Jean and Logan raced down the corridor of the outpost dormitory wing. Logan’s feet kept a rhythmic pattern. Jean was pounding the metal grating with all her might to pick up speed.

“What is the emergency?” Logan asked in that flat tone of his. Jean had grown accustomed to the lack of emotion in his voice, but hated it nonetheless.

“Just keep up!” Jean yelled back over her shoulder. There was little time.

They came to an open courtyard of concrete and metal. A crowd had gathered in the center. The pair rushed through and parted the assembled group. In the center, lying on the cold floor was Jean’s mother. She was doubled over in some manner of anguish. Logan was unmoved.

“This is your mother,” he said.

“Yes!” Jean screamed. Her face was wet. “Fix her!”

Logan finally understood why Jean was in such a hurry. Her mother was in pain, and needed help. But it wasn’t that easy.

“It does not work that way,” he said.

“Can’t you fix her?!” Jean asked.

“I cannot,” Logan said. “It does not work that way.”