Dolya alerted Thrawn moments before the report came in. He made arrangements to reclaim the retreating scout party and signaled that Dolya should follow him.
Once they were out of earshot of the crew, he said in a low voice, "Our resources are limited, and injuries were reported. Every medkit and every soldier is precious. Can you treat our wounded asset?"
She filled her lungs and thought for a moment before nodding an affirmative.
The pair rushed to meet the scout team who laid their injured comrade, a man named Torvok, on an emergency gurney. Thrawn signaled the medical team to stand down as Dolya approached the hemorrhaging trooper. In Thrawn's calculation, one life was worth learning if this could work.
She asked for help removing the trooper's ankle boot and calf armor.
"Please, Sir," a medic interjected, "He's bleeding heavily."
Thrawn waved him off, but the man wasn't wrong. Dolya ripped part of her red imperial cape that had started to fray to use as a tourniquet to give herself time to work. There were likely devices in the medkit, but she wanted to conserve whatever they could.
She slipped into her trance, trying to ignore the onlookers. She thought of the ways that everyone on board had come together during their crisis. Under Thrawn's guidance, they almost resembled a family.
She found her ideal thought patterns. The trooper's life force was weak, but still present. She felt his injuries and stitched the force through his wounds.