Difference between revisions of "Sanctuary (Juno Eclipse)"

Latest revision as of 04:14, 25 May 2015

When she jerks herself awake from nightmares of fire and twisted durasteel, the lights are still dimmed.

Her quarters are disconcertingly quiet. Distantly, she can hear the hum of the facility's generators, a few notes off from the hum of the Rogue Shadow's hyperdrives. For a fleeting instant, she thinks she's back aboard the ship, and wonders why the quarters look so different.

It takes her several seconds to remember what happened, and to remember where she is. Memory comes rushing back; she draws in a deep breath and lets it go in a silent sigh.

We survived, she thinks, and now we're fugitives of the Empire. We'll always be fugitives from them... Vader won't stop, and the Retribution's going to be a problem.

She stares at the ceiling and lets her eyes drift halfway closed.

No more hiding who I am, now. That's going to take some getting used to. Turning onto her side, she curls up, tugging the surprisingly warm blanket over her shoulders. No more hiding the ship. That'll take even more getting used to. I wonder what time it is; I probably should have been awake hours ago. George wanted a full diagnostic on the Rogue Shadow's damage—

The aimless thoughts are interrupted as the blanket, abruptly, tugs back in the other direction, and she breathes a silent chuckle through her nose, letting him take half.

Poor Galen. He's really pushed himself, hasn't he? He wasn't looking very good towards the end. I'm glad he was able to get some sleep, too. I'd better not wake him.

Letting her eyes hood further, she curls into the blanket, exulting for a moment in the safety and warmth. She can't remember the last time she'd felt really and truly safe. She had chided herself as paranoid, all those years ago. Now, she was glad she'd remained vigilant in spite of herself. It probably meant the difference between life and death. A soft blanket seems like an absurdly minor thing to be grateful over, but wearily, she decides she might like to find Seft and thank her for that.

Later, she thinks. I'm so tired... just a few hours more won't hurt...

As she feels herself letting go and drifting back to sleep, she catches sight of the room's tiny chronometer. According to the date readout, they've been sleeping soundly through the better part of the past twenty-four hours, she realises muzzily.

It speaks to her exhaustion that she doesn't even care.

Just a few more hours... and then the real work can start, she thinks, already feeling her thoughts slowly scatter. I feel...

I feel... safe...