Stormbird
I was starting to realize that being on my own involved a lot more responsibility than I'd originally thought.
When people talked about freedom, they always made it sound simple. You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted, make your own decisions, and live your life however you chose. Nobody ever seemed to talk about the smaller parts of it. Nobody mentioned how easy it was to forget something important when there wasn't anyone around to remind you. Nobody mentioned how much of adulthood seemed to revolve around keeping track of schedules, tickets, times, and places. Most people probably learned those things growing up. I seemed to be learning them by making mistakes.
The shuttle to Naboo lifted away from the platform just as I entered the terminal.
At first I just stared at it because my brain refused to accept what I was looking at. I knew this was the right gate. I knew I had the right ticket. I'd checked everything before I left. Yet there it was, slowly rising beyond the viewport while I stood inside the terminal watching it leave without me. For a few seconds I genuinely thought there had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe I'd misread the display. Maybe there was another shuttle. Maybe there was something I wasn't seeing. The idea that I'd simply missed it felt too stupid to be true.
"No..."
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
I started walking faster anyway, weaving around travelers and luggage as though moving more quickly would somehow improve the situation. It didn't. By the time I reached the gate there wasn't anyone left there. No crew. No passengers. No shuttle. Just an empty platform and a viewport showing me exactly how far away my ride was getting. I looked down at my datapad and reread the departure time. Then I checked it again. Then once more, just to be absolutely certain that reality hadn't changed in the last ten seconds. It hadn't.
"Good job, Rin."
The muttered words were accompanied by a slow exhale as I rubbed a hand across my forehead. The frustration arrived a moment later and settled in immediately. It wasn't directed at the shuttle or the station or anyone else. It was directed entirely at me. I'd bought the ticket days ago. I'd checked the departure time before leaving. I had actually left early because I was worried about being late, and somehow I'd still managed to miss the thing anyway. The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became. Not just because of the credits, though that certainly wasn't helping. The credits mattered because they were mine. Nobody had given them to me. Nobody had managed them for me. I'd earned them, saved them, and then apparently spent them on the privilege of standing in a terminal watching a shuttle leave without me. For a moment I seriously considered continuing to stand there and be angry about it. The idea wasn't particularly productive, but it was tempting.
Instead, I closed my eyes and took a slow breath.
"Okay."
The word came out quietly, then a few seconds passed.
"Okay, you're upset."
That felt more accurate. The strange thing about saying it out loud was that it forced me to actually listen to myself. I wasn't furious. I wasn't panicking. I was frustrated, embarrassed, and annoyed with myself, which wasn't exactly the same thing no matter how much my brain wanted to lump them together. Muttering to myself again.
"That's fine, You can be annoyed."
Another breath followed. The noise of the terminal drifted around me as travelers continued moving from one destination to another without paying much attention to the girl quietly talking to herself beside an empty gate. The shuttle was gone. The ticket was wasted. The mistake had already happened. None of those things were going to change no matter how long I stood there replaying them in my head. What would change was what I did next, and eventually that realization managed to cut through enough of the frustration that I could think clearly again.
When I checked the schedule a second time, it confirmed exactly what I already knew. The next shuttle to Naboo wasn't until tomorrow morning. Twenty-two hours. I stared at the number for a few moments before shaking my head and slipping the datapad back into my bag.
"Tomorrow it is."
The words sounded more confident than I felt, but they were true. Naboo wasn't going anywhere. The shuttle wasn't going anywhere either, at least not until tomorrow.
With nowhere else to be, I wandered away from the gate and eventually found a seat overlooking the landing platforms. Travelers passed by carrying luggage, talking with friends, rushing toward departures, or arriving somewhere they'd probably spent days trying to reach. Watching them move through the terminal gave me something else to focus on besides my own mistake. After a while I found myself resting my elbows on my knees and watching another shuttle descend toward a neighboring platform while the frustration slowly settled into something more manageable.
"Food first,"
I murmured, more to organize my thoughts than anything else.
"Then find somewhere to sleep. Then try not to embarrass yourself again tomorrow."
That earned a faint smile despite myself.
The plan wasn't particularly impressive, but it was a plan, and plans felt a lot easier to deal with than mistakes. Maybe that was what being on your own actually meant. Not always getting things right, but learning how to recover when you got them wrong. Missing the shuttle still felt stupid, and it would probably continue feeling stupid for the rest of the day, but the more I sat there watching ships come and go, the harder it became to treat it like a disaster. It was just a mistake. A frustratingly expensive mistake, but still just a mistake.
"Still going to Naboo tomorrow,"
I reminded myself quietly as another transport settled onto its landing pad. The reminder helped more than I expected. After all, Naboo wasn't going anywhere.
And for the next twenty-two hours, apparently neither was I.
