Cassandra eventually had to leave.
Duty demanded it.
There were meetings to attend, reports to review, officers waiting for decisions only she could make.
Before leaving, however, she stopped beside Shae’s bed one final time.
“You stay here.” Shae rolled her eyes.
“I’m literally attached to half the equipment in this room.” “That has never stopped you before.” “I am offended by how accurate that statement is.” Cassandra wasn’t smiling.
She looked at the attending staff.
“If anything changes, I want to know immediately.” “Yes, Colonel.” “Immediately.” “Of course, ma’am.” Only then did she leave.
The moment the door closed behind her, Shae muttered: “She’s impossible.” A nearby nurse snorted.
“You realize she’s worried about you, right?” Shae frowned.
“She’s annoyed with me.” “Those aren’t mutually exclusive.” The next several hours passed slowly.
Too slowly.
The fever continued to climb.
Shae felt it long before she admitted it.
Her thoughts felt heavier.
Her limbs felt slower.
Even sitting up required more effort than she’d expected.
Still, every time a nurse asked how she felt, her answer remained the same.
“I’m fine.” The nurses had started exchanging looks whenever she said it.
By evening, her condition had worsened enough that the medical team became increasingly concerned.
Her fever was higher.
She was visibly exhausted.
Her vital signs were becoming less stable.
The physicians decided she needed closer monitoring and additional support than the regular medical ward could provide.
Which meant moving her to intensive care.
“I don’t need ICU.” “You do.” “I’m fine.” “You are not.” “I’m sitting upright.” “Major, that’s not the standard.” Shae sighed dramatically.
“This ship is full of people who overreact.” No one agreed with her.
Unfortunately, in the chaos of the transfer, one very important thing didn’t happen.
No one informed Cassandra.
The reminder she’d given the staff hours earlier got lost beneath shift changes, consultations, and paperwork.
Not intentionally.
Just forgotten.
Which was why Cassandra arrived later that evening expecting to find Shae exactly where she’d left her.
Instead she found an empty room.
Her stomach dropped immediately.
The bed was stripped.
The monitors were gone.
The room was vacant.
For a brief moment, her mind supplied several possibilities.
None of them good.
She turned sharply toward the nearest nurse.
“Where is Major Carter?” The nurse blinked.
“Oh.
ICU.” Silence.
Dangerous silence.
“What?” “She was transferred a few hours ago.” Cassandra stared at her.
“A few hours ago.” The nurse’s confidence visibly evaporated.
“Yes, ma’am.” “And nobody informed me.” The realization crossed the nurse’s face.
“Oh.” Ten minutes later, the attending physician was enduring the most uncomfortable conversation of his career.
“I gave explicit instructions.” “Colonel, I—” “I said to notify me of any change.” “Things became busy and—” “I am aware things became busy.” The physician wisely stopped talking.
Because the expression on Cassandra’s face suggested continuing would only worsen the situation.
The moment the conversation ended, Cassandra headed directly for the ICU.
The sight that greeted her immediately stole some of her anger.
Shae looked terrible.
Not catastrophically so.
Not dying.
But undeniably sick.
The difference from earlier was obvious.
The fever had drained the usual vitality from her face.
The stubborn confidence remained.
Everything else looked exhausted.
Cassandra moved directly to the chart.
Reading.
Studying.
Reviewing every update.
The deeper she got into the notes, the less she liked what she was seeing.
The infection was progressing faster than she’d hoped.
Treatment was helping.
But not as quickly as she wanted.
“You look upset.” Shae’s voice pulled her attention away from the chart.
Cassandra looked over.
Shae offered a weak smile.
“It’s just a little fever.” Cassandra slowly lowered the datapad.
“A little fever.” “Yep.” For a moment, Cassandra simply stared at her.
Then she walked closer.
“A little fever,” she repeated.
Shae nodded.
“That’s my professional assessment.” “Your professional assessment is terrible.” Shae laughed weakly.
Then immediately regretted it.
Cassandra sat beside the bed.
“You know what a fever means, Major?” “A body temperature higher than normal?” “Do not test me.” Shae immediately stopped talking.
Cassandra’s voice became quieter.
More serious.
“It means your body is fighting an infection.” Shae’s smile faded slightly.
“It means your system is under stress.” She gestured toward the monitors.
“It means every organ system is working harder than normal.” The room grew quiet.
“And it means that if the infection continues winning, the consequences become increasingly serious.” Shae studied her.
For once, not interrupting.
Not joking.
Just listening.
A long silence followed.
Then Shae asked quietly: “Why do you care so much?” Cassandra frowned.
“What?” “Why?” Shae looked away briefly.
Then back at her.
“I’ve been on your ship three days.” The words hung between them.
“You barely know me.” Another pause.
“Why do you care this much about one soldier?” The question caught Cassandra completely off guard.
Because she’d asked herself the same thing more than once.
And she didn’t particularly like the answers.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked at Shae.
Really looked at her.
At the stubborn officer who refused to quit.
Who argued with medical professionals.
Who ignored pain.
Who somehow managed to be both brilliant and completely infuriating.
Finally Cassandra answered.
“Because you’re my responsibility.” Shae looked unconvinced.
Cassandra continued.
“Every person on this ship is.” “That’s the official answer.” “It is.” Shae waited.
Cassandra looked away briefly.
Then back.
“And because losing good people is unacceptable.” The words came more quietly than she’d intended.
“I’ve spent too much of my career watching talented officers get hurt because they believed they were indestructible.” Shae didn’t speak.
“I don’t care if you’ve been here three days or three years.” Cassandra’s gray eyes held hers.
“If you’re under my command, then your life matters.” The room fell silent.
For the first time all day, Shae had no witty response.
No argument.
No joke.
Just a long look.
And somewhere in that silence, Cassandra realized she’d revealed far more than she’d intended.
Which was deeply inconvenient.
Because judging by the expression on Shae’s face— Shae had noticed.
I hope you’re enjoying so far.
I’m going to try to release 2-3 chapters a day around this time moving forward, just FYI.