Cassie had ducked back into the ship right behind the Twi'lek, moving toward the side that held her own teammates out of some unconscious need to stay with the familiar.
"Cassie," she replied to the Twi'lek's introduction. "Cthulu over there looks OK, but Melor took a shot to the gut. It's still bleeding, probably because it was pulled open during our little sprinting session." She didn't mention her own arm; it didn't hurt as much as before, and the blood seemed to have clotted, but it was plainly clear she had an injury on her left arm that wouldn't have come from bodily fluids being swapped person to person. She glanced from the Twi'lek to the Cerean, and then to the Quarren, leaning into the Twi'lek in an almost conspiratorial manner.
"His name's not really Cthulu, I just don't know--"
"His name is Christo," Melor interjected, grimacing as he held his middle."
"Right, Christo," Cassie added, looking away from Melor and back to Sidara. "Let me know what I can do to help -- I'm not much of a medic, but I can take instruction."
A million questions flitted through her head -- who are you people? Do you know who attacked us? Why were there medical supplies in the crate? Did I just sign up for more than I expected? -- but now wasn't the time. Cassie wanted to remain focused on getting her teammates back together; she didn't know why she kept mentally referring to them as her team when she didn't even know them beyond first names. They'd all met as strangers, hired to do a job. Had everything gone right during the transaction, they would've parted ways with their cash in hand.
At this point, Cassie would be glad to just say goodbye to them as long as it didn't involve going six feet under.