Aiden Porte
When people talked about freedom, they always made it sound simple. You could go where you wanted, do what you wanted, make your own decisions, and live your life however you chose. Nobody ever seemed to talk about the smaller parts of it. Nobody mentioned how easy it was to forget something important when there wasn't anyone around to remind you. Nobody mentioned how much of adulthood seemed to revolve around keeping track of schedules, tickets, times, and places. Most people probably learned those things growing up. I seemed to be learning them by making mistakes.
The shuttle to Naboo lifted away from the platform just as I entered the terminal.
At first I just stared at it because my brain refused to accept what I was looking at. I knew this was the right gate. I knew I had the right ticket. I'd checked everything before I left. Yet there it was, slowly rising beyond the viewport while I stood inside the terminal watching it leave without me. For a few seconds I genuinely thought there had to be some kind of mistake. Maybe I'd misread the display. Maybe there was another shuttle. Maybe there was something I wasn't seeing. The idea that I'd simply missed it felt too stupid to be true.
"No..."
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
I started walking faster anyway, weaving around travelers and luggage as though moving more quickly would somehow improve the situation. It didn't. By the time I reached the gate there wasn't anyone left there. No crew. No passengers. No shuttle. Just an empty platform and a viewport showing me exactly how far away my ride was getting. I looked down at my datapad and reread the departure time. Then I checked it again. Then once more, just to be absolutely certain that reality hadn't changed in the last ten seconds. It hadn't.
"Good job, Rin."
The muttered words were accompanied by a slow exhale as I rubbed a hand across my forehead. The frustration arrived a moment later and settled in immediately. It wasn't directed at the shuttle or the station or anyone else. It was directed entirely at me. I'd bought the ticket days ago. I'd checked the departure time before leaving. I had actually left early because I was worried about being late, and somehow I'd still managed to miss the thing anyway. The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became. Not just because of the credits, though that certainly wasn't helping. The credits mattered because they were mine. Nobody had given them to me. Nobody had managed them for me. I'd earned them, saved them, and then apparently spent them on the privilege of standing in a terminal watching a shuttle leave without me. For a moment I seriously considered continuing to stand there and be angry about it. The idea wasn't particularly productive, but it was tempting.
Instead, I closed my eyes and took a slow breath.
"Okay."
The word came out quietly, then a few seconds passed.
"Okay, you're upset."
That felt more accurate. The strange thing about saying it out loud was that it forced me to actually listen to myself. I wasn't furious. I wasn't panicking. I was frustrated, embarrassed, and annoyed with myself, which wasn't exactly the same thing no matter how much my brain wanted to lump them together. Muttering to myself again.
"That's fine, You can be annoyed."
Another breath followed. The noise of the terminal drifted around me as travelers continued moving from one destination to another without paying much attention to the girl quietly talking to herself beside an empty gate. The shuttle was gone. The ticket was wasted. The mistake had already happened. None of those things were going to change no matter how long I stood there replaying them in my head. What would change was what I did next, and eventually that realization managed to cut through enough of the frustration that I could think clearly again.
When I checked the schedule a second time, it confirmed exactly what I already knew. The next shuttle to Naboo wasn't until tomorrow morning. Twenty-two hours. I stared at the number for a few moments before shaking my head and slipping the datapad back into my bag.
"Tomorrow it is."
The words sounded more confident than I felt, but they were true. Naboo wasn't going anywhere. The shuttle wasn't going anywhere either, at least not until tomorrow.
With nowhere else to be, I wandered away from the gate and eventually found a seat overlooking the landing platforms. Travelers passed by carrying luggage, talking with friends, rushing toward departures, or arriving somewhere they'd probably spent days trying to reach. Watching them move through the terminal gave me something else to focus on besides my own mistake. After a while I found myself resting my elbows on my knees and watching another shuttle descend toward a neighboring platform while the frustration slowly settled into something more manageable.
"Food first,"
I murmured, more to organize my thoughts than anything else.
"Then find somewhere to sleep. Then try not to embarrass yourself again tomorrow."
That earned a faint smile despite myself.
The plan wasn't particularly impressive, but it was a plan, and plans felt a lot easier to deal with than mistakes. Maybe that was what being on your own actually meant. Not always getting things right, but learning how to recover when you got them wrong. Missing the shuttle still felt stupid, and it would probably continue feeling stupid for the rest of the day, but the more I sat there watching ships come and go, the harder it became to treat it like a disaster. It was just a mistake. A frustratingly expensive mistake, but still just a mistake.
"Still going to Naboo tomorrow,"
I reminded myself quietly as another transport settled onto its landing pad. The reminder helped more than I expected. After all, Naboo wasn't going anywhere.
And for the next twenty-two hours, apparently neither was I.
Aiden Porte