Bee
Internet Hate Machine
- Joined
- Nov 13, 2013
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THE EXPANSION REGION COORDINATES UNKNOWN | THE JADE PHOENIX 0220 HOURS |
They called it The Jade Phoenix, but as far as Alba could tell, the captain really should've named it The Jade Piece of Shit instead. The Ronto-class transport ship was practically prehistoric, all sharp, awkward angles that were as inefficient as they were retro, and the hull itself had been painted a shade of sickening pea soup green that was so offensive it made her wish for temporary colorblindness. It was bad, but a ship was a ship. With a fake identity that barely held water and a only a few thousand credits to her name, Alba could hardly be picky about her choice of intergalactic transportation, and the pilot seemed capable enough not to drive the whole thing into a stray asteroid - so what did it matter, really? So what, if it was ugly. So what, if it was old. Maybe the ship's unimpressive appearance would be enough to deter both pirates and Imperial patrol ships alike, and maybe - just maybe - she'd make it to her destination in one piece, without having to blast her way out of an awkward situation. A girl could dream. Or perhaps she would've had such pleasant dreams - dreams of an easy ride through the galaxy, of being safe and alone and living a quiet, penitent life forever - if she could sleep, but all Alba could do was toss and turn, staring at the ceiling of her bunk as though it might hold the answers to the insomnia that plagued her. Sleep is like a cat, her commander had always said. It only comes when you aren't looking for it. But it was two in the morning - though day and night were somewhat nebulous concepts in the middle of space, the clocks still kept time and she was still dog tired - and there was nothing else to look for, nothing else to call, nothing more worthwhile to seek. With a groan, she changed positions. Face down, arms wrapped around a scratchy pillow, she wanted to scream. Were sleepless nights a punishment for what she had done? It was a cruel and unusual thing to be deprived of something so essential, and Alba couldn't help but resent her guilty, restless thoughts, and the memories that came unbidden when she let her mind wander. The blood, the screaming - it had been weeks, but gods, she could still smell it on her skin. It was a stain that refused to wash away, no matter how hard she scrubbed, no matter how raw she rubbed her arms and legs and hands and face. She'd given up on trying. Resigned to her fate, she swung her legs over the side of her rented bed and pulled on the nearest pieces of clothing she could find. A white t-shirt, two sizes too large, tucked into a pair of dark pants that were similarly oversized, cinched with a belt to prevent them from falling. She wandered the ship's halls in bare feet, shuffling toward the lounge with all the enthusiasm of a teenager faced with a math exam, making a beeline for the icebox that, Force willing, contained something resembling a beer. |