Snippet #2238232

Mercia was quiet for the next two hours, her head still spinning at the swift attack on the Star Ship. She had been contemplating her own life and the safety of the others. The brunette had quietly moved to a corner to get her bearings together. After an hour she became apparent of her aches and pains. A few cuts and minor bruising, but nothing major. So the strategist decided to sit for while. Just until she was sure she wouldn't have a hysterical break down. They obviously had no plan of attack at this point in time. From what she guessed, they just used all of there weapons, out ran the enemies, and made it to a station. Hopefully, it was unmarked. Breathing in deeply, the young woman decided it was time to see a commanding officer, someone that was in charge. Anyone, at this point, that could answer her question.

Standing shakily to her feet, the brunette kept a leisurely pace to the door. Her vintage bag still strapped to her body, completely ignored by it's owner as she made her way through new halls. Nothing looked familiar and she was to prideful to admit that she was lost. So, the brunette continued walking, hoping to find a semi-familiar face to ask for directions.