the gate detonated, sending Ha'zai flying from the shock wave. He landed in the mud in a twisted pile. Every bone and muscle cried out against him. Managing to roll so he laid on his back, he looked down to see a misshapen chunk of metal protruding from the left side of his abdomen. He was alarmed at the fact that he could hardly feel it. He could feel the foreign pressure, the warmth of the dark blue blood that trickled from the hole, but he felt no pain. Certain he was on the verge of death, he closed his eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness.

The rain pattered against his face, cool and soothing compared to the searing hot cut that trailed from just below his left eye all the way down and over his lips. Each breath he took was shallow and his lungs screamed under the weight of useless, bruised ribs. The dirt had settled, the shuttles were gone, the camp was destroyed. That was what mattered to him. If he died there, laying in the mud and a pool of his own blood, at least it could be said that he had died on the home world. Though, over the deafening ringing in his ears, he almost swore he heard a shuttle.

"Shit, he's down here! He's still moving! You're up, doc!" Ka'iil's voice was muffled behind the sound of the engines. Ha'zai pried his eyes open and looked to his side. They'd come back for him.

"I'm going to have to move you," A woman's voice spoke gently to him. She was out of focus against the search light of the shuttle.

"I- can't feel- I can't feel anything. I'm gonna die. Let me die on my home world," Ha'zai's voice was weak as the woman and a man moved his body onto a stretcher. Shock had numbed his nerves. The pain was there, but it was distant, dull.

"I've never had a patient die on me. I don't intend on letting you be the first," she grunted as she and the man lifted the stretcher onto the shuttle. "Just stay with me. Tell me your name and rank, soldier. Can you do that?"

"Commander Ha'zai Maaik. Special Forces Division," He muttered out the words, his voice catching in his throat. She strapped him to the stretcher and the shuttle began to lift away once more. He hardly felt her as she inserted at least two IV needles into his good arm. After she did, she quickly moved to bandaging his busted shoulder. When she moved his arm, he cried out. Even shouting hurt. If his ribs weren't broken, they were surely bruised. The merciful numbness of shock had begun to wear away as he was moved, repositioned, and jostled.

"Stay calm. I know it hurts. There's nothing I can do until we get to Lyra," As the painkillers in one of the IV drips began to work, Ha'zai cracked open his eyes. The voice was familiar. It was the human woman, Ophelia. He grimaced, this time from disgust.

"You should have let me die," He snarled out the words, "I lost fifteen men. N-now I-I'm being bandaged by the enemy," His voice was weak, and his head lolled from side to side as he spoke, unable to exert the strength needed to stabilize his own neck.

"Don't start. You'll thank me later. If I remember correctly, Ka'ala Darjo has taken a real shine to you. You can't die on her now. You're her poster boy, commander," Ophelia tried to lighten his dark mood with a rather upbeat tone considering the situation.

Ha'zai didn't respond as she kept working to stabilize his vitals and stop the bleeding from his shoulder. There was nothing she could do for the shrapnel in his abdomen while on the shuttle. That would require the surgery suite on Lyra. The refugee space station was always well equipped to deal with traumatic injuries in soldiers and prisoners. Ophelia still worked to do all she could. When it was clear she'd reached the limits of her abilities on the shuttle, she removed the painkiller drip from Ha'zai's arm and administered an anesthetic. As long as he slept it was easier to keep him stable. In his waking state, he was likely to turn hostile to her, potentially making himself worse in the process. As mean as he had been to her on their initial meeting, no one deserved to die like this. Especially not someone who was widely regarded as a war hero.

"Sterling, can I speak with you for a moment?" Ka'iil called back to the doctor from the cockpit of the transport shuttle. She lifted her gaze from the man in front of her and sighed softly.

"Yeah. He's stable at the moment. It's all I can do until we dock. What's wrong?" Ophelia closed the few feet of distance between where she sat and where Ka'iil was. She peered through the doorway, keeping one eye on Ha'zai and the other trained on the holo display on her arm monitoring his vitals.

"Nothing's wrong, but I had a bit I wanted to talk to you about before we dock. Once we dock and you get back to your station, it's unlikely I'll have the chance again. I just wanted to thank you for how much you've helped today. And for saving my commander. Well, I suppose I should say, 'thank you for saving a military legend'," He chuckled softly to himself. Ophelia gave him a bit of a sideways look. "In the last couple minutes, I got a transmission from Darjo. She's been watching the battle remotely from the flagship through shuttle cams. She's giving him a Medal of Valor. Oh, and you've been promoted. Congratulations Lieutenant Commander," He smiled back at her. "However, that's not what I wanted to mention in particular. Ha'zai has also been granted command of a ship- the ACIS Horizon. She's advanced. Beautiful honestly. He's lobbied for a ship since well before this mission. That's been over a year now. After his little act of heroism by sending us off and risking his life just to make sure we were safe, Darjo determined that was all the proof she needed to finally give him a ship to command. I guess what I'm getting at is that she's offered you a spot on the team as the ship's medic," Ka'iil looked to her expectantly, awaiting her answer.

