||Location: Sol System
||Time: Unknown

“Okay, Han Solo,” Kir teased with a smile. “I’m starting to wonder if I’m just dreaming up a bad Star Wars knock-off, and I’ll wake up buried under that mountain like every other day for the last half-century.”

She pushed herself up from the sofa and stretched toward the ceiling with a wide yawn to break the tension she’d been carrying in her body.

“About another hour, give or take,” she responded to his query about how much longer it would take them to reach their destination. “This old rust bucket may only be a planet hopper, but she’s still got what I think you call FTL capabilities. At least it gives us plenty of time to come up with a shopping list. Fuel cells are at the top of that. And an update chip for the ship’s computer - no doubt everything is completely out of date, including the star maps.”

Kir’ion paused looking down at herself with a frown, picking at the thin scrubs she was wearing, “And I need a change of clothes. So do you or we’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”

She made a look of realization, groaned, and rubbed her face with her hands, “And a lot of food. You eat…what? Three times a day? Four? This shopping list is getting more expensive by the second… We’re going to have to scrap every unnecessary system for parts to resell. I wonder if my old-“

Kir’s voice cut off before she could finish, lifting her face out of her hands and without another word, starting off on a beeline straight for the bunks. Her old slave bands would fetch a pretty penny if they were still safely tucked away. The upside to her last owner being a noble was their inclination toward the expensive. Climbing up the ladder to the top bunk, she felt around for the loose panel above the top bunk, pushing in until it gave way. She had to reach almost her whole arm in, feeling around in the dark until she found the blanket she’d bundled them up in. 

Pulling them out, Kir unwrapped them and time felt like it stopped around her. Glittering in platinum silver tones, dappled with intricate engravings and jewels were the symbols of her captivity. The weight of them in her lap made her blood run cold in her veins and she swallowed hard, struggling to tear her eyes away from them. They were of no use to her now; she was free. And yet she couldn’t shake the heaviness that she wasn’t really, not as long as the empire existed. Not as long as Harrison lived under threat of being made a slave to his armor, and her along with him. What was she doing sharing her mind with someone bearing the crest of the very system that had brought her entire people to their knees and scattered them across the stars to serve at the pleasure of masters who barely saw them as more than tools? How could she possibly think the two of them were remotely equipped to stand against the empire? Her hands shook with the weight of memory, her breaths fast and shallow with panic as her mind reeled. 

[i]What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing?[/i]

[i]Put them away. Stop looking at them,[/i] she tried to will herself.