“The Captain’s Shadow”
Posted on Sat Nov 15th, 2025 @ 7:51am by Petty Officer 1st Class Kara DeSotto & Commodore Phoenix Lalor-Richardson
Mission:
Season 6: Episode 6: Conglomerate
Location: Captains' ready Room,
Timeline: MD 3 - Late Alpha Shift
572 words - 1.1 OF Standard Post Measure
The ready room was dark except for the faint blue light of the stars streaking past the view port. The rest of the bridge had gone still hours ago; only the low hum of the ship and the soft rhythm of the Commodore’s stylus tapping against a PADD broke the silence.
Phoenix Lalor-Richardson hadn’t moved in nearly an hour. The reports were endless — casualty summaries, repair estimates, security updates. They filled her desk, her mind, her bones. She had read every line twice, but the numbers didn’t change. Thirty dead. Sixty injured. Dozens of shaken survivors still haunted by screams in the dark.
The door chimed softly.
Phoenix didn’t look up. “Enter.”
Kara DeSoto stepped inside, her posture straight despite the exhaustion around her eyes. She carried a small stack of padds, the topmost glowing faintly with administrative tags. “I know it’s late, Commodore,” she said quietly, “but these needed your review before shift change.”
Phoenix sighed and gestured toward the desk. “Put them there, Kara.”
Kara did so, then hesitated — rare for her. The Commodore noticed. “What is it?”
“Permission to speak freely?” Kara asked.
Phoenix looked up, one eyebrow raised. “Always.”
Kara’s hands clasped behind her back. “You’ve been here since yesterday’s cycle began. You haven’t left this room.”
Phoenix’s mouth twitched faintly — not quite a smile. “The ship doesn’t stop bleeding because I do.”
“I know,” Kara said, voice steady but soft. “But it also doesn’t heal any faster when its captain collapses.”
That made Phoenix pause. She set the stylus down and leaned back in her chair, studying her yeoman. There was no challenge in Kara’s tone, only quiet conviction — the kind that came from someone who had stood in the shadows of command for years and learned when to speak.
“I can rest when the next shift reports,” Phoenix said finally.
Kara nodded. “Then I’ll make sure you do.”
Phoenix arched an eyebrow. “That sounded like an order.”
Kara allowed herself the faintest smile. “A suggestion, ma’am. Strongly worded.”
For a moment, the silence between them softened. Kara reached across the desk and slid one of the casualty reports toward her. “The memorial roster’s finalized. Would you like to review it before I submit?”
Phoenix’s eyes lingered on the list — so many names, so many good people. “No,” she said after a beat. “I trust your hand.”
Kara inclined her head. “Understood.”
When she turned to go, Phoenix’s voice stopped her. “Kara.”
“Ma’am?”
Phoenix leaned forward, her expression unguarded for just a heartbeat. “Thank you — for holding this ship together when the rest of us were falling apart.”
Kara didn’t respond immediately. She simply met the Commodore’s gaze — steady, quiet, resolute. “It’s what I’m here for, ma’am. Someone has to keep the light on.”
Phoenix exhaled slowly, nodding once. “Dismissed, Petty Officer.”
As Kara left the ready room, the door hissed shut behind her. Phoenix looked back down at the padd in front of her — the one with Kara’s signature on the bottom line.
The hum of the ship filled the silence again, but it felt steadier now.
Somewhere in the lower decks, the night shift carried on. And in that small, unseen way that only the best officers understood, Kara DeSoto’s presence continued to steady the heart of the Elysium.
