She was bored as hell. Others were doing interesting things, but not her. Nope. Didn’t the Terrans have a saying about idle hands or something? She supposed the only thing for it was to find something for her hands to do. Yes, it was later, but no one kept regular shift hours these days. At least she didn’t and she dared anyone to call her on it.

Jassa moved through their tiny ship where everyone was either dead and playing someone else, or was deemed a traitor. She didn’t mind. She had heard some of the whining by some of the crew and it just made her shake her head. Jassa and her family had endured the occupation of Bajor and she and her brother had fought in the resistance. Those that complained about the tactics required of their very dangerous assignment had lived cushy lives that they couldn’t possible reconcile with the harshness that others had experience.

Stepping into the Mess Hall, she strode in annoyed that this was the only place to grab a meal. Ah well, maybe something interesting would happen. Immediately she drew attention, and she wasn’t sure if it was that people couldn’t immediately place her, or the skintight black bodysuit she wore, the high heels clicking on the deck. The Bajoran ran a hand over her dark auburn curls that fell to her chin and she flashed a little grin as she moved over to the replicator. “Hasperat,” she ordered, waiting for the food to materialize.

~Renden Jassa