May 22, 2440 – 10:00:00 AM
K’Rem didn’t waste time. “We have wounded,” he said, voice clipped. “Medical personnel and supplies, but not enough space.”
Matt was already calculating as he turned toward the farm’s inner buildings. “We’ve got standing quarantine protocols. I can’t take you to the hospital that I’d prefer, it’s in a town of one hundred fifty thousand, and they’ve closed the road into town for now. But I’ve got infrastructure and emergency stockpiles. Let’s put them to use.”
He gestured to the nurses stepping forward. “Five-bed clinic here on the property. Amelia and Camila run it, clean, powered, stocked for first aid, with people who can do a lot more. Some of them were combat medics.”
Engines rumbled as more vehicles rolled in, trucks, side-by-sides, a pair of ambulances, and half a dozen farm rigs converted into medical convoys. Dave was already moving to intercept and delegate, clipboard in hand, bullhorn slung over one shoulder.
Matt rattled off the numbers of the closest places without slowing. “Arrow Rock clinic has fourteen beds and two primitive operating rooms. The grade school has a disaster relief setup with one hundred twenty bunk bed and backup power. Empty warehouse space that is ready for conversion and quarantine if needed, overflow if not. We have spoken for twice the time it would take to make use ofo any of these. I have significantly more further out for the less serious cases or those who can wait.”
Dr. T’Monn Th’ron inclined her head, listening to the translation in her ear. “Cautious. Wise. We don’t believe we pose a biological threat, but your pathogens are a concern. We’ll run adaptive sequencing on local strains and develop vaccines for both sides rather quickly.”
Matt blinked. “That would take us weeks, at the very least, many days.”
Her mouth curved faintly. “It will take us hours. One of my genetic-medicine students is already analyzing your air samples.”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “Color me impressed. We’ll set up isolated intake and get you staff support. We’re already staged for multi-site deployment.”
Angelina’s voice crackled over the radio, still in Columbia, but the kids were fine, and she’d be back by nightfall. Matt didn’t reply, but his grip tightened on the handset before he clipped it back to his belt.
T’mari spoke up. “We don’t require housing yet. The ship remains serviceable.”
“Offer still stands,” Matt said. “But I get it, priorities.” He turned back to Dr. Th’ron. “Would your team prefer to quarter near the clinics?”
“Yes. Faster rotation, better oversight.”
Matt recorded a voice memo to the Freehold’s local AI. “Allocate dormitory zones by medical function. Prioritize field teams and triage ops. Separate sleeping and prep areas per CDC and WHO protocols.”
T’Monn stepped closer. “We’ll also need research coordination, your data, our models. If you have people with active bacterial or viral infections, I’d like samples for my team to begin work.”
“Done. You’ll have it.” Matt checked the time. “We’ll also hold three conference sessions today, one for immediate needs, one for formal planning, and one open knowledge exchange. First round starts this afternoon if your people are ready.”
Dr. Th’ron’s eyes glinted, the hint of that small smile again. “They will be.”
Beyond them, Missouri moved, dust rising from incoming convoys, clinic lights snapping on, voices calling orders across the yard. For once, everyone knew exactly what was at stake.
