Chương 454: 214.Cardiac Arrest 3

Thirty seconds ago, the medical bay had looked like an illegally constructed building in the middle of a partial collapse. Lan was still laughing too hard to stand straight, the accomplices in back were half playing dead and half playing busy, and Jess had been pressed back onto the bed by the medics—hair a mess, shoulder having taken two hits from me, that punchable smile not entirely dead on her face.

And I was still standing where the medics had left me, breathing uneven, the blood trail from where I'd pulled the IV not yet wiped off the back of my hand. Honestly, judging by composition, this room should be called a scene of the accident rather than a medical bay. Then the door opened. Not kicked in with a bang, not a sliding door jamming and making an embarrassing grinding noise. It was the standard-to-the-point-of-nerve-grating sound of an automatic door opening. Beep. The door slid silently to both sides.

Maki walked in. In that instant, I finally understood something. Some people don't need to raise their voice, and don't need to show anger on their face. They only need to appear, and the air drops two degrees on its own, and every living thing instinctively reviews what it just did. Maki stopped at the doorway and didn't speak at once. She just looked. First at the white sheet on the floor. Then at the skewed bed. At Lan, whose laugh hadn't finished retracting.

At Jess, pinned by the shoulder by a medic and still wearing a face that said "I think this batch came out well." Finally, Maki's gaze landed on me. I suddenly had a very bad feeling. Not the battlefield kind of bad, "the enemy's guns just turned toward us"—the more troublesome kind, where you're alive and well and start wondering whether you'd volunteer to hang outside in vacuum again just to avoid the meeting in front of you. Silence came down over the room extremely fast.

Lan had been laughing hard enough to fold over, and now she didn't even dare twitch a shoulder. The accomplices were more direct: their expressions went instantly from attempted post-hoc disassociation to an advanced form of "I was just passing through." Even the medics edged half a step sideways, as if by instinct handing the field back to some higher, more terrifying management system. Maki closed the terminal in her hand. The sound was very soft. But it landed like a gavel.

"Good," Maki said. Just two words. My temple started aching. Because knowing Maki's speech habits, when she opens with "good," what follows is usually nothing anyone actually wants to hear. Sure enough. Maki stepped forward two paces, positioning herself between the bed and me where she could see the whole room, her tone level to the point of cruelty.

"What I see at present is a patient just recovered from hypothermia and hypoxia risk, removing her own IV, leaving her bed, and becoming emotionally agitated." Maki's gaze swept over me.

"A patient who has just resumed spontaneous breathing and should, in theory, be on absolute bed rest, disguising herself as a corpse with a white sheet and staging a medical bay prank." Her gaze turned to Jess.

"A combat squad member." Lan twitched slightly.

"Assisting in the medical area with the fabrication of a death atmosphere, and failing to terminate the plan promptly when the patient was on the edge of an emotional breakdown." Lan spoke, very quietly.

"I did think about stopping it partway—""Quiet," Maki said. Her tone wasn't heavy. But it was extremely precise. Lan shut up on the spot, as fast as if someone had cut her vocal system. I almost laughed. Not out of unkindness, but because the sequence was so smooth. The number of people on this ship who can shut Lan down in half a second probably doesn't exceed five, and Maki is clearly the one among them who least needs to give a second order. The problem was I didn't get to laugh long either.

Because Maki looked back at me the next second.

"In addition, I see a patient just out of critical observation delivering a physical strike to another patient with sufficient force to cause secondary injury." I spoke at once.

"There was a reason."

"I know," Maki said.

"The reason is that you were provoked."

"No, what I mean is, that bastard started—""I know that too." Maki nodded, calm as if helping me complete a very poor report.

"First inducing your trauma response, then hiding under the sheet to produce a scare of no taste whatsoever, then being answered by you in a rather personal manner." Jess added something quietly from the bed.

"Actually, that 'waaah' was designed—" Maki didn't even turn her head.

