(( Related: [SWTOR] Strike (Jacqueline). The following is on my SWTOR smuggler, Captain Jacqueline “Jackie” Rees. ))
The chorus of beeps inside the med bay were more than enough to keep Jacqueline laying awake if not for Hamett’s potent cocktail of vertigo and pain suppressants. Cracking open her eyes, it was a welcome relief to finally see the ceiling and floors stay obediently put. Still, her head pounded, making its best impression of a hangover without all the fun precursors, and the burns on her skin still throbbed from their brief exposure to Tatooine suns and sand.
Tatooine. Hanging an arm over her eyes, Jacqueline winced at both the pain and the thought. Rolling from the bed, she limped to the med bay console. Numbers and Basic danced on the screen, blending together no doubt due to what Hamett had assured her was more than one concussion. Squinting against her blurry vision, Jacqueline attempted to work the console, tapping the keypad and bending the tech to her commands. But even the simplest security bypass maneuvers sent her head reeling, and she found herself repeating basic steps or skipping numbers entirely. Slamming her palm against the console in frustration, she slumped on the floor.
“Fucking hell,” she swore under her breath to no one. The med bay for now was empty. A rare opportunity was just thoroughly wasted.
She was struck by how utterly exposed she was. Her armor was damaged, therefore currently useless and stowed away till repair. Her ship was presumably on a tarmac elsewhere on the compound in a direction she hadn’t yet explored. Slicing into the mainframe proved difficult when simply standing and not seeing double posed a challenge. Though assured by Bedisa, accompanied by Hamett, and with Gen’rik often lurking in her shadow, Jacqueline’s sole thought was to leave the compound as soon as possible.
Jacqueline mentally counted the minutes, something far easier when the brain wasn’t so addled by recent blows and a cocktail of drugs. Hamett would be by on his routine check up soon. Easing herself off the floor, she returned to the bed. Her vertigo immediately quelled, the drugs resuming their work. She was immediately tempted to try the console again but rising partly off the bed, her head promptly reminded her she currently wasn’t at her best. She laid back down.
“Shouldn’t have gone on that stupid walk,” she muttered to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose.
Gritting her teeth against the pain, she inwardly berated herself. Her morning walk and verbal dual with Brembal likely set her back a day or two. No doubt he too would be by to check in on her soon. The old Sith’s curiosity in the captain was obvious. The very thought egged her enough to battle against the injection Hamett gave to encourage sleep, but the end result landed her somewhere between nausea and total exhaustion.
Giving in, she laid her head back and closed her eyes. Though she finally rested, she drifted into sleep taunted by the distinct image of a bird trapped in a cage.
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