The hallways of ER had been a display of organised chaos since news had broken about the shuttle craft. SAR were on site now, but any survivors would be brought here for treatment, and Mal Dorden was damned sure they would be ready.
He strode through the crowded corridors, occassionaly moving his massive frame aside to let stretchers and crashcarts pass, until he reached the main section of the ward. They'd moved all non critical patients to other areas of the facility for security. If the President had survived, Mal wasnt about to let him be assasinated as he lay in his hospital.
As he stood and watched, he let his satisfaction show- although as a Brikar this only amounted to a slight upturn on the edge of his slit of a mouth- his people would be ready for whatever SAR brought back, he was sure of it.
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