"Jess, one more word and I'll have medical strap you to the bed until noon tomorrow." Jess shut up at once. Faster than Lan had, even. I suddenly felt this was very fair. Somebody in this world has to be able to handle them. Maki's gaze swept the scene again, as if filing every absurdity into an archive that would never be deleted.

"Medical curtain derailed. Bed displaced. Two sets of monitoring leads detached. Emergency supply cart knocked fifteen centimeters off true. Floor contamination beyond baseline. Three medical staff forced to suspend normal rounds to deal with your collective farce—one that could justify applying for theater funding." The accomplices in back began silently lowering their heads further and further. I wanted to lower mine too.

Unfortunately I was one of the people standing straightest in the room, and suddenly ducking would only make me look more like the accused. Maki paused. That pause was very dangerous. Because it meant everything before was just a list of facts, and the part that actually killed hadn't started yet. Sure enough, Maki went on.

"I had originally intended, once you were both conscious, to begin with mission result confirmation, followed by a brief explanation of the missile impact effects and the latest changes in Europa's communications suppression zone." Maki tapped the edge of the terminal lightly.

"But I now believe that before discussing operational results, it is more necessary to confirm one thing." If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Maki raised her eyes.

"Whether all of you have collectively lost basic judgment." The moment that sentence landed, the medical bay went quiet enough to hear the antiseptic evaporating. Lan worked very hard to turn her face away. One accomplice in back even took half a step backward, as if afraid the sentence would splash onto his uniform. And I stood there, suddenly realizing I couldn't even mount a rebuttal. Because objectively, Maki was right. The problem was that subjectively, I still very much wanted to punch Jess again.

Jess had probably also sensed that her living environment was deteriorating rapidly, because she finally settled quietly on the bed, only half her face showing. One corner of the white sheet still hung off her shoulder, a picture so absurd that it made you want to plant a sign at the head of the bed reading: THIS PATIENT WAS JUST RECOVERED FROM THE EDGE OF DEATH AND IS NOW ACTIVELY SEEKING A SECOND CHANCE. Maki reopened the terminal.

"Briefing begins now." My heart sank. Done for. Once that phrase comes out, things usually don't end in a very humane way.

"First," Maki said.

"Jess, you planned an improvisational prank themed on death, targeting a combat member who had just experienced the risk of her partner losing respiration, and who is herself in recovery from severe physiological stress. This conduct was childish, inefficient, and stupid." Jess gave a small cough.

"You could delete that last remark—""No," Maki said.

"Because it is the most accurate part of the case." I nearly lost it. No. If I laughed now, my turn was probably next.

"Second," Maki continued.

"Lan, you and several other members assisted in the fabrication and in building the atmosphere, and failed to stop immediately once the situation clearly exceeded the bounds of a joke. This indicates not only a misjudgment on your part, but a fine aptitude for cooperating with escalating risk." Lan muttered under her breath.

"That didn't sound like a compliment at all."

"It wasn't." Clean. Precise to the bone. I was beginning to understand why Maki, who is not the type to stand in the front rank holding a gun, can still make a crowd carry out orders automatically. Because she is genuinely good at breaking someone's stupidity down into bullet points and reading it aloud to their face. In a sense, that's more frightening than punishment. Punishment only hurts for a while; being called out by Maki like this makes you want to be embarrassed for the rest of your life.

"Third." Maki's gaze finally settled on me, and stayed noticeably longer.

"Hoshino Shimo." My scalp prickled. When your full name gets called out, it's usually not good news.

"Your emotional state is entirely understandable," Maki said, tone still level.

"But understanding does not equal permission. You removed your own drip before you were fully recovered, left your bed, and pursued and struck a patient. If you had missed a step just now, or if Jess had suffered secondary injury from the impact, the medical team's workload today would have doubled." I opened my mouth.

"But—""I know," Maki said.

"You were very angry."

"I wasn't very angry." I heard my own voice go a little stiff.

