Seeing Sting being towed off the hangar deck was making the reality of this all hit home, a lump forming in Anika's stomach. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her suit, wiping the sweat forming on them on the insides. It had been a long time since she'd been into any part of any military ship in the fleet other than the deck she'd arrive on. She focused on Sting, the chat from the other pilot only drawing a nod or other nondescript sound of acknowledgement from the civilian.
"Miss Jereldsen, are you sure you don't want to come through to the mess hall?"
Anika's eyes widened and she shook her head vehemently. "No, thanks, I'll stay with my ship," she said hurriedly. A simple shrug from the other woman who started talking with one of the deck hands left Anika to go across and lean against Sting's hull, the feeling sinking in that it was going to be a very long wait.