It had been a few days since her escape from the Ketch.
At the helm of a Wolf Skiff, a young Eliksni found herself hungry and exhausted, without a dime to her name. With a quiet groan, Qaytiks leaned back in her chair, two hands on her knees, and two hands covering her face. She never thought she’d find herself in a situation like this; running from people she once called “family” and a ship she once called “home” for fear of death was a tale she’d only heard told to scare misbehaving Dregs into line, lest they get exiled.
Instead of forced exile, however, she had chosen this without prompting.
What possessed her to leave the Queen’s service was a mystery to her, though it had something to do with why she left Skolas’. Something was missing from the Ketch of Wolves, something ideological for her; now a Skiff was too, albeit one that was unloaded and needed repairs. It was all she could do to let it float about the asteroid belt to conserve fuel; she was not within sight of any outpost, nor any Wolf vessels, so she hoped she could take some time to think this through.
Sudden flashing lights and a warning siren blaring throughout the control room informed her otherwise merely seconds after she started to relax. Tensing her shoulders once more, she reared up, and immediately set herself to the console, deciphering the problem as fast as she could. Her radar was alerting her - one, two, at least three Awoken patrol ships closing in on the Skiff, and fast. She set to transmitting a signal on a common frequency, intense desperation in her voice as she struggled with remembering the language of the Awoken.
“Attention! Attention! No harm! No danger, no harm...! Kell of Kells’ guard! Queen guard! Ronja guard! No weapons! No harm! Please!”
