Chapter 70: Home Clinic

Tessa slapped her handwritten research ledger onto the examination table, glaring at her bleeding brother as he crossed the clinic threshold.

"Sit down in that chair before you pass out on Richter’s floor," she snapped, pointing an ink-stained finger toward the corner seat.

Leo lowered his frame into the chair without arguing, feeling his fractured ribs protest as he rested his aching back against the cushions.

"I can stand," he muttered, watching blood seep from his sleeve and drip onto the floor beside his feet.

"You can sit and stop bleeding on our clean supplies," she replied, pressing a sterile gauze pad against the gash along his forearm.

The sharp scent of antiseptic burned in the air, clashing with the bitter stench of canal water and scorched armor drifting from his clothes.

Tessa tightened the pressure bandage around his arm with practiced precision, refusing to look him in the eye until the dressing held firm.

"Your ribs are cracked on the right side," she whispered, her hands pressing firmly against his bruised torso.

"A corporate clone landed a clean hit," he admitted, gritting his teeth against the sudden sharp ache.

"Then stop picking fights with whole corporations," she replied with a dry scoff, wrapping a wide support brace around his chest.

Richter stood near the medicine cabinet with an unlit cigar between his teeth, reviewing the chemical readouts on his monitor with a grim scowl.

"She is right," Richter grunted, tapping a diagnostic slide. "That airborne compound is already turning shelter wards black from the inside out."

"I recognized the synthetic catalyst from my academy toxicology coursework," Tessa said, turning toward Rhodes with a tray of measured reagent vials. "It is a modified Vorn respiratory binder, designed to latch onto active ether pathways and suffocate the host."

Rhodes leaned against a storage crate with his strapped arm trembling, studying the molecular diagrams with his single functional hand.

"If we invert the reagent binding sequence, my field replicator can synthesize twenty doses every three minutes," Rhodes confirmed, punching coordinates into his console.

"Then start the synthesis cycle," Leo said, holding the gauze against his arm while watching the crowded floor behind them.

"We need clean catalyst base," Rhodes warned, adjusting the intake valves on the bulky machine with his good shoulder. "Without steady power, this unit will jam on the fourth cycle."

Luna moved between the crowded rows of floor mats, channeling soothing emerald warmth into the failing lungs of two poisoned dock workers.

The clinic basement was packed with wounded civilians and rescued healers, their shallow breathing filling the subterranean room with desperate wheezing.

Luna stepped into the center of the crowded ward, raising her trembling palms as pure desire to protect the room surged through her chest.

Green-gold light erupted from her fingertips, expanding into a radiant dome that washed across forty-two poisoned bodies in a single wave.

Black mist poured from the coughing patients’ mouths, dissolving into radiant vapor as the mass-purge broke the alien toxin’s grip on their lungs.

Chests expanded with sudden relief as the constriction faded, filling the crowded basement with the sound of forty-two deep, clean inhalations.

Luna held the healing dome steady until the last trace of dark mist dissipated into the humid basement air.

[ Reciprocal Bloom ]

[ Partner: Luna ]

[ Want: High | Keep This Room Alive ]

[ Partner Surge: Mass-Purge Aura (75% Bloom) ]

[ Host Surge: Healer’s Devotion Peak ]

[ Note: Life Domain Remain Locked ]

An elderly dock worker looked up from his mat toward Leo with tearful gratitude, but the system interface remained quiet beneath the gaze.

Desire was the engine of his system, not civilian relief or passive worship, leaving the burden of the room on Luna’s shoulders.

Luna swayed on her feet as a thin line of red trickled from her nose, her core ether reserves dipping toward total exhaustion.

Tessa caught her shoulder and guided her toward a low stool, handing a capped vial of synthesized antitoxin to the trembling healer.

"Drink this and rest," Tessa said softly, wiping the blood from Luna’s lip with a clean towel. "You carried this room long enough."

"The replicator batch is stable," Rhodes announced, stacking filled ampoules into a transport crate for the outer volunteer runners.

Richter checked the clarity of the first ampoule against a desk lamp, nodding in approval before stamping the batch seal on the crate.

Toby stepped through the waiting room curtain, taking the first crate with nervous hands to distribute among the civilians huddled in the entryway.

"People are lining up across the alley," Toby reported, his voice cracking as he lifted the crate against his chest. "Word got out that Richter has a cure."

"Tell them to stay orderly and keep the street clear," Richter ordered, puffing on his cold cigar. "We cannot treat a riot."

"The dock crews are organizing defensive barricades along the main bridge," Toby added, wiping grease from his forehead.

Bekka slammed the locking bar across the street door, securing the ground entrance while listening to the distant drone of corporate sirens.

"The ground entrance is secured," Bekka reported, wiping sweat from her brow as her scorched gauntlets rested at her hips. "Nothing is getting past that bar."

Sierra remained perched along the upper stairwell, watching the perimeter through the ventilation grates with her daggers resting in their sheaths.

"Corporate patrols are pulling back from the bridges," Sierra called down into the basement. "They are clearing the kill zones for orbital drops."

Leo rose from his chair and crossed the room toward Luna, crouching beside her stool as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

He placed his hand against the nape of her neck and kissed her lips, tasting the bitter copper of blood and sweet green-gold ether.

She leaned into his mouth with a quiet sigh, drawing steady reassurance from his presence before resting her forehead against his shoulder.

"You smell like smoke and burnt plating," she murmured, her eyelids fluttering as she rested her weight against his chest.

"You smell like green-gold," he answered gently, holding her steady until her ragged breathing slowed to a peaceful rhythm.

Tessa watched them from the preparation table without speaking, turning back to her ledger to record the next batch of chemical ratios.

A violent concussion slammed through the canal bedrock, shaking the clinic walls and rattling every vial across the counter.

Three orbital retrieval harpoons pierced the murky canal waters outside, vibrating the district’s foundation like spikes driven into bone.

Water surged through the subterranean drainage grates, splashing across the floor while emergency sirens began wailing across the docks.

The shockwave threw plaster dust down from the ceiling rafters, startling the recovering patients as the foundations groaned under the strain.

"Those impacts hit the canal," Bekka said, her eyes snapping toward the vibration humming through the floor beneath their feet.

"They did not come to bomb us," Leo said, his hand dropping to the scabbard at his side. "They came to take back what we took."

Outside the barred clinic door, the murky water of the canal began to boil around the three sunken orbital harpoons.

Cold steam rose from the canal surface as the harpoon mechanisms activated, signaling the arrival of the vanguard extraction units.