In the yawning hollow of the capital starship foundry, medical personnel swarmed like ants over the five cryo-trays that hung from racks, in much the same way that slabs of meat would be pinned up to roast in the noon sun back on Kharak during the times before technology had returned to them. But, of course, Kharak is gone now, Doctor Miirna Sjet thought. When she had first saw the clouds of blackness that covered half of her world, she had nearly choked on the grief she felt. But her medical training overrode the shock and the pain and the sense of loss that permeated her and the entire crew of the mothership. Everyone had been expecting to see family or friends, partners, or just their homes again upon their return from the hyperspace test. Now they would never see anyone again. As soon as the battle had concluded, Miirna had offered to take a shuttle on a flyby of Tiir to see if anyone had somehow survived the immolation strike, but the Admiralty had denied her request, citing the destructive power of the missile and the fact that no building on the planet could have protected flesh-and-blood beings from the firestorm that now burned on the surface. And, in hindsight, she had to agree. Even if someone had survived the wave of flames, they would not survive the after-effects of the blast, which had been strong enough to destabilise the gaseous equilibrium. Any survivors would have asphyxiated as the atmosphere spiralled away into the void, where it would drift forevermore.

Miirna watched as the cargo crews opened access hatches along the sides of the cryo-trays. Each tray had been extensively scanned the moment it had made contact with the heavy foundry loading door, and each cryogenic pod assessed for problems. So far, they hadn't picked up any fatalities, but several pods had reported damage as a result of battle. They would be automatically set aside by the unloading machines for checking and repair by medical and biotechnician crews. Unlike the attack on Kharak, they had planned for this eventuality. Miirna made sure her medscanner was calibrated correctly, then issued her final orders to her teams.

"Stay in your groups," she said, brushing a strand of jet-black hair from her face. "Keep an eye out for tagged pods. Remember that we need to keep people under unless it's absolutely necessary to bring them out. Triage rules apply, so if someone is too far gone, let them go." She felt guilty for saying such things in the light of the recent disaster, but there were five hundred thousand pods to process, and that could take days unless they got them out of the trays and into the cryogenic vault with a minimum of delay. The refreezing process took two weeks, and could be traumatic if done too fast or a number of times, so Miirna had decided that triage was the best way to deal with possibly fatal cases.

The pods, lozenge shaped and assembled in rows of ten, began to come down past the teams of medical personnel. Sjet tried to keep an eye on them, but the tagged ones would be automatically removed, so –

"We've got one!" she cried as one pod was separated from its row and floated to the side on antigrav palettes. Her team, which consisted of handful of doctors, nurses, and freshly-trained biotechnicians, surrounded the smooth metal and got their diagnostic tools out. Miirna watched as the vital signs of the sleeping Kharakid inside scrolled past on her medscanner. "Occupant is alive and healthy," she pronounced. "The freezing engine has suffered minor damage. It'll be repaired by the maintenance drones once it's installed in the vault. Next!"

The slightly-damaged cryogenic shell hovered away.

Miirna and her team processed another seven pods before a seriously-injured patient came up. She and her team worked with practised precision, and it seemed alright as the freezing engine and its components checked out with flying colours. But then the medical scans came back, and her heart skipped a beat in pain. "Damn, the occupant's redlining," she said. "Are you sure that the mechanics are okay?"

Her counterpart, a Nabaali technician, plugged his diagnostic tool back into the datalink and shrugged. "It's all fine. Everything is…hey, wait a second. We've got some major damage here! The datalink must be faulty. Life support and freezing is going on and off erratically!"

Damn.

"Life support manipulation controls, stat!" Miirna shouted. Someone opened the panel for her, and she went to work. Each cryogenic pod allowed medical staff to adjust settings and inject chemicals as treatment, in situations like this. A holographic display showed the patient inside in real time – this was almost as horrible as watching Kharak die. Inside the pod lay a swirl of black ugliness where a normal, healthy Kharakid should have been. Had she made some foolish mistake with her check? Or had the battle damage somehow caused the patient to deform like this? Whatever it was, it seemed to be progressive, based on the fluctuations in the freezing array.

"Go to emergency power," she snapped. Her nurse made the switch-over smoothly.

The hologram showed the twisted form of her patient spasm once. What's wrong? Every control is set properly, all back-ups functioning…why is it still happening? Your assistant is as perplexed as you! Damn this technology! "Override primary systems! Get him on an auxiliary freezing engine!"

"Transfer not working…"

A fresh wave of fright swept over Miirna as she stole another glance at her patient, who was clearly misshapen now. She began the thawing procedure, in clear violation of her own orders, and waited as the emergency protocols started the long process of revival. She dialled the speed up as fast as it would let her, but nothing was making any difference. "It's too late," she whispered, but she continued to work frantically. The pod shook under her fingers as the Kharakid inside shook uncontrollably – he was now a writhing, chaotic mass of flesh, skeletal shapes and pumping organs on the outside of 'his' body. A twisted, claw-like hand tore at the space inside, and a scream came from a bleeding mouth that could be heard outside the pod. Miirna gasped and stepped back as the pod split open.

"Did you save him?" a voice asked from behind.

It was one of her nurses.

Miirna's voice was unsteady. "What we dug out…didn't live long. Fortunately."

How many more deaths this day? she asked herself. How many more must die at the hands of the alien forces, directly or indirectly? The cryo-trays were full of civilians. They didn't know about the mothership. They were just looking to start a new life in freedom.

How many more people will we lose in the journey ahead?

"Doctor Sjet! We have another one!"

She went back to work.

*                      *                      *