Pembroke knew the evaluation had begun before the holodeck doors had finished closing behind him. The compartment waiting on the other side bore no resemblance to a Starfleet medical facility, and whoever had designed the scenario had apparently gone out of their way to remove nearly everything he normally associated with practicing medicine properly. The space was narrow, poorly illuminated, and visibly damaged, with sections of the overhead flickering irregularly while a low vibration ran continuously through the deck. A portable surgical frame rested against one wall beside two field medical cases, neither of which appeared large enough to contain anything he would consider an adequate supply. Three casualties occupied the remaining floor space while a fourth person, apparently unharmed, knelt beside one of them with a rifle across his lap.

Pembroke stopped just inside the doorway and allowed himself several seconds to take in the room before moving farther. "No biobed, no surgical support system, no full diagnostic suite" he observed as his attention moved from the equipment to the casualties. "How refreshingly barbaric." A voice from somewhere overhead informed him that he had exactly what the field team possessed when the casualties occurred. Adrian glanced toward the ceiling and answered that the field team had therefore packed badly, but whoever was observing the evaluation declined to defend their fictional logistics.

That silence was probably deliberate, and Pembroke decided he disliked it almost as much as the equipment.

He crouched beside the nearest casualty first, a Human male wearing an unmarked field uniform, and passed the compact medical scanner across him. The simulation gave Pembroke enough information to establish significant internal trauma and worsening circulatory instability, though the man remained conscious. A second casualty nearby was unconscious but sufficiently stable that immediate intervention could wait. The third had suffered substantial exposure to whatever the simulated facility was leaking into the compartment and would deteriorate rapidly if they remained where they were.

"Doctor, we have thirty-two minutes before extraction. The objective is incomplete" the armed operator said from beside him. Pembroke continued studying the scanner rather than looking up and told him that was fascinating. When the operator explained that the team leader needed to know which casualties could still move, Adrian finally glanced toward him and suggested the team leader was welcome to come ask personally. The man's hesitation told him something before the answer did. The team leader was still securing the objective, which meant Pembroke had been handed the medical consequences while somebody else continued the mission.

"Then apparently he has decided that whatever he is securing is presently more important than his personnel" Pembroke said as he returned to the injured man. "I will endeavor not to take that personally."

The broad purpose of the exercise was obvious enough. They wanted to see how he prioritized casualties without a Sickbay, a surgical team, or enough equipment to make every decision comfortable. Pembroke had spent too much of his career around examinations, however, to trust any test whose answer seemed immediately obvious. He opened the medical cases himself and went through what remained more carefully. Trauma stabilizers, vascular support compounds, analgesics, two doses of Sustain, a compact recovery litter, and just enough surgical equipment to intervene if absolutely necessary. What he did not have was the luxury of treating all three patients as though they were aboard the Rubicon with a fully staffed medical department waiting outside the door.

The overhead system announced that radiation levels were increasing and estimated safe occupancy of the compartment at twenty-four minutes. Pembroke stopped for half a second before looking toward the radiation casualty. "There it is" he murmured, prompting the conscious patient beside him to ask what he meant. Adrian dismissed the question with a quiet assurance that it was nothing the man needed to concern himself with and shifted his attention to the third casualty.

Their condition was worsening, but the immediate problem was environmental rather than surgical. Pembroke looked toward the armed operator and indicated the compact litter. "Get that one outside the contaminated compartment." The operator frowned and reminded him that he was security and had orders to remain there. Pembroke regarded him for a moment before pointing out that if the patient remained in the compartment much longer they would become considerably more difficult to transport, and unless his orders specifically required him to observe a preventable radiation casualty, he should pick up the litter.

The operator seemed to consider arguing, thought better of it, and moved.

Adrian waited until the litter had cleared the compartment before turning his attention back toward the other two casualties. The unconscious patient could still wait. The conscious one could not.

The deck lurched hard enough to force Pembroke to catch himself against the floor, and half the lighting disappeared at once. His medical scanner flickered, recovered, and returned only partial readings while one of the field cases lost power entirely. Adrian stared at the dead indicators for a moment before closing his eyes briefly. "Of course" he said, setting the scanner aside and continuing with what remained rather than wasting time fighting equipment the scenario had plainly decided he no longer deserved.