Luckily or unluckily, the door would open once again, not even fifteen minutes later. Then in came another tanned female soldier with a buzzcut. Based on the dirty uniform, she was most likely also working for the woman from before.

But this one was carrying… a medical kit?

Her eyes then met with Guila's, who hadn't moved from her earlier position, then turned to the left, where Ariel supposedly was. Before she turned back to her and walked in.

"... so I'm not even the priority, huh?" Guila could only comment snidely, as her already soiled dress was only just recently even further ruined. "My clothes weren't even changed."

She understood that they were meaningless complaints that wouldn't be heard. But she felt the need to voice them. Even though there was no one here she could be prideful towards.

The soldier, with her brunette hair tied into a short ponytail, kneeled beside her popped shoulder and held it.

"Ahk-! Wai- Eeik!" One could almost say that the fierce jolt of pain brought new life to her, as her expression was now far more lively than before.

It was only then, when she was about to complain again, did Guila notice the soldier's expression. There was a thin, wry smile on her pockmarked face.

"It'll be sore for a few days. Maybe weeks. But we have cooling patches to help with that." She then quickly rummaged through her kit and produced bandages, disinfectants and many more.

"Nngh... You're not going to help me up the bed?"

"I was explicitly ordered not to. You will have to do that on your own." Her tone was curt and flat, like she didn't wish to speak. And yet, she replaced the bandages around her wounded thigh with such gentleness.

"..."

Guila wanted to say thank you, but couldn't even do at least that much. No matter how much she lamented her ego making everything worse, it was a part of her that she just couldn't let go of.

So she let the soldier, or medic, do as she pleased.

That was until it was time for the patches on her head to be changed - as Guila was staring straight at the name on her chest.

'PFC. Corteza'

"Why so gentle, private?" She couldn't help but ask. "Your superior certainly wasn't. Don't you have your qualms with me?"

"That's true." Once again, a curt reply. And yet, her hands didn't stop working. "Everyone in the Federation knows you as the traitor that lost us the war, after all."

"Exactly." Guila then closed her eyes, awaiting further reprisal. Like she wanted it to happen.

Maybe she did.

"But only the veterans actually think like that. So I have nothing against you. It's the opposite, actually."

Needless to say, Guila was dumbfounded. She hoped for a continuation, but the treatment was over and Corteza was quick to retrieve her tools.

However, just as the woman was about to exit the room, she turned back to Guila with another thin, wry smile.

"You'll never hear this from anyone else, but thank you. I'll be back with your meals later. Good luck."

And with that, she was gone. Leaving only Guila, staring back at the floor.

"Good luck, she says…"

She then turned her gaze towards the person behind the curtain. Ariel had been silent all this time, and Guila couldn't even bear to call out to her after her earlier display.

But a hope had been revived in her heart.

"It wasn't a mistake…" She muttered quietly, while tracing the spot where her wedding ring should've been. "I made at least one good choice, didn't I?"

The dying hope that had kept her going until now, was burning anew. So hot and bright did it burn that she felt she could right her mistakes.

And she wanted to start with her biggest one.

"Ariel, I-"

"SHUT UP!"

But the response was quick, hateful, and all too familiar.

"I don't want to hear your voice at all! It's grating on my ears!"

'... right. Of course.'

As childish as the response may have seemed, Guila knew that it was the most hateful, rage-filled reply that the once innocent child could spew out.

She was seen as the most despicable thing possible, and Ariel reflected that back onto her.

To think that one small encouragement could delude her to the point that she could mend their relationship. It's almost like she was just as simple as the child she'd ridiculed so much in her head.

"I'm sorry…"

*** *** ***

"A third of the ship is gone, Serenity is unresponsive and there's no way to contact the bridge or anyone outside. We don't even know if we've stopped moving, yet."

The acting Commander, formerly the head of Internal Security was desperately trying to think of a solution.

Standing on a floating terrace restaurant, overlooking the gathered evacuees down below in B Deck's central plaza, wasn't helping ease the pressure either. There were already at least 20,000 people here. But many more were still coming in, and this wasn't even a tenth of the passengers on this deck alone.

Standing with her in the private restaurant booth that had been turned into their Base of operations, were the remaining Engineering personnel and the head of Internal logistics.

All of whom were bickering with each other on what to do. The sad thing was, these remaining engineers were the ones deemed incapable of helping with the earlier fuel decoupling attempt, and the head of logistics required Serenity to deal with the actual transport and cataloging.

But they were here because there was no one else that she could call upon. Since most of the high-ranking crew were either in or near the bridge when the area was sealed.

So many things had gone horribly wrong, in such a short time. Even now, she was struggling to process it all. They made her Commander, but the Commander still required orders from the Captain. Nor did she possess the training to act as one.

It was only because she was next in line after the First Mate who was with the Captain.

"... damn it all…"

She cursed, and yet, when she glanced at her troops, at the civilians, and even at the bickering group - she pulled out whatever strength she had left in her exhausted body and slammed her fist against the nearest dining table.

"You're engineers, aren't you? Half of you, find a way to pry those blinds open. Just a little bit is enough so that we can confirm our situation. The rest of you, gather any civilians that have a relevant background and try to get back into the bridge. There's plenty of suits and helmets in the Armory."

"Y-yes, Commander!" The most senior of the group answered.

Then, she turned to the Head of Logistics.

"You, I want you and your people to work together with the civilians. Gather any useful supplies. Not just food and water, but beddings and even toys. I need the civilians calm, so supervise those that volunteer. Make sure that the three factions are separated, and they have to get the same things at the same time. Take into account how many of them there are, too. I do not want another war here."

"O-of course. But that'll slow everythi-"

"I know! Figure something out. Now get to it! Erik, lead the way for the engineers. Adam, stick with the Logistics team, along with a squad, just in case."

The two men that had been accompanying her, quickly nodded and went off with the others, leaving the woman by herself in the brightly lit room.

She then fell onto a chair and basked in the peace and quiet, for she knew that it'd be the only respite she'd have for a very long time.

And as if to prove her right, there was a knock on the door.

"Private First Class Corteza, reporting."

"Come in."

And so, she did, with her first aid kit still in one hand. She then saluted her free hand. But the Commander just waved it away.

"Drop the formalities, there's not enough time for that. I need you to tend the other wounded. More just came in."

"Understood." Corteza nodded, before she pulled a palm-sized bottle from her pocket and placed it on the table.

"An energy drink?"

"We all need one Commander. I've had three myself."

"So that's why you're so perky. Thank you. Now get back to work. I still need to figure out a script."

"Yes, Commander!"