(no subject)

It's late in the cycle before Hera's back on the Ghost. That hasn't been unusual lately, but today it's because she had spent many extra hours on Phoenix Home, with the pilots now under her command. It was such a fast and sudden change that she hadn't had time to think any more on it. And at first, she hadn't wanted to. The easiest and in this case maybe the best thing was to just dig in. She already knew the pilots of Phoenix Squadron as an ally, had already noted much about their skills and tendencies. Speaking to them as a squadron leader came easily. And neither the pilots nor Sato seemed surprised at this. This was what kept her attention, in those first few hours.

But now she's back on the Ghost, back with her other crew. Rather than heading up toward the cabins, however, Hera moves downward. Down through the ship, on and on, until she reaches the cargo bay. It's completely empty now, as every free meter of it had been used to hold the crates that were dropped down to the Ibaarians.

Hera moves to the edge of the landing that look down into the bay, and lowers herself to the floor, hanging her legs down over the side of the cargo space. She leans forward, lifting one hand to the railing, and resting her head against it.