My breath lodges in my throat. I stare down at the knife. It sticks out of the wall inches from my abdomen. Adrenaline surges, anger, fury, rage, all of it boils to the surface. I shove Sarka, a low growl, from deep in my throat, escapes through gritted teeth. I knock him onto the bed giving him what I hope is a deadly stare. Based on the smirk curling the edges of his lips and my heavy breathing, I somehow doubt it.

I run a hand over my face, trying to calm down. I turn back and tug the knife from the wall. My hand shakes as I grip the handle, my fingers tingle.

"Don't pull a weapon unless you intend to use it."

How can he be so calm? I'm about ready to burst through my skin. "You made your point." I fumble the knife back into its sheath and take a moment to compose myself. I have nothing to focus on except the plain desk jutting from the wall. I use a breathing exercise, taught to me by Kate, the woman who took me in after my mom died. I haven't had to use it in years. Now there are two people in my life who drive me mental enough to need diaphragmatic breathing.

"Jordan, I'd never intentionally hurt you."

"You couldn't if you tried," I hiss and storm out of his cabin.

•••

I spend the rest of the week overseeing repairs and readying the ship for our exploration of this galaxy. Any initial trepidation gives way to excitement. This is a chance to see what's out there. We're actually going to discover something new. After a millennia of hiding out in our own galaxy, never venturing further than our own solar system.

As I walk the decks, running my fingers along new panels, I'm gripped by a sudden surge of pride. She isn't much, the Persephone, but she's got spunk. In a few more days we should be ready to launch.

The only thing left is the outside repairs to the hull near the breach. I don't want to leave on such an unknown mission without having the ship one hundred per cent ready.

I'm in the mess the day before we launch. Meals don't feel the same without Ash. Even Hartley, who hasn't stopped talking the whole time, can't keep my mind off her. I blink and look up at him when I notice the quiet. He's stopped talking.

"What?" I ask.

"Didn't you hear the intercom?"

I cock my head, even though there's nothing coming over the speaker. "No. Was it for me?"

He shovels spaghetti into his mouth and speaks around the noodles dangling from between his teeth. "The doctor wants you to report to the med centre." A glob of tomato sauce rolls down his chin as he sucks up the noodles.

"Dammit." I jump up and dump my food, shoving the tray in a stack near the door and rush out.

My first thought is Sarka. When I enter, Yakovich is lounging on one of the beds, confirming this thought. Her legs hang over the edge, swinging like a pendulum. Her shoulder is wrapped in a white bandage. The tattoos from her neck are visible now. They run from the nape of her neck all the way down her shoulder to her back and branch out along her arm. It's clear what she spent most of her wealth on. Body art. The bandage is obscuring a hawk. Its wings span her back, the beak and head angle along her other shoulder. The detail and shading is astounding. She must have had it done on Alpha. That's not something you'd get on one of the mining ships, or even one of the mining cities on Epsilon.

"What happened?" I ask. My eyes scan for any other damage, but she appears fine otherwise.

She leans back, but stops and sits up again when the movement puts pressure on her shoulder. "Wrestling match didn't quite go my way. I'll be fine, Captain. It's a scratch."

"Wrestling is with hands, not sharp pointy objects," says Dr. Len Prashad. He lifts a tablet from the counter and thumbs through her chart. The top of his dark brown scalp peeks through the hair at the top of his head. There's a lot more grey now.

I look over and see Ash sitting on a similar bed next to the doctor and my heart lurches. This is the first time we've been face to face since Sarka pulled her out of my cabin. And then the shame hits me full force. Shame that I never had the nerve to visit her, shame at what she said to Hartley.

Instead of dealing with it, head on, I turn back to Yakovich. "I thought Sarka..."

She shakes her head. "He's been as quiet as a cucumber." She hops off the bed, careful of her shoulder. "Am I good to go, Doc?"

