“It’s nothing,” Mellasitox hissed at the young medic who knelt before her. His round face was covered with dark soot and no small amount of blood, dripping down from a patchy red handprint dragged across his forehead from the back of his hand. “Go attend to someone else.”

“Captain, you’re bleeding quite heavily.” He reached out again with a long white bandage but was batted away by the woman’s twig-like arms.

“Billy…” Sehgali began, her tone buzzing with concern.

“Go,” Mellasitox growled, sending the stout human scurrying after pushing the unfurling bandage into the captain’s hand.

Sehgali plucked the fabric roll and began stuffing it under the Captain’s vest, all sense of their performative decorum flushed out the airlock. Mellasitox began to fuss as she pulled aside her jacket, but the older woman was nimble and had already pulled the bloody material out of the way. The captain hissed as she put pressure on the wound, the stinging soothed only by the thought of the earful she would give Sehgali later about their agreement to keep things professional on the bridge.

The ship shuddered and quaked as a stray bolt nipped the heels of the starboard nacelle.

Assuming there was a later. Mellasitox thought grimly. To think, less than twelve hours ago, the two women had been wrapped in each other’s arms, illuminated by dozens of candles Sehgali had replicated to surprise her. Now, she was holding her body together as well as her heart.

“Damage Report Bale.”

Only silence and the steady shudder of Commander Sehgali’s breath answered.

Mellasitox had already turned towards the operations console at the rear of the bridge before she remembered the jubilant operations chief was no longer present. A large black blast mark blanketed the wall console, its flickering surface barely scratching through the dark, sooty reminder of the earlier explosion.

“Eddie,” Mellasitox whispered. For a moment, she expected to see the familiar blue mess of hair appear from behind the console, the young woman having been occupied fiddling with something beneath the deck plate. But the moment never came, and no one ever appeared in the dimly lit corner.

“She’s in sickbay, Malax is working on her,” Sehgali answered back quietly, with a well-concealed quiver of anxiety. With one arm, she lifted the captain’s paltry bicep over her shoulders and began diligently mopping up the thick red blood that was spilling from her side in slow, throbbing pulses. “The medic was right, this is bad.”

Another impact of weapons fire scraping across the aft hull caused Mellasitox to flinch, buffeting her to fall and strike against Sehgali’s cheek, leaving a long red gash upon her dark skin. To her credit, the impact didn’t seem to faze the woman, but love was a strong distraction.

Nothing had ever fazed her it seemed, it was one of many fine qualities that had drawn Mellasitox in. That and her unending kindness of heart, showcased one day when a wide-eyed young lieutenant, too anxious about her duties to make it to the mess hall, had been passed a pink pastry across the desk by an eternally smiling woman who kept her mother’s teachings in her pocket. Teachings that would prove to be a perfect accompaniment for whispered futures in the dark shadows of hidden rendezvous.

“Somebody, report!” Mellasitox shouted over the rumble of another weapons strike.

“Shields are down to eleven percent,” Encore replied from tactical. “The enemy are getting fatigued, their shots are getting more and more inaccurate.”

“They aren’t the only ones, I’m detecting fractures in the nacelle struts and the starboard hull members,” Maksha added from science, where he had taken over the operations duties.

The lights flickered as an omnipresent screech wailed from the ship. Four against one had been tough odds when they had leapt into battle; they had taken two of the craft off the board, but Daedalus was fast approaching its limit. And the victories hadn’t been without cost.

“Impulse engines are burning way too hot, fusion generator is in the red zone,” Njola announced, sparing a moment of attention that quickly fell back into the helm. The slight pressure of her fingers translating to acrobatic barrel rolls and flips in the debris-filled combat zone.

“We need to consider retreat.” Sehgali buzzed as she put more pressure on the captain’s side, causing the woman to grimace in pain.

“Careful,” she hissed as pain spidered out from the wound. “What we need is more firepower.”

“From where Billy? We’re alone. No one is going to swoop in and rescue the day, no heroic charge of the Fourth Fleet, no swelling score and triumphant battle horn.”

“There has to be something.”

“There isn’t.” Sehgali met the captain’s eye, her deep brown oceans, which normally brought Mellasitox such comfort in the candlelight, wore an unusual and unwelcome costume; fear.

“Forgive me ma’ams, but I believe there is.” Encore interrupted hesitantly from their tactical den at the rear of the bridge. “K-74 is damaged, but some of its defence satellites are operational; we could repurpose the weapons systems.”

“Not from here.” Sehgali chided dismissively.

“No, we would have to board the station and make a direct interface.”

“Transporters aren’t an option.” The ship whined with a painful squeal as a polaron beam hit its mark, emphasising Sehgali’s point. “We can’t drop shields for long enough.”

“We have Icarus.” Encore reminded the pair grimly. “Theta Squad could make it across.”

“You want to launch a runabout into that?!” Sehgali threw an outstretched arm to the viewscreen where two red icons chased after the blue form of Daedalus across a battlemap, weaving through the myriad of grey shapes that signified the floating debris.

“We could pass close to the station and drop the boat, then draw the attackers away whilst they boarded.” Encore manipulated the console blindly with one hand, their large yellow eyes, reaching across the bridge alongside the desperate idea.

“Shields are at five percent,” Maksha announced to the room.

“I am begging you captain, don’t send them in there,” Sehgali begged with a hoarse voice. “I’m begging you, don’t send them to their deaths.”

“There is a chance they’ll make it.”

“They will be shot out of the sky.”

“They will have our protection.” Mellasitox could feel her blood beginning to boil, almost hot enough to stem the wound at her side. The woman’s passion was crossing the imaginary line of their agreement.

“Our protection isn’t even enough for us!”

“We have a duty.”

“How much do we have to lose for your precious duty?” Sehgali’s eyes darted to the empty operations station.

“We all know the risks.” Mellasitox reminded her, allowing the meagre comfort to fall to the deck alongside the empty words.

“The woman I love, would never-” Sehgali began, but Mellasitox cut her off with a sharp look.

The bridge fell silent, even the weapons fire seemed to abate, the couples argument seemingly reaching across the void to touch the ears of their relentless persuers.

For a heart-achingly long moment, the candlelight of their whispered romance flickered and sputtered. They had always struggled with dancing the fine line between their romance and their responsibility, but the rule had always been simple. Captain Mellasitox and Commander Sehgali were separate people from Billy and Indira. But the last few weeks had pushed the boundaries with stolen glances and hurried caresses in corridors. Perhaps they had both allowed things to get out of hand.

Sehgali’s lips parted with a silent entreaty.

In the darkness of the Captain’s quarters, the candle wavered and then, with a silent breath, was gone.

“Have Theta Squad get ready to drop, Njola prepare a wide arc around the station’s dorsal side, we’re aiming for the emergency airlock on deck six.” Mellasitox instructed the room, her focus pushing past the wounded face of Sehgali and back to the tactical map on the viewscreen.

Sehgali slid the captain’s jacket back down over her side, having secured the bandage in place.

“You’ll need someone to lead the team,” she muttered darkly as she stood, taming her wild cloud of dark hair back with a forceful tug.

“Indira, I can’t-” Mellasitox gasped at the sudden realisation of their loss, the first victim of her inenviable choice.

“If you can ask them to go, you can ask me.” The cloak of fear had fallen away from Sehgali’s eyes, replaced with something cold and wounded. “It’s my duty.”

“Indira-”

“Encore, inform Theta Squad I’m on my way.”

Without another word, Commander Indira Sehgali was gone, along with all hope for their whispered promises, drowning in the darkness of dead candles.