Kerry bulldozed her way through the crowded hallway, gripping Rebecca’s hand like a lifeline. Her sister stumbled behind her, her little legs barely able to keep up. To make things worse, Rebecca’s stuffed animal, a ragged rabbit, dragged on the floor, bumping into people’s feet.

“Kerry, slow down!” Rebecca’s voice was tight with frustration as she struggled to keep pace. Kerry ignored her, too focused on reaching the shelter. She wasn’t about to let them be left out in the cold.

She shoved past a woman without thinking.

"Hey!" The woman’s sharp voice pierced through the chaos, and Kerry glanced back, seeing her clutch her head like she’d been hit. Was she hurt or just being dramatic? Kerry couldn’t tell and, frankly, didn’t care.

“You could apologize!” the woman shouted after her.

Kerry turned her head, eyes narrowing as she spat, "Look, I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. Everyone on this damn ship is exhausted. So unless you want to switch places and drag my sister around, let us through!"

She hadn’t realized she was yelling until the woman’s face shifted into surprise. The crowd around them quieted, eyes shifting towards Kerry. She swallowed hard, embarrassed at the outburst, but the tension in her chest didn’t fade.

I get it, I really do,” the woman said, her voice softer now, almost pitying. It made Kerry’s blood boil. She didn’t need sympathy; she needed to get to the shelter before it was too late.

Kerry didn’t bother replying. She turned and pushed forward, pulling Rebecca along like an anchor, determined to leave the awkwardness and the woman’s judgment behind.

The shelter wasn’t much to look at. Crowded. Stuffy. Barely any space between the rows of cots that lined the floor. Kerry’s eyes traced the walls, noticing the faint outlines where old training equipment must have hung, and the taped-up mats covering the floor. Soldiers used to work out here. Now, it was a makeshift home for refugees.

Rebecca, still clutching her stuffed rabbit, gazed around wide-eyed. “It looks like a sleepover,” she whispered, her voice tinged with awe, as if this were some grand adventure.

Kerry sighed. “Yeah, a really crappy one.” Her eyes scanned the long line ahead of them, people standing silently, worn out by the weight of everything. The line moved slowly, and more and more refugees piled in behind them. By the time they reached the front, the line stretched all the way down the hallway

“Name and planet,” the woman behind the desk said, her voice flat and mechanical, as if she’d repeated this phrase a hundred times too many. She didn’t look much older than Kerry, but her eyes were hollow, and her tangled hair hung like a curtain, shielding her from the reality she was living.

Kerry nudged Rebecca forward, trying to keep things moving. “I’m Kerry. This is Rebecca.”

Rebecca, in her usual burst of innocence, flashed a wide smile at the woman. “Hi! What’s your name?” She extended her hand, the stuffed rabbit’s ear dangling from her grip.

The woman stared at Rebecca’s hand for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she reached out and shook it. “Rachel,” she said, her voice softening just a touch.

Kerry watched in surprise. The woman, who had looked dead inside just a moment ago, almost smiled. Almost.

Kerry hesitated, the name of her homeworld sticking in her throat. She hadn’t said it out loud since they fled. “Menia,” she finally whispered.

Rachel’s face darkened. “I’m sorry. What happened there... it was awful. Those shadows didn’t lift a finger to help you

Kerry bit the inside of her cheek, swallowing down the flood of memories. She could still hear the screams, see the chaos as people scrambled to survive while the shadows stood by, watching. Her grip on Rebecca’s hand tightened.

“They never do,” Kerry muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rachel stamped their papers, handing them over. “Your bunk assignments are on here. Give these to the room attendant.”

The hallways felt even more cramped as Kerry led Rebecca through the crowd toward their quarters. People were everywhere—some huddled against the walls, others lying on the floor with whatever belongings they had managed to escape with. Families were given priority for rooms, but individuals were left to fend for themselves in the hallways.

When they reached their assigned door, Kerry knocked, unsure what to expect. The door creaked open, revealing a young woman with bright eyes and long brown hair tied into a loose knot. Her round belly protruded slightly, and she wore it with a kind of quiet pride.

“You must be Kerry!” the woman greeted with a beaming smile, her energy starkly contrasting with the somber atmosphere around them. “I’m Sally.”

Kerry, caught off guard by the warmth in her voice, forced a small smile and shook her hand. “Yeah, nice to meet you.”

Rebecca, of course, was immediately taken with Sally’s friendliness. “I’m Rebecca!” she announced, holding her stuffed rabbit like a prized possession.

Sally crouched down, grinning. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Rebecca. I hope you and Mr. Rabbit find our little space cozy.”

The room was small but not as packed as she feared. A man sat on a cot in the corner, watching his two children play quietly nearby. His clothes were torn, his face worn, but he kept a gentle watch over them.

“You two can take those cots over there,” Sally said, motioning to a pair of empty beds near the far wall. “Once you’re settled, feel free to explore. It’s not much, but it’s safe.”

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked as she plopped down on her cot, squeezing her rabbit tight.

Sally rested a hand on her belly. “I’m headed to the infirmary. I haven’t had anyone check on this little one since we escaped.” Her voice faltered for a moment, her smile wavering as her eyes glazed over with some unspoken pain. Kerry noticed the way Sally’s hand lingered protectively on her belly, the faint shine of a tear in her eye. Whatever she had lost, she carried it quietly.

Rebecca blinked. “Is the doctor nice?”

“I hope so,” Sally said with a small laugh. “I heard it might be a shadow.”

The man in the corner, who had been silently observing, stood. “A shadow? They actually care enough to be here?”

Kerry shot a glance at him, unsure what to say. She didn’t want to believe it either, but something in the doctor’s eyes had been different. “We met her earlier. She seemed... decent.”

The man shook his head, his lips pulling into a bitter line. “I doubt it. Shadows never give a damn about us.”

Kerry couldn’t argue with him. Maybe the doctor had just been acting polite because of Rebecca. Either way, she didn’t want to think about it right now. All she wanted was sleep.

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” Sally said, flashing one last smile before heading out the door.

Kerry sat down on her cot, watching Rebecca laugh and play with the other children, her joy contagious. For now, they were safe. For now, that was enough.