Dr. Prashad waves her off. "Stay away from sharp objects for the next couple of days. And it's as cold as a cucumber, not quiet."

"As far as I remember, cucumbers don't make noises." She smirks and ambles away, turning back to gaze at Ash. "Take care, Ash." She nods at me as she passes. "Captain."

When I first met him, I didn't think much of the short opinionated man. That changed real quick the first time I had to go see him. Back then, I was only a second lieutenant, helming on a small cutter. And as the doctor put it, I'd bitten off more than I could chew. I was dating this woman in botany, who among other things, was running me ragged with her stamina. One night she had the idea of sneaking into the hydroponics hold where they grew the wheat grass. It turns out I'm allergic to wheat grass. I'm indebted to Dr. Prashad for his discretion, even if it did come with unsolicited advice.

Ash is in uniform pants and a tank-top, her tunic folded over the table beside her. She's no longer wearing the brace, but her arms are still covered in grafting bandages. There are less of them, but they plaster the majority of her body. Her skin is so pale the freckles on her face stand out, making her appear younger and very vulnerable.

"Is she fit for duty?" I ask Dr. Prashad.

"I'm fine."

I stare at the doctor, knowing Ash's version of fine and mine aren't the same in the least. Even if she'd lost a hand, she'd still say she was fine.

"I don't want her on any space walks until the grafts are healed, but I'm clearing her for light duties." He hands me the tablet with her workup. I scroll through trying, and failing, to stay neutral. But seeing it here, her injuries stacked in list form, is overwhelming.

"What are light duties? The grafts aren't going to give her any problems are they?"

"Despite my injuries, sudden deafness wasn't one of them. I'm right here, you can talk to me, you know." She glares up at me from the exam bed, her is face flushed. It happens often. Always a good indicator when she's mad. Those green eyes flash dark which means she's ready for a fight.

"You want to tone down that attitude, Lieutenant?"

Her shoulders slump but her eyes stay hard. "I'm sorry, Captain." She sighs and looks down at her stilled legs. "I don't think I can take another day sitting around doing nothing." Classic Ash. I swear they invented the motto 'it's easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission' for Ash. Her stance is already to beg forgiveness but I'm not falling it for it this time. Those eyes are still on fire.

I touch Dr. Prashad's arm, stealing his attention from a set of test results in his hand. "Can you give us a moment?" Startled, he looks around the empty med centre and frowns.

Sarka was right. A humiliating thought. My commands are more like requests.

I raise my eyebrows in question when he still doesn't move. He makes a big show of taking his time. He purses his lips. He huffs. He unhooks the sensors covering Ash's upper chest, then leaves.

Christ. Am I that lax? Or did it start to unravel with Ash?

Once we're alone, I retreat to the counter, a few feet away, and lean against it. This is the first time we've been alone since my cabin. A million and one emotions slice through me. I want to explain to her how different it has to be. I want to scream at her for being reckless and scaring me to death. And at the same time I want to close the space between us and soothe the pain I see in her eyes. But I resist those things. Instead, I fold my arms across my chest and say, "I'm still your commanding officer."

"I don't appreciate being ignored." She's quiet as she says this, I'd almost prefer if she yelled it at me. It would give me a chance to yell back and get rid of some of this pent up energy.

"I wasn't ignoring you. I was asking someone a little more objective about your condition. You'd jump back into work with missing limbs if I let you."

She shakes her head, like I've misunderstood her. "Are you going to let me resume my duties?" The same conflict of emotions is running across her face. She looks equal parts angry and scared and confused. And beautiful. Even with her bandages and bruises, they can't take away from the innate fire deep inside her.

I take a little too long to answer. I'm staring and it makes her self-conscious. She tucks stray hairs into the the band keeping her hair up, trying to tame it. The red is darker in this light and it looks like a small fire has erupted. It's probably been days since she's washed it.

Before I can finally answer her she says, "I promise I'll only work one shift. And I won't over work myself, or the crew. I can't sit around any longer."

