She dreamed of a grand machine that called itself the galaxy, full of pistons and cogs that she could see the forces behind. In this dream she was as infinite as An-Takii, with ten-thousand hands that corrected every frayed wire and blown socket. Despite its solidity it was like a vast sea that she fell into, pillow-soft and rippling behind her as she fell to the aphotic depths of what she imagined an ocean was like. Flickers in the gloom of activity, of many staring eyes–
Nishka jerked awake-- or more accurately, the ship jerked her awake, freeing itself from the endless tunnel of hyperspace. She rubbed the bridge of her nose with a soft groan, glancing around herself. The lights in the passenger seats were still dimmed for the comfort of those napping, and in the seats across from her a Trandoshan dozed quietly. Her mouth was dry, neck stiff from her head being slumped on her shoulder. She stretched as expansively as her seat allowed, then reached beneath her seat for a water bottle.
A soft chime came over the intercom, followed by a smooth female voice. “Good morning, everyone. CZ Flight two-seven-one-oh is moving in for orbiting the planet of Viscara. We’ll be docking at the CZ two-two-oh base within roughly twenty minutes; please fasten your seatbelts and refrain from unrestricted movement. The local time above Veles is ten-sixteen. We hope you’ve enjoyed your travels with Czerka Shuttles.”
That made Nishka sit up. Coming in for orbit? She pulled up the shutter on her window, hoping to catch a glimpse-- and her jaw dropped.
Viscara filled the window, and it was green. Green and blue and brown and white, like a marble, with so many shades in between she could hardly count. It was so very different from the way Oovo loomed perpetually in the periphery of the station viewports, always sullen in colour. No, Viscara teemed with life. It was undoubtedly a place where humans were meant to set foot, to build, to thrive instead of survive.
She must have spent a good chunk of those twenty minutes staring at the planet, watching clouds-- clouds of water and not hydrogen and ammonia-- swirl across the globe, trying to make out details in the tiny blots of grey city on the surface. Nishka wondered with giddy anticipation what it would be like to breathe a real atmosphere; and no, Coruscant didn’t count because it had probably turned her lungs black. A real atmosphere, and real plants, and real sunlight…
A memory came unbidden to her. She was twelve, and watching Mom file through old holos of Akiva. Mom had always had a wistful look on her face as she sorted through the images, pointing out old ruins and her favourite trees to climb when she was very young. It had never been said outright, but Nishka had the feeling Mom was more bitter than she’d let on about moving to Oovo IV. No more trees and a good deal more crime.
Nishka shook her head-- thinking of home now would only make her sad. Her new life was coming up fast, and she refused to allow the past to colour it.
She disentangled her ankles from the straps of her duffel bag (a precaution, in case the flight attendants weren’t so attentive) and slid it to her feet, the better to grab it when they docked. The lights began to gradually brighten, flickering occasionally in a shining testament to Czerka’s commitment to quality. Attendants slowly filed down the aisles, quietly waking passengers.
After what felt like both forever and no time at all, the entire ship briefly shook again. With a faint chunk that reverberated through the hull, Nishka caught sight of CZ-220 outside the window. What few passengers remained began to wander sleepily down the aisle; she grabbed her bag, and slipped in behind them.
I’m here, she thought. It didn’t feel real, this next new stop. Almost as if she pinched herself, she would wake entirely.
Nishka stepped off the ship, into the docking hall. Pinched herself.
Nothing happened. She was still here. With a smile, she set off down the hall, towards her new life.