"Wow- I- wow. I don't know if I should. He doesn't seem awfully fond of my existence for starters, and there's bound to be someone more quali-" Ka'iil held up a hand to stop her.

"There's no one he likes, first of all. From all I've heard of him, he's bitter, unlikeable, and often just downright grating to be around. And secondly, there's not a soul more qualified for the position on an SFD vessel. You've demonstrated quick thinking under pressure in live fire situations more than once. You're brilliant on the battle field as well as in the operating room. In your years partnered with the ACI, you've only ever lost one patient and that was to terminal illness. You're damn impressive. Plus, you and I both know not to tell the Fleet Admiral no. So, can I put you on record as accepting?" Ka'iil chuckled and glanced back at Ophelia.

"Well, when you put it like that, I suppose it would be rather stupid of me to turn it down. Report it as accepted," She spared a glance back to Ha'zai. His busted arm hung limp off the stretcher. The other escaped inmates appeared to be in prayer with their heads bowed solemnly. Her stomach felt tight. She worried briefly that she may have her first loss today. She shook away the thought as she turned back to face Ka'iil, "Can you send a message saying to have the surgical suite prepared for a trauma, ETA five minutes. Make sure they have corridor 14-A cleared. We're gonna have to go in through entrance closest to the OR. There's no way we can get him there in time from the main docking bay." Ophelia checked his vital signs. He was as steady as could be maintained in the environment where they found themselves. His heart rate was lower than she wished for it to be, but there was nothing she could do with field equipment to aid that.

"Can do, Lieutenant. I'll send that over now," Ka'iil pressed a series of buttons on the control panel then spoke into a radio transmitter, saying exactly what Ophelia had told him to. She then turned her full attention to Ha'zai and the other refugees again. Some had their heads bowed, muttering in a language unknown to her. When they looked up, she turned away quickly, not wanting to appear rude.

"You're wondering who we pray to aren't you?" One man looked to her. His green irises shined vibrantly against the black of his sclera. "We call to Aru. He is the Lord of those who hover between the worlds. He would be the one who decides if Ha'zai stays with us or crosses the great ocean to Isho, the home of the dead. We can only hope our words keep him with us on this side of the sea." The man spoke softly. It became evident that this man was older than the others. In the way he spoke, it was clear he was over one hundred years old. He didn't speak the way the younger ahresh did. The younger generations had all but lost the smooth accent of their native language. This man's speech was accented with rolling 'r' sounds and long, round vowels. He had seen the world before the occupation as a child. Now, half way through his long life, he was fighting to see it again.

"Thank you for praying for him. He needs all the kind words you can offer." The small group looked to Ha'zai, all eyes landing on the wound blown in his side that had been covered with a clear, sterilized plastic bandage, bound to his skin with its adhesive edges. Ophelia clenched her jaw as she looked at him. If he died, she'd never forgive herself for removing him from his home world.

It was only moments later that Ka'iil announced their approach with the station. Ophelia perked up, signaling for one of the refugees to help her with the stretcher and IV pole. They held tight to the stretcher as the ship shuttered into the docking bay. Ha'zai groaned as he was lifted from where he laid.

"You're gonna be okay… You're gonna be okay," Ophelia muttered as she helped hoist him up. It sounded almost as if she was trying to convince herself of it. Then, muttering only to herself, she said, "I'd never forgive myself if you weren't."

From the cockpit, Ka'iil called out to her and the others, "Your corridor's clear, doc. Good luck, Lieutenant Commander."

As Ophelia lifted Ha'zai from the shuttle with the aid of a refugee, she nodded to herself, "Let's hope for the best. I'll see you on Lyra." She spoke quickly as they began to rush toward the operating suite with Ha'zai.

He looked so much smaller than he had when they had met ground-side. Here, a hole blown through his life, new scars forming across his body, the cocky, bitter man showed his true age. No longer did he seem to be the larger than life hero. Now, it was clear he was a young man, not much older than her, who was hanging onto life by the thinnest of threads. If he died, she'd never forgive herself for removing him when he begged her not to. Her own pride drove her this time as the procedure began. Fearing a guilt she would struggle to bear, she did all she could.

For the next three hours, she kept repeating the phrase to herself: I'm doing all I can.