Phaedra did not like spending time in her room. She'd stand by what she'd called it, speaking to Jo.
It was a cell. A cage.
And she did not wish to spend very much time stuck inside it.
While awake, Phaedra kept out of it. Her sleep was different here, too. Space didn't have a definitive sun rise, now did it? Her body did not need to go dead, and that was both wonderful and awful. It meant more time to kill.
Phaedra wished she had a good book.
She busied herself by checking on the others, walking by their rooms when they slept, making sure the aliens kept a reasonable distance and did not engage. She reverted to her bodyguard behavior.
And that made her miss Harry.
The sleepwalking man was new, Phaedra was sure. She didn't recognize him from the noir planet or the meeting before that.
She silently followed him. Somewhere she'd read you were not supposed to wake a sleepwalker.