The observation deck was quiet now. The injured had been helped or carried to the medical bay and the rest of the crew - physically unharmed if not exactly unscathed - had dispersed. With two exceptions.

Shortly after Faizia had managed to reattach Goliath's hand, Stacy had turned him to stone to speed up the healing process and manage his shock. He stood in the centre of the room, a statue surrounded by his own blood, as the chaos continued to unfold around him. Elisa had stayed with him for the most part, although she'd left his side on a few occasions to help to clear the deck and maintain order in the aftermath of the punishment. As an afterthought, she'd made a partially successful attempt to wash the blood - Goliath's blood - from her hands.

As the ship's makeshift sunrise drew closer, she sat on the edge of the patch of dried blood with her knees hugged to her chest. She was pale and tired and her plant suit would probably never be clean again, but she wouldn't be able to rest easily until she knew that Goliath really was all right.