The Medical Bay

The medbay is Concord's idea of minimum viable care on a Class II: one auto-surgeon armature, a cracked surgical table, monitors that still boot, and a cabinet of expired medpatches someone should have inventoried three owners ago. The wireframe scan on the wall assumes human proportions — Talyra doesn't fit the template; she uses the table for others and the herb shelf for herself.

Robotic arms fold from the ceiling on rails — impressive until you hear the grind in joint two. Glass jars line open shelves: dried roots, tinctures, labels in Talyra's hand beside corporate sterile packs that expired last year. A small potted plant on the bench is Talyra's calibration canary — if it yellows, garden air mix is wrong for the whole deck.

Try not to need this room. When bounty work goes loud, it earns its square meters.

Center: inclined surgical table, stained padding, overhead robotic arms — one with surgical lamp, one with claw grip. Right: blue-green monitors — EKG trace, humanoid wireframe scan, control panel, glowing fluid canisters. Left: metal cabinets, wood shelves with glass herb jars, dried specimens, warm desk lamp. Foreground workbench: bowls, bottles, cloth. Grated floor, dark doorway to corridor, industrial pipes.

₡0 idle — power draw rolls into ship life support (₡400/week ship-wide). Per use: medpatch ₡150–₡250, auto-surgeon cycle ₡200–₡600, real port trauma much worse.

Talyra — nurse on call, herbal authority, refuses machine scan for herself. Ivan — first aid under fire, knows where patches hide. Elias — banned from unsupervised surgeon controls; technomage diagnostics on the robot arms when mana allows.