Cassandra stood over Shae as medical staff finally prepared equipment to remove the knife.
Her arms were crossed.
Her expression had settled into something dangerously controlled—the kind of calm that usually meant someone was about to have a very bad day.
She leaned slightly closer to Shae and muttered, “I thought I specifically told you not to get stabbed.” Shae blinked.
Then, despite everything—including the blade still embedded in her leg—she let out a short laugh.
“It wasn’t on my agenda, no.” Cassandra didn’t even glance at her.
“That wasn’t a joke.” “It kind of is though,” Shae said lightly.
“Statistically speaking, I’ve been stabbed less than—” “Don’t finish that sentence.” Shae pressed her lips together, but the smile remained.
Cassandra did not smile back.
Not even slightly.
The attending doctor hovered nearby, clearly trying to work up the nerve to proceed.
“Alright, we’re going to stabilize the area and—” Cassandra turned her head slowly.
“Why hasn’t it been removed yet?” The doctor froze.
“Ma’am, we were just—there’s protocol and we need to ensure we don’t—” “Remove it.” “Yes, ma’am, but—” “Now.” The word was quiet.
Final.
The doctor visibly flinched.
Shae, meanwhile, watched the exchange with mild amusement.
“You know,” she said, tilting her head, “you could just let him do his job.” Cassandra didn’t look at her.
“I am letting him do his job.” A beat.
“He is doing it very slowly.” The doctor finally stepped forward, hands shaking slightly as he prepared to proceed.
“Okay, Major, this may cause—” Before he could finish, Shae reached down, wrapped her fingers around the handle of the training knife— And pulled it out in one smooth motion.
No hesitation.
No flinch.
No dramatic reaction.
Just a quiet exhale as the blade came free.
The room went dead silent.
The doctor’s eyes widened.
Cassandra’s did too.
A drop of blood followed immediately.
Then another.
Shae looked at the knife in her hand.
Shrugged.
“What?” The silence stretched.
The doctor looked like he was reconsidering his entire career path.
Cassandra slowly exhaled through her nose.
“…Of course you did that.” For a moment, even Cassandra couldn’t ignore it.
The wound was bleeding—yes—but Shae’s face barely changed.
A slight tightening of her jaw.
A controlled breath.
That was it.
No collapse.
No shock.
Just awareness.
Cassandra’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…Your pain tolerance is absurd.” Shae gave a faint smile.
“Compliment?” “It is not a compliment.” But there was something in Cassandra’s tone—something reluctant.
Acknowledgment.
Then it vanished almost immediately, replaced by frustration.
“And you are still completely irresponsible.” Shae opened her mouth.
Cassandra cut her off.
“Do not argue with me.” Shae closed it again.
Cassandra stepped forward and grabbed Shae by the arm.
Not roughly.
But firmly enough that there was no question it was an order.
“Come with me.” Shae raised an eyebrow.
“I can walk.” “I didn’t ask.” She led Shae into an adjacent treatment room and sealed the door behind them.
“Sit.” Shae sat.
Cassandra immediately grabbed a medkit and began prepping supplies.
Without looking up she said, flatly, “Pants.” Shae blinked.
“…Excuse me?” Cassandra finally looked at her.
Expression unchanged.
“Remove them.
I need to assess the wound properly.” Shae stared at her.
Then slowly exhaled.
“This is officially the least fun I’ve had on a ship.” “I am not concerned with your enjoyment.” “Noted.” Still, Shae complied, carefully shifting to adjust the uniform pants enough for examination without worsening the injury.
Cassandra moved in immediately.
Gloves on.
Professional focus locked in.
But her voice stayed sharp.
“You were explicitly ordered not to engage in combat training.” “It wasn’t combat training.” Cassandra looked up.
“That was knife defense instruction during a live demonstration.” Shae hesitated.
“…Fair.” “Don’t agree with me like that.” Shae smirked slightly.
Cassandra ignored it.
As she cleaned the wound, her frustration finally broke through.
“You were doing well.” “I was.” “And then you got impatient.” Shae sighed.
“It was inefficient.” “It was controlled training.” “It was slow.” Cassandra pressed a dressing against the wound a little more firmly than necessary.
Shae didn’t react.
Cassandra noticed that too.
Of course she did.
Which only made her more annoyed.
“You are not invincible,” Cassandra said sharply.
Shae glanced at her.
“I didn’t say I was.” “You behave like it.” “That’s not the same thing.” “It leads to the same outcome.” Silence.
Cassandra secured the bandage.
Then stepped back slightly.
Her voice dropped, quieter now—but no less firm.
“If you keep treating injuries like inconveniences, you are going to get seriously hurt.” Shae met her gaze.
For once, she didn’t joke immediately.
“…I’m still here.” “That is not the point.” Cassandra’s eyes hardened again.
“The point is I am responsible for every officer under my command.” A beat.
“And I will not have you ignoring that responsibility because you think you can power through anything.” Shae looked down briefly.
Then back up.
Less playful now.
“Understood.” Cassandra studied her for a long moment.
Then sighed through her nose.
“Good.” Another pause.
Then, quieter: “And you are not leaving medical until I say so.” Shae leaned back slightly.
“That feels familiar.” “It should.” Cassandra finished securing the dressing.
Then straightened.
Her expression softened just slightly—not much, but enough to be noticeable.
“…You’re lucky you heal fast.” Shae tilted her head.
“Lucky?” Cassandra paused.
Then corrected herself, flatly: “Unfortunate for my workload.” Shae let out a short laugh.
And for once, Cassandra didn’t stop her.
She just turned back to her tools.
Already preparing for whatever disaster came next.