Shae stood alone in the corridor.
One hand rested against her side while she stared down at the growing bloodstain on her shirt.
The situation was not ideal.
Not catastrophic.
Just… inconvenient.
Very inconvenient.
She already knew what Cassandra would say.
In fact, she could practically hear the lecture.
Major Carter, what part of my instructions were unclear?
Shae sighed.
The responsible thing would be to go back to medical.
Immediately.
Without argument.
Without excuses.
Without trying to outsmart a woman who was both her commanding officer and a former physician.
Unfortunately, responsibility and temptation were currently having a fierce battle inside her head.
She glanced toward medical.
Then toward the crew quarters.
Then back toward medical.
A pause.
Another glance toward crew quarters.
“Well…” She tilted her head thoughtfully.
Technically speaking, she knew how to stitch wounds.
Very well, actually.
She had done it before.
More than once.
If she went back to her room… Took care of it herself… Rested for a day or two… Nobody would ever know.
The logic was flawless.
At least according to Shae.
Decision made.
She turned and headed toward the officer quarters.
A few minutes later she reached her door.
The corridor was quiet.
Empty.
Perfect.
Shae pulled out her access card.
The door panel beeped.
She reached toward the controls— And froze.
A familiar voice spoke from around the corner.
“Major Carter.” Shae’s eyes widened.
Oh no.
No no no.
That was the absolute worst voice that could have appeared right now.
Colonel Cassandra Blackwell rounded the corner.
The moment she saw Shae, she slowed.
Then her gaze dropped.
Straight to the bloodstain.
Then back to Shae.
The temperature in the corridor seemed to drop ten degrees.
Cassandra’s jaw tightened.
Her steel-gray eyes hardened immediately.
Shae’s brain began searching desperately for an explanation.
Any explanation.
Unfortunately, it was working under severe stress.
“Ma’am, I can explain—” Cassandra took a step forward.
Shae took one backward.
“Really?” Another step.
“What exactly are you planning to explain?” “Well—” Another step.
Shae found herself retreating until her back touched the door to her quarters.
Not ideal.
Definitely not ideal.
Cassandra stopped in front of her.
“What did I warn you about less than twenty minutes ago?” Shae opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
“It looks worse than it is.” The look Cassandra gave her suggested that was the wrong answer.
“It really does.” “Major.” “It’s just blood from earlier.” Silence.
Complete silence.
Then Cassandra slowly blinked.
Once.
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Shae immediately straightened.
“No.” The answer came so fast it was almost impressive.
“Absolutely not.” “Then why are you lying to me?” “I—” “Major.” Shae wisely stopped talking.
Because she suddenly realized she was losing this battle at an alarming rate.
Cassandra crossed her arms.
“If that blood is from earlier…” Her gaze shifted toward the door.
“…why are you standing outside your quarters instead of reporting to medical?” Shae stared at her.
Cassandra stared back.
The silence stretched.
And then— Cassandra’s expression changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
The realization clicked into place.
Her eyes narrowed further.
“You’re kidding.” Shae immediately looked away.
A terrible sign.
“You were going to re-stitch it yourself.” The statement wasn’t a question.
It was a verdict.
Shae winced.
Very slightly.
Unfortunately, Cassandra saw it.
Every bit of it.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” The Colonel actually looked offended.
As though Shae had personally insulted her.
Which, in a way, she probably had.
After all, Cassandra had given explicit instructions.
Very explicit instructions.
Less than twenty minutes ago.
And somehow Shae had managed to violate them almost immediately.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Finally Shae muttered one quiet word under her breath.
“Shit.” Cassandra looked at her.
Long and hard.
Then nodded once.
“Yeah.” Another pause.
“Shit is right.” Shae closed her eyes.
Because somehow that response was worse than being yelled at.
Much worse.
Especially since Cassandra looked like she was deciding exactly how many consequences she was about to invent.
And judging by that expression… The answer was probably several.