"I was nearly scared to death." The moment that came out, the room went silent for an instant. Lan stopped moving. The accomplices stopped moving too. Even the medics quietly drifted their gazes away, as if suddenly realizing some things couldn't be casually stepped into. I blanked for a second too. Because that wasn't a sentence I'd planned to say. At least not that blunt, that bare, that unwilling to leave myself a step down. But once said, it couldn't be taken back.

And the moment it left my mouth, I actually felt a strange relief. Like the stone that had been pressing on my chest for a while now had finally been kicked once, by me. Not kicked away, but at least no longer just lying there pressing down. Maki looked at me. She paused for a very short second. Then Maki said it.

"I know." Those two words were different from every "I know" before them. The earlier "I know"s were sealing, cutting off, saying you don't need to explain because I see through you faster than you can. Not this one. This one had no order in it, no correction, not even any coldness. Very light, but very exact. Like a needle that pricked nothing open, and still touched the place you least wanted anyone to reach. I didn't know what to say for a moment. I hate that she can do that.

People like Maki have the ability to toss you a small piece of understanding right when you're about to reach the bottom of your anger, so that even continuing to explode looks unreasonable. Of course, that didn't make Maki gentle. The next second, Maki pulled her tone back into official mode.

"Which is precisely why you should sit back down on the bed, instead of proving your emotional responses are still vigorous by punching someone." The corner of my mouth twitched. Next to me, Lan actually let out a very unkind snicker, then clamped her mouth shut hard. You could see Lan was in an intense struggle for survival: on one hand she thought I had definitely punched with real presence, on the other she knew perfectly well that laughing in front of Maki was the same as volunteering for an extended sentence.

At this point Jess finally, suicidally, raised a hand.

"I have an objection." I glared at her at once. This one really wanted to die. Maki looked at Jess.

"Speak." Jess leaned back on the pillow, and her expression actually held a trace of seriousness.

"What Frost did just now wasn't simply punching someone," Jess said.

"Strictly speaking, it's closer to post-traumatic stress operating in parallel with emotional confirmation—" I grabbed a roll of bandage from beside me and threw it.

"Shut up!" The bandage hit Jess square in the forehead. It didn't hurt, but it was loud. The mood in the medical bay nearly collapsed again. Lan clamped a hand over her mouth while her shoulders started shaking violently, and the people in back all wore the expression of "I knew I shouldn't have come today." Maki closed her eyes. Yes. Closed her eyes. Very brief, very light. But that gesture had more destructive power than slamming the desk.

Because it meant Maki was very likely counting silently in her head, deciding whether throwing all of us out of the medical bay would be more efficient. When Maki opened her eyes again, her tone had gone calm to the edge of freezing.

"Good. Since everyone's mental state is so lively, I'll announce the dispositions directly." Nobody dared interrupt. I even heard someone quietly swallow.

"Jess. For three days, your activity range may not extend beyond the medical area, and until the medical team gives written consent, you may not touch any sheets, curtains, emergency covers, or fabrics with covering functions." Lan's shoulders jerked hard. That line was too precise—precise to the point of absurdity. Jess opened her mouth to protest.

"Isn't that a little too targeted—""Yes," Maki said.

"Because you deserve it." I turned to look at Jess. Good. Justice prevails.

"Lan, and the rest of the participants." Maki continued.

"For one week starting today, you'll rotate through duties on the medical area's periphery. Including supply hauling, disinfection resupply, bed preparation, and medical inventory count. Since you love creating atmosphere so much, I assume you won't mind understanding medical operations more deeply." The accomplices' faces instantly lost all color of life. Lan raised her head, disbelief all over her face.

"Wait, inventory count is harsher than writing a report."

"Correct," Maki said.

"Because you'd probably copy each other's reports." I really almost laughed out loud. No. No, hold it in. Laugh now and mine will definitely be bigger. Then Maki looked at me. Here it comes. I knew it.

