The summons arrived less than ten minutes after the simulation ended.
Most officers would have taken that as a sign to prepare.
To rehearse answers.
To anticipate what Colonel Cassandra Blackwell might ask.
Shae simply acknowledged the message and made her way to the command deck.
The doors slid open.
Conversation stopped.
Not entirely.
Just enough.
The command deck was populated by senior officers, analysts, and tactical specialists, all of whom had spent the last hour watching Major Shae Carter systematically dismantle one of the most difficult simulations aboard the ship.
As Shae entered, more than a few eyes followed her.
Not only because of what she’d just accomplished.
But because she was difficult to ignore.
The deck lighting caught the natural highlights in her brown hair.
Her uniform was slightly disheveled from the simulation exercises, sleeves rolled up, a few strands of hair escaping their tie.
Her mismatched eyes—one blue, one green—swept the room calmly.
She carried herself with effortless confidence.
Not arrogance.
Simply certainty.
And for a brief moment, Cassandra found herself studying her.
The file hadn’t done her justice.
Most personnel records reduced people to statistics and photographs.
They couldn’t capture presence.
Shae possessed the kind of presence that filled a room without demanding attention.
Beautiful, certainly.
Striking enough that most people noticed immediately.
But what interested Cassandra wasn’t just the beauty.
It was the intelligence behind her eyes.
The alertness.
The constant evaluation.
Even now, Cassandra could practically see her processing the room.
Cataloging exits.
Personnel.
Command hierarchy.
Threat assessments.
All within seconds.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
“Major Carter.” Shae came to attention.
“Ma’am.” “At ease.” Shae relaxed immediately.
Not casually.
Professionally.
Cassandra folded her hands behind her back.
“Tell me why you took the elevated walkway immediately after insertion.” The question came without warning.
No preamble.
No congratulations.
A test.
Shae answered instantly.
“The objective was unknown.” A few officers exchanged glances.
Cassandra nodded slightly.
“Continue.” “Without a defined objective, information becomes the priority.
High ground provided visibility, expanded observation angles, and reduced the number of approach vectors available to potential hostiles.” “Most participants seek cover first.” “Most participants assume survival is the primary objective.” A faint flicker appeared in Cassandra’s eyes.
“And you didn’t?” “No, ma’am.” “Why?” “Because simulations rarely test survival.” The room grew quieter.
“They test decision-making.” Several officers looked at one another.
That answer had landed.
Cassandra shifted.
“When additional units were introduced, why didn’t you engage directly?” “They weren’t the threat.” That caught several people off guard.
Even Cassandra raised an eyebrow.
“The armed tactical units weren’t the threat?” “No, ma’am.” “What was?” Shae answered calmly.
“Their communication structure.” Silence.
“The units only became dangerous because they operated as a system.
Eliminating individual operators would have been inefficient.
Disrupting coordination made them vulnerable.” The XO actually leaned back slightly.
Cassandra noticed.
So did everyone else.
Another question.
“When the simulation introduced conflicting objectives?” Shae’s answer was immediate.
“I ignored them.” A few officers looked horrified.
Cassandra looked intrigued.
“You ignored direct mission updates?” “Yes, ma’am.” “Explain.” Shae folded her hands behind her back.
“The objectives contradicted previous mission conditions.” “And?” “That indicated manipulation.” The room was completely silent now.
“The simulation wanted me to react emotionally to changing information.” She paused.
“So I didn’t.” Cassandra stared at her.
The answer wasn’t just correct.
It was exactly what Cassandra herself would have done.
For several moments neither woman spoke.
Then Cassandra asked one final question.
The hardest one.
“If you had failed the mission, what was your contingency?” Most officers expected a discussion of fallback positions.
Alternative routes.
Emergency extraction.
Instead Shae said: “I didn’t have one.” Several heads snapped toward her.
Cassandra narrowed her eyes.
“Explain.” “If I needed a contingency plan, it meant I hadn’t understood the problem.” Silence.
“Once I identified the system governing the battlefield, failure stopped being the primary concern.” A pause.
“The primary concern became solving it correctly.” The room went completely still.
Cassandra regarded her for several long seconds.
Then something happened that none of the officers present had expected.
Something many had never witnessed before.
Cassandra Blackwell smiled.
Very slightly.
But undeniably.
And then she spoke.
“Outstanding work, Major.” The room practically froze.
Several officers looked genuinely shocked.
The XO looked like he wasn’t entirely sure he’d heard correctly.
Praise from Cassandra Blackwell was rare.
Praise this direct was almost unheard of.
Yet there it was.
Clear as day.
“Your analytical performance was exceptional.” Another pause.
“You identified patterns faster than several senior strategists I’ve served with.” The silence somehow deepened.
Because Cassandra wasn’t being polite.
Everyone could hear that.
She meant every word.
To her credit, Shae didn’t look particularly pleased with herself.
Or smug.
Or triumphant.
Instead she simply nodded.
“Thank you, ma’am.” That was it.
No self-congratulation.
No attempt to capitalize on the compliment.
Just professional acknowledgment.
Oddly enough, that impressed Cassandra almost as much as the simulation itself.
Most gifted officers wanted recognition.
Shae seemed indifferent to it.
Then Cassandra noticed something.
A small stain.
Dark.
Near Shae’s right side.
Her eyes narrowed.
“Major.” Shae blinked.
“Ma’am?” “You’re bleeding.” Several officers immediately looked toward her.
Shae glanced down.
“Oh.” The response was so casual it was almost absurd.
“I’m fine.” Cassandra’s expression hardened.
“That’s not what I asked.” “It’s nothing serious.” The Colonel took a single step forward.
Not aggressive.
Not loud.
But unmistakably authoritative.
“Major Carter.” Shae already knew she wasn’t going to win this argument.
Unfortunately, that didn’t stop her from trying.
“It’s just a cut.” Cassandra’s steel-gray eyes narrowed further.
“Show me.” “I’m fine.” “That wasn’t a request.” The deck suddenly became very interested in anything other than the conversation unfolding before them.
After a moment, Shae sighed.
The expression said she knew she had lost.
Slowly, she unfastened part of her tactical jacket and pulled the fabric aside.
The room immediately fell silent.
Completely silent.
Because “cut” had been a spectacular understatement.
A deep laceration ran along her side.
The wound was several inches long.
Blood had soaked through part of the undershirt beneath her uniform.
Judging by the amount of blood, it had been bleeding for quite some time.
Someone swore quietly.
Another officer looked mildly ill.
The XO stared.
“Major…” Shae looked down at it.
“Huh.” The response sounded almost thoughtful.
“I guess that’s deeper than I thought.” Several people actually gaped at her.
Cassandra did not.
But her expression became unreadable.
Dangerously unreadable.
“You completed the entire simulation with that injury.” “Yes, ma’am.” “You never reported it.” “No, ma’am.” “You never requested medical assistance.” “No, ma’am.” A pause.
“Why?” Shae looked genuinely confused by the question.
“The simulation wasn’t over.” The answer hit the room like a hammer.
As though that explained everything.
To Shae, apparently, it did.
Cassandra stared at her.
Then shook her head once.
Not in frustration.
In disbelief.
“Medical bay.” “Ma’am, really, I’m—” “Medical bay.” The tone ended the discussion immediately.
Shae sighed.
“Yes, ma’am.” As she turned to leave, Cassandra watched her go.
Beautiful.
Brilliant.
Disciplined.
Dangerously capable.
And apparently willing to ignore a serious wound if it interfered with completing a mission.
The realization was both impressive and deeply concerning.
Which, Cassandra suspected, was going to become a recurring theme where Major Shae Carter was concerned.