First night

There was a foreign hum all throughout the ship. Rhythmic, intoxicating and all too steady. The only constant left for Juno to cling to as she sat at the dashboard, absently looking out of the cockpit window, wondering what was even left for her out here, in a galaxy far too big to explore alone.

Alone. 

There was nobody left for her to rely on. No contacts to fall back to, nobody to seek guidance from. No support. No family. All she had left was CD-0, who was lazily looking at the fluorescent cockpit lights, watching