list. He was far more involved with damage control on the Human level. At the moment he was busy attending to one woman who was trapped beneath a kiosk that had toppled over. Franklin couldn't know for sure whether it was done as some sort of deliberate attempt to injure her, or if her situation was simply the result of being in the wrong place when the kiosk went down.
Ultimately, it didn't matter. All Franklin was interested in doing was getting her out and to safety. She lay there, moaning, making vague attempts to pull herself free, as if she were operating from within a deep fog.
He could have remained in Medlab, of course. That might very well have been the sensible thing to do. However, most of the injuries that were coming in were banged up security guards, and they weren't staying. He'd seen them staggering out with busted arms, dislocated shoulders, bleeding wounds that Franklin had barely had time to tie off before the guards had charged back out again. He wasn't exactly sure what they were putting in the guards' feed these days, but if it could be bottled and sold galactically, they could all make a fortune.
And most of the civilians had managed to make it back to their quarters. So although there was all manner of insanity going on around the station, the amount of action that medlab was seeing was actually relatively light.
But Franklin knew that people had to be out there, injured and perhaps even dying. And with security stretched to the limit as it was, with the good Samaritans already occupied, Franklin felt it behooved him to go to the source of the problem.
So that was what he had done.
He'd already managed to treat a half dozen people up until that moment, people who had been injured or beaten by roving gangs of lunatics. But he knew