The next morning arrived far too quickly for Shae’s liking.
Not because she was tired.
Not because her side hurt.
Though admittedly, it did.
No, the real problem was that she had voluntarily agreed to a list of consequences created by Colonel Cassandra Blackwell.
And now those consequences were beginning.
One by one.
Like a tactical operation designed specifically to annoy her.
Medical came first.
The nurses checked the wound.
Confirmed the stitches were holding.
Confirmed there was no infection.
Confirmed that, despite her best efforts, Shae was actually healing properly.
The report was uploaded to her file.
And then she was dismissed.
Which meant there was only one thing left.
Her morning briefing.
A few minutes later, Shae stood outside Cassandra’s office.
She knocked twice.
“Come in.” The familiar voice carried through the door.
Shae stepped inside.
Cassandra was already working.
Of course she was.
Several holo-displays floated around the room.
Fleet movements.
Supply projections.
Personnel reports.
Tactical analyses.
The Colonel barely looked up initially.
Then she realized who had entered.
And immediately set aside the report she was reading.
“Major Carter.” “Ma’am.” Shae stepped forward and handed over a datapad.
“My report.” Cassandra accepted it.
Glanced through it quickly.
A very thorough report.
Concise.
Organized.
Efficient.
Exactly what she’d expected.
Not that she intended to tell Shae that.
The woman was already difficult enough.
After finishing the report, Cassandra set it aside.
“Good.” Shae blinked.
That was suspiciously easy.
Then Cassandra pointed toward the chair near her desk.
“Come here.” There it was.
The catch.
“What for?” Cassandra gave her a look.
“A question you already know the answer to.” Shae sighed.
“You just got my medical report.” “Correct.” “I just came from medical.” “Correct.” “They already examined the wound.” “Correct.” Shae spread her hands.
“Then why are we doing this?” For a brief moment, Cassandra simply stared at her.
Then she slowly pinched the bridge of her nose.
The gesture somehow communicated years of accumulated frustration.
“Major.” “Yes, ma’am?” “Are you refusing a direct order?” Shae immediately straightened.
“No.” “Good.” “Merely questioning the efficiency of redundant procedures.” “That’s a very creative way to describe arguing.” “I wasn’t arguing.” “You were.” “I was discussing.” “Major.” “Ma’am.” The stare continued.
Eventually Shae sighed dramatically.
Again.
“You know, most people don’t enjoy proving themselves right this much.” Cassandra didn’t even look up from her desk.
“Most people don’t reopen stitches less than an hour after receiving them.” That ended the conversation.
Grumbling quietly under her breath, Shae crossed the office.
She stopped beside Cassandra’s desk.
“There.” “There?” “There.” Cassandra looked up.
Unimpressed.
“Sit down.” Shae sat.
“Lift your shirt.” “You really don’t trust me.” “No.” The answer came immediately.
Without hesitation.
Without apology.
Shae looked offended.
“That was incredibly direct.” “It was also true.” Reluctantly, Shae lifted the edge of her shirt enough to expose the bandaged wound.
Cassandra leaned closer.
Professional focus immediately replacing irritation.
Her fingers carefully checked the edges of the dressing.
Examining the healing process.
Looking for inflammation.
Separation.
Any indication that Shae had somehow managed to injure herself again during the twelve hours she’d been unsupervised.
Which, frankly, felt entirely possible.
“Does it hurt?” Shae looked thoughtful.
“A little.” Cassandra looked up.
Immediately suspicious.
Because “a little” coming from Shae could mean almost anything.
“Translate.” “What?” “Translate.” A pause.
Then: “Maybe a six.” Cassandra closed her eyes.
Briefly.
Because, of course.
For most people, a six would qualify as substantial pain.
For Shae, apparently, it was worth mentioning only when directly asked.
When Cassandra finished the examination, she sat back.
The wound was healing.
Properly.
No new damage.
No obvious complications.
Which was a relief she had no intention of admitting.
“Looks good.” Shae smiled.
“There.” “What?” “The world didn’t end.” Cassandra rolled her eyes.
“It was one examination.” “It was a redundant examination.” “It was a necessary examination.” “Debatable.” “Not debatable.” Shae grinned.
The expression transformed her entire face.
Far more than she probably realized.
Unfortunately, Cassandra noticed.
And immediately looked back down at her datapad.
A suspicious silence followed.
Then Shae spoke.
“You know…” Cassandra already disliked that tone.
“What?” “You seem unusually invested in these stitches.” The room became very quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
Cassandra slowly looked up.
The expression on her face suggested Shae was venturing into hazardous territory.
“You’re an officer under my command.” “That’s the official answer.” “It is the answer.” Shae’s smile widened.
Which somehow made Cassandra even more suspicious.
“Uh huh.” “Major.” “Ma’am.” For several seconds they simply looked at each other.
Then Cassandra pointed toward the door.
“Get out of my office.” Shae laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound warm and genuine.
Then she stood.
“Yes, ma’am.” As she reached the door, Cassandra called after her.
“Major.” Shae paused.
Turned.
“Yes?” “Try not to get stabbed today.” A grin immediately appeared.
“No promises.” “That wasn’t a joke.” “It wasn’t funny enough to be one.” “Out.” Shae slipped through the door before Cassandra could invent additional consequences.
The door closed behind her.
Leaving Cassandra alone.
Again.
And despite herself, a faint smile appeared before she buried herself back in her work.
Only to realize several seconds later that she was still smiling.
Which was deeply inconvenient.