"And if I order you to take it easy if you're pushing yourself too hard?"

She grabs her tunic and pulls it on, mindful of the grafting bandages on her arms. My fingers itch to reach out and help her with it, but I don't. "Then I'll pull back."

I snort. "You disobeyed a direct order, two if I remember correctly."

"I was trying to save people's lives."

"It's not up to you to decide that. I'm the captain. I make those choices." I clamp down and take a few calming breaths before I go too far. It would be so easy to let go, for once, and get dark and furious. Usually I have no problem controlling it, but since my father's been on board, it's getting harder. I haven't even dealt with the fact that, she injected me with a drug that knocked me unconscious. "Ash, I need to be able to trust you, and right now, I don't."

She sighs, it effects her whole body, lifting her shoulders like she's readjusting a pack. I know the choices she made were, in her mind, for the greater good. But if I let her get away with disobeying orders, she's going to keep making those choices. I have no idea how to punish her. Usually I add an extra shift or confine them to quarters. If this was any other crew member I would assign them extra guard duty, but I don't want her anywhere near Sarka.

"What do you suggest I do, Ash? I mean, the amount of rules you've broken is staggering. I can't let that go."

She laughs. It's flat and angry. "I'm not the only one who broke rules."

"True. And we can both see why those rules are in place to begin with."

She hops off the bed and stalks toward me. "And I'm the one who gets punished for it?"

And that's all it takes.

It's almost like a dam breaks. I let loose all the worry and frustration and anger I've been holding onto for the last couple of days. I barely stop myself from pushing her back onto the bed. I lean in close enough to smell the laundry detergent on her uniform. "Don't you dare, Ash. Up until now, I've been so lenient with you. I've let you get away with more than I would any other crew member. I stupidly—stupidly thought you were worth the benefit of the doubt."

Ash's face drains of all colour except for two flecks of pink on her cheeks. She pulls away, but stumbles on the bed behind her.

"I told you not to do anything stupid. And instead of listening to me for once, you go and do the opposite by ejecting the engine core. What did you think was going to happen?" My fists clench so hard by my side, my muscles ache from the effort. "And what's worse is that you knew you were going to do it. Even as you were promising me you wouldn't. That whole time I was pouring my heart out, you were thinking, 'What's next?''' I turn away now because I can't look at her any longer. There's so much more I want to say, but some of it is stuff I can never take back. Once it's out in the open...

I take several long breaths and wait for the calm to descend. It doesn't help. I'm still furious at her. More than anything right now, I feel used, like a jackass for letting her play me. She could give two shits about me. All she cares about is herself and it hurts me I didn't see it earlier. No wonder everyone on this ship thinks they can treat me like I'm nothing more than a fellow officer.

It stops now.

I turn back. Ash shoves her fists into her hips. "Two days in the brig then."

"What?"

"That's what you should do to punish me. Put me in the brig for two days." She stares up at me with such challenge behind those fierce eyes.

"I'm not going to put you in the brig, Ash." If I did that, the crew would lose any respect they still had for her. As much as I want to. No. There's only one punishment that'll work. "I'm putting you on medical leave."

Her whole body sinks. "No!"

I hold up my hand to stop any argument. "You have two choices. Take medical leave, stay in your cabin, run on the track, but stay out of the way. Or, if you don't like it, I'll ask the Posterus to keep you and tell them you're not well enough to come. That way, there won't be a mark on your record. And that's being generous."

If I thought she'd paled before, I was wrong. Her whole face has gone deathly white. She knows I mean it. I'm kicking myself for not doing this earlier. Maybe we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. But as I march toward the door a small voice reminds me that we'd all be dead if I had. When I get to the door I say, "You don't have to decide right now." I can't look at her. I'm too sick with emotion. It's all too much. Instead of making me feel better, my outburst has made me feel worse about it all. "But I need to know before we disembark in two days." And then I leave before she has a chance to respond.