To: Those Rouge Lads

[Commissar]

The oxygen revived Sarah faster then any drug could have, though her temperature was still a few degrees below normal. The tingling in her limbs had returned, and she greeted it with a shiver. It wasn't much; but it was better then the complete lack of feeling she'd had for the past ten hours. The young engineer grinned weakly; she'd made it. Somehow everything else seemed irrelevant; the Rogues, the CSV. She was alive.

Sarah's joy was short lived; however. A large Rogue, at least a foot taller then she, sauntered to her body seemingly reaching for her waist. The girl allowed herself a momentary panic, relieved only slightly by a metallic clatter, as her pistol skidded across the Bactrian'€™s iron floor. Who the hell threw live weapons around? Her still blurry vision did little to attest to the identity of the man. Nor did the stinging blow on her left cheek. It wasn't a particularly heavy blow, but Sarah was in little state to resist it, and her head rolled right. She attempted to raise an arm to protect her face, only then noticing her restraints. Nice to see she was trusted. The too-big flight suit did a little to weaken the hold of the straps, giving her room enough to rotate her hand, if not move her arm. Sarah filed that snipped away for later use.

"-want to speak with you."
The Rogue grinned theatrically, clearly expecting a response of some kind. Sarah groaned internally. Why did she always get the dramatic ones? She noted the smell of gin on him and his men as well as the fact they all carried weapons, even on a rescue mission. He might have been dramatic, but he was also dangerous. She ignored his gaze; the man had his orders. She was fairly certain they included delivering her moderately unharmed. Moderately.

"Yeah. Nice to meet you too." The girl delivered her first full sentence in what felt like years. "What rock? Where are we going?" She'd heard rumours of a Rogue base, though she didn't expect anything more then a few weapon platforms. Perhaps a mooring fixture. The way the man said it, 'The Rock' was much bigger.

A terrifying thought hit her. What if it was a prison, or a slave camp? She knew such things existed. Not quite her idea of adventure. Fear, both of the Rogues and her fate, kept her from succumbing to exhaustion. Sarah's pride wouldn't allow her to show weakness in front of them. Not more then she had, anyway.

---

May you live in interesting times.
| Sarah McFarlen | Jane Hartman |