You've been trained by one of the major core corporations in advanced medical procedures and emergency care. Whether through SAROS rescue operations, CONFED military medicine, or corporate medical programs, you've received formal training that sets you apart from frontier medics.
Your corporate backing means access to better equipment and training, but it also comes with protocols, paperwork, and corporate expectations. You know advanced medical techniques and have experience with the sophisticated medical technology used in the galactic core.
Pick one of the following skills to boost based on your characters history.
An advanced medical kit provided by your core corporation, featuring cutting-edge diagnostic tools and treatment options far superior to standard field kits.
Official corporate medical credentials that grant you access to medical facilities and resources across core space, and carry weight with authorities.
A corporate emergency beacon that can summon backup, evacuation, or additional medical support when activated.
SAROS Trauma Module 6, day one: the instructor opened a cryo-casket containing what used to be a mining supervisor and said "fix this." Four hours, two litres of synthetic blood, and a tension pneumothorax later, the supervisor was stable and you were shaking in a supply closet. Corporate med-school doesn't teach you gently.
The thing about being trained by a core corp is the supply chain follows you. Flash your SAROS credentials at any licensed med-bay and they'll open the restricted cabinet. The supplies aren't free. They're pre-paid, in years of service you still owe.
Corporate medicine runs on protocol the way engines run on fuel. You know the triage flowcharts, the cross-contamination procedures, the reporting requirements for every pathogen classification. The manual was written in other people's mistakes, and you'd rather be boring than wrong.
Mass casualty training: thirty simulated patients, four medics, twelve minutes, and a scoring algorithm that punished you harder for treating the wrong patient first than for losing one entirely. You learned to look at a room full of bleeding, screaming people and sort them by who dies next if you don't move now. It's the coldest math you'll ever do.