The swimming sensation in her head only worsened the harder Janelle tried to quiet it. Had she been a bit more lucid, she might have been grateful for it, however, as it was the primary reason that the disorienting panic deep in the pit of her stomach was only a distant, barely recognizable flicker rather than a tidal wave.
She was somewhat aware of something of a reflex within her uncooperative muscles, like some form of spring-loaded trap that went off at the slightest touch, urging her to leap from the bed and bolt for the door, shoulder-checking straight through the strange woman if she had to. However, in her stupor, and from the way the sterile white walls of the room kept blurring in and out of focus, she only managed to sit up on trembling elbows, only to shy back away from the woman as she leaned in uncomfortably close, barely noticing her examinations.
"Waypoint...?" The single word came out in a long, drawn-out slur, and it sounded far away, even inside her own head, as if she were listening to herself speak from the end of a long hallway. It took a few seconds for her to realize what the word even meant, let alone what it implied, and to make sense of what the woman was saying to her. As the shreds of comprehension slowly started to piece together, forming a half-completed puzzle in her mind, she blinked a few times and tried to rub her eyes with the back of her hand. Her arm felt like dead weight, and it took a considerable effort for her to even lift it.
Waypoint Trade Station.
She didn't recognize the name, but she did remember that she had been going somewhere. Was it here? Had she arrived? If so, how had she gotten here?
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The young woman's bleary eyes closed for a moment as the muscles in her angular face began to stiffen slightly, coming back from the slack, vacant expression they'd had moments before. Her face was gaunt, not quite to the point of emaciation, but beneath the unhealthy-looking veneer were the strong features of youth. High cheekbones flanked a tall, slender nose, crowning a diamond-shaped face that was not without an elegant, if coarse, beauty. The sheets bunched about her trim figure hinted at a build that once was athletic and lithe, now thin and brittle from malnutrition.
Within a few seconds, her eyelids lifted again, revealing a pair of focused dull green irises as she managed to bring herself to a sitting position, her head turning to scan the room. A lock of long auburn hair brushed across her shoulder as it rotated, coming to rest silently across her chest.
"...Halna?" Janelle continued in an interrogative tone that was both direct and uncertain before turning her face back to the nurse. Those green pools fixated on her with a pleading, almost desperate gaze, and yet if the nurse was observant, a steely, fierce intelligence shone through for a moment. "The ship, I was on a ship. What happened?"