Jayla peered out from her hiding place. Everything seemed quiet, but you could never be sure - she’d narrowly missed being caught a couple of times already, and had no wish to repeat the experience. She crawled through the small opening and emerged onto the metal walkway. Stretching, she stood up straight, wincing as her muscles complained at the activity. She’d been cramped in her cubby hole for two days now, scared from her latest near miss.

She crept down the walkway, as quietly as she could, refusing to let her sight limp hinder her. As she reached the end of the hall, she pressed herself against the edge of the archway and, after checking all was clear, she scurried across the large hold, aiming for the jumble of pipes at the opposite end. Turning left, she eventually reached her destination, praying for her luck to hold just a little while longer. She snuck into the small store room and glanced around nervously.

A few minutes later she snuck back into her hiding place with a sigh of relief, arranging her newly acquired supplies out of the way, wondering how long she could make them last this time. The last lot had only lasted for a few days, and she’d had to cope for twice as long without a chance to get more.

She peeled the wrapping from her foot, wishing she could risk making it down to the med bay. The last time she’d left, she’d managed to catch her foot on the rush back into her hidey hole on a piece of torn metal when someone had walked perilously close. The wound had bled profusely, and still hadn’t started to heal. Jayla wrapped the fabric back around it, trying to ignore the pain and the amount of heat the sore was emitting after a few days and no treatment.

She leant her head back against the metal wall, closed her eyes and prayed to whatever God was listening that the ship would land soon and they weren’t in deep space for the long haul.