"Hoshino Shimo." I straightened a little. For some reason, I hadn't stood this alert even facing a muzzle.

"Your disposition is simpler," Maki said. That sentence did not reassure me at all.

"First, return to bed immediately. Second, reconnect the drip. Third, until medical confirms your values are stable, you are forbidden from pulling the needle again, leaving bed, hitting people, throwing things, or participating in medical bay internal violence of any form." I couldn't help speaking.

"What do you mean, medical bay internal violence—that name is way too formal."

"Because it has in fact occurred." Maki flipped the terminal open, as if genuinely preparing to register it.

"If you prefer, I can change it to 'patient brawl with accomplice assistance.'""... The first one, then." Maki nodded.

"A wise choice." Having said that, Maki finally put the terminal away. I'd assumed the lecture was about done. It wasn't. Maki turned to the whole room, her tone flatter and lower than before.

"One last addition." Everyone tensed at once. Maki said.

"The two of you making it back alive was not easy." The moment that came out, the whole atmosphere changed. Not warmer. Maki is not the type to boil a room into a hot spring. It was more like air that had been hard as metal suddenly taking one very fine crack. Nobody sobbed, nobody got sentimental, and expressions barely changed at all. But because it was so restrained, it was all the clearer. Maki looked at me, then at Jess.

"So next time you want to confirm to each other how much you care, please choose a method that doesn't increase the medical team's workload." Lan finally couldn't hold it and burst out. Jess turned her head away and laughed, entirely without backbone. My ears went hot instantly.

"Who cares," I retorted at once.

"I see." Maki nodded without expression.

"Then I'll remove from the report the section 'Hoshino Shimo lost emotional control after mistakenly believing Jess was dead,' and change it to 'Hoshino Shimo simply tends to answer failed humor with her fists.'""Don't write nonsense!"

"It isn't nonsense. It's version management." This time Lan really doubled over laughing. The accomplices in back also started shaking their shoulders with their heads down, clearly fighting to hold it in. Even one of the medics quietly turned their face away, probably afraid of having a moving mouth corner spotted. I stood there thinking that if I weren't still so weak, I probably would have passed out again from sheer anger.

And Jess, over there, actually had the nerve to sneak a hand out from under the blanket and hook a finger on my sleeve. Very lightly. Like she was afraid of being seen, and afraid I'd really ignore her. I looked down and glared at Jess. Jess didn't say anything. Her eyes just curved. Damn it. Naturally, it had to be now. Right after Maki had taken the entire incident apart and executed it as meeting agenda items, Jess still had it in her to put on an expression that was part apology and part pushing her luck.

The anger that had been burning so neatly suddenly scattered, turning into a fire with nowhere to go. Maki had clearly taken in that scene too. But Maki said nothing, only stepped back toward the door.

"That's all," Maki said.

"In five minutes, I want this medical bay back to normal. Hoshino back in bed. Jess quiet. Lan and the rest of the accomplices stay to help tidy. And if I come back and see any white sheet in a place it shouldn't be—" Maki stopped there.

"I'll send everyone for a full medical supply barcode inventory." Lan went pale.

"That's too cruel."

"This is a notice, not a negotiation." With that, Maki turned and left. The automatic door closed quietly behind Maki. Only once the door shut completely did the medical bay seem to recover from some collective petrification. Lan was the first to crouch down laughing and clutching her stomach, the accomplices collapsing along with her, all the expressions they'd been holding back bursting their banks at once. The medics cursed while starting to clean up, and pushed me toward the bed along the way.

And I stood where I was, not yet fully back from that very student-council-style public execution. Jess lay on her back looking at me, the corner of her mouth about to curl up again. I warned her immediately.

"If you dare laugh, I'll really bury you." Jess tried hard to hold it.

"... Okay." Two seconds later.

"Though..."

"What now."

"You just got logged in version management." I grabbed another roll of bandage. The whole medical bay burst out laughing again.