Prodigal

After a long day in the forge, and a long night of pacing the corridors of the bar looking for Curtis, Dejah had come back to her rooms and tried to work on the prostheses.  She'd made significant progress, building the initial layer of isolates and imprinting the neurological signature she'd recorded the very first day onto the layer itself.  It took an incredible amount of focus and when she was done, she lay her tools on her work bench.  Bleary-eyed and exhausted, she made her way to the bed.


She didn't wake for many hours.  Not even the recurring image of Curtis's shy smile melting into the leering grin of Matai Chang could manage to stir her from sleep.  It was late in the day when she rolled over and peered at the window.  The sun was going down.  Or was it coming up? She couldn't tell.