“You always had to prove yourself, didn’t you?”

Posted on Tue Oct 28th, 2025 @ 7:19pm by Cadet Freshman Grade Miran Lalor [Lalor] HRH & Commodore Phoenix Lalor-Richardson

Mission: Season 6: Episode 6: Conglomerate
Location: **USS Elysium – Main Sickbay**
Timeline: MD1 18h00
882 words - 1.8 OF Standard Post Measure

The world swam in and out of focus. Miran caught flashes — gloved hands, the harsh white lights of Sickbay, the sound of boots on deck plating, and the metallic tang of blood and disinfectant mixing in the air.

“Pressure dressing here! She’s lost a lot of blood!” a voice barked somewhere near her head.

Someone was holding her still. She tried to push up, to tell them she was fine — but the moment she moved, a jagged bolt of pain shot through her shoulder, sending her back down with a strangled gasp.

“Stay still, Cadet,” the medic ordered firmly. “You did your job. Let us do ours.”

The battlefield haze lifted just enough for her to make out the face above her — a young nurse, calm but pale, pressing a regenerator against her shoulder where the beast’s claws had torn through uniform and flesh alike.

The edges of her mind swirled — she could still hear the creature’s death cry echoing through her memory, feel the weight of her sword driving home.

Then another voice broke through, steady but tight with emotion.
“Miran.”

She knew that tone anywhere.

Phoenix.

The Commodore’s boots clicked against the deck as she crossed to the biobed, eyes sweeping over the injury, the medics, the blood. She tried to keep her composure — but her jaw flexed, and her hand came to rest lightly on her sister’s uninjured arm.

“Don’t you *ever* pull something like that again,” Phoenix said softly, her voice low enough the others pretended not to hear.

Miran managed a crooked smile, her face pale with exhaustion. “Someone had to make sure it didn’t reach the others.”

Phoenix exhaled sharply, the kind of breath that was halfway between a reprimand and relief. “You could’ve been killed.”

“Almost was,” Miran murmured, eyes fluttering. “But I’m still here.”

The lead medic straightened. “She’ll make it, Commodore. Deep lacerations, plasma burns, but no permanent damage. We’ll keep her under observation for a few hours.”

Phoenix nodded, visibly forcing herself to step back. “Do it. And make sure she gets rest — or I’ll confine her to quarters myself.”

As the med team moved to stabilize the readings, Miran reached out, fingers brushing Phoenix’s sleeve. “Hey,” she whispered. “Tell Mom I’m fine, yeah?”

For a moment, Phoenix’s mask slipped, her eyes softening. “You tell her yourself when you wake up.”

Miran managed a faint laugh before the sedative took hold and the world faded to black, the sound of Sickbay alarms replaced by the steady rhythm of her own heartbeat in the monitors beside her.

==
A while later:

The bustle of Sickbay had quieted. The wounded had been triaged, the worst cases transferred to isolation wards, and the air now hummed with the soft rhythm of monitors and whispered reports.

Phoenix stood beside the biobed, her arms folded, shoulders squared in the way that made her look unshakable — the way a commanding officer was expected to look.

But her eyes told a different story.

Miran lay motionless under a pale field of stasis light, her skin ghostly against the white sheets. The regenerator’s soft blue shimmer pulsed over the torn flesh of her shoulder, and Phoenix found herself counting the pattern — anything to keep her mind from replaying the words she’d heard on the comm: *Cadet Lalor injured in combat, critical condition, enroute to Sickbay.*

She had heard many such calls in her career. Too many. But never with *that* name attached.

A young doctor's voice broke the silence. “She’ll recover, Commodore. Your sister’s tougher than she looks.”

Phoenix managed a small nod. “She always was.”

The officer studied her for a moment before quietly retreating to the far end of the ward. He knew better than to linger.

Alone now, Phoenix allowed herself to exhale — the first real breath she’d taken since the attack began. She reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Miran’s forehead, her gloved hand trembling just slightly.

“You always had to prove yourself, didn’t you?” she murmured. “Always trying to show you could keep up.”

Her gaze drifted to the ceiling. Beyond it — decks upon decks of people who depended on her. And beyond them, the dark of the Circinus Galaxy, endless and indifferent. Their mother was, light-years away, on Earth, unreachable even by subspace.

“I can’t even tell her,” Phoenix whispered, her voice breaking the still air. “I can’t tell her you nearly died today.”

The biobed monitor beeped in steady rhythm. Miran’s breathing evened, her vitals strengthening under the sedatives.

Phoenix leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her sister’s temple. “You rest. I’ll handle the monsters.”

She straightened, mask of command sliding back into place, and turned toward the door.

“Avalon” she said quietly, “Notify me the moment Cadet Lalor regains consciousness.”

“Acknowledged.”

As the doors hissed shut behind her, Phoenix paused for half a heartbeat, glancing back at the still form on the bed. The Commodore’s posture was perfect, her expression calm — but the tiny shake in her hands told the truth only the walls of Sickbay would ever hear. She had a briefing to prepare for.

OFF