Sadaf Asadi felt the course change from her quarters. It wasn’t a large shift, due in no small part to Polk’s excellent piloting skills. In fact, all she felt was a slight drift as the ship's inertial dampeners had a momentary hiccup, corrected in milliseconds. Her curiosity piqued, she glanced at the clock in her quarters. She still had about an hour before her shift, but it never hurt to squeeze in some extra time at the bridge. Besides, she wanted to know what was interesting enough to pull them away from their patrol. It wouldn’t take much, she admitted.

After saying her morning prayers and making sure her hijab was secure on her head, she smoothed the creases out of her navy-blue uniform and headed for the bridge. The ship seemed its own organism, all systems humming with their own collective rhythm as crewmen strode from one station to another like agitated bees.

Within a few minutes she reached the bridge. As usual, she struck an academy-perfect salute upon entering, only to be dismissed by Casillo almost immediately. He could be stubborn when he chose, Asadi knew, but he didn’t have time for formalities when there was work to do.

“You’re early,” he commented once Asadi took her station.

“Why the course change?” she asked looking over the panel to make sure nothing had exploded since she was last at the conn. In response, Casillo sent a video clip for her to watch on her console. It was short, but the mission involved made her jittery with excitement. An uncharted planet? An unknown signal? Her day had become a lot more interesting.

“Helm, give me an ETA,” the captain said, leaning back in his chair in a vain attempt to appear relaxed. While it may have fooled the rest of the bridge crew, Asadi could see the telltale tense shoulders and stiff legs that indicated his excitement.

“Ninety minutes sir,” Polk replied, stretching back in his seat like a cat in sunlight. Asadi raised an eyebrow, but subsided as she watched the helmsman make a course adjustment mid-stretch, his hands dancing across the console to dodge an icy blue comet.

“Very good,” Casillo said, settling back into his seat. Then his expression changed to a look of surprise, his shoulders tensed off, and the captain let out a hacking cough that sounded like a hurricane. That cough turned into two, then three, then four; by the fifth Asadi’s sides were aching with sympathy. As he lowered his face from his elbow, the captain’s expression changed yet again; he smacked his lips, then stood up out of his chair.

“I’ll…be in my quarters,” he said, the lie in his voice apparent to Asadi but probably no one else. “Commander, you have the conn.”

As Asadi strode towards the captain’s chair, she noticed the problem. On Casillo’s otherwise-spotless uniform, she saw several velvety splotches on the sleeve he’d coughed into. Blood. Asadi raised her eyebrows, a look that the captain dismissed with a glance. Not worth worrying the crew, that look said.

Well, Asadi thought as she sat down in the uncomfortable steel chair, it was certainly enough to worry her. After glancing over the myriad of multicolored buttons on the chair’s armrests, she glanced around the bridge, unsure what to do.

“ETA, Mister Polk?” she asked, glancing at the viewscreen. She could never get over the view from the bridge, with stars passing them like fireflies and the occasional nebula to light up the sky in brilliant shades of blue or pink.

“Eighty-seven minutes Commander,” Polk replied with a tight smile. Realizing her mistake, Asadi pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded.

“Of course, Mister Polk,” she admitted, allowing herself a guilty smirk. “I’m just anxious to get there. We need to figure out what’s on that planet, and why they sent us a message.”

Although, she reflected, it wouldn’t hurt to have the captain at the helm.