John +FARYS+

[Pennyfield]

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Jill Xi leaned back in the booth, nursing a cup of herbal tea more out of habit than enjoyment. The sterile brilliance of Med Force Omega Hospital still clung to her thoughts — the polished corridors, the long discussions with staff, the subtle tension of transition. Now, in the dim, warm light of the Freeport bar, it felt like another world.

The man who had approached her was... interesting. Weathered face, broad hands, the slight twitch of someone who’d spent too long in deep space. His story spilled out like a cargo bay left unlatched — scattered, jumbled, but undeniably real.

She smiled faintly as he finished, her mind tracing his words back to Omicron Theta. The Academy. Her Academy.

“You were lucky,” Jill said softly, eyes locked onto his. “Theta doesn’t always see survivors from Corsair ambushes, let alone ones floating in the debris field of a busted gunboat. But you were picked up. Treated. Recovered.”

She leaned forward, voice lowering just slightly. “That tells me a few things. One — you’re stubborn. Two — the medics did their job. And three — rumors travel faster than ships in these parts.”

At the mention of the Omega Hospital being for sale, her expression hardened just a touch — professional reflex. She swirled her tea, considering her next words carefully.

“As for the sale... people always talk,” she said. “Sometimes they're right, sometimes they’re just filling the silence. But I can tell you this — wherever there’s need, Med Force is there. Ownership, location... that’s just logistics. Care is what matters.”

She raised her cup in a quiet toast to him.

“To survival. And to the people who patch us back together when the void tries to take us.”

Jill sipped her tea, watching him. She had questions — about the mission, about this guy, about what else he might have heard. But for now, she let the silence settle between them. There was time, and the stars weren’t going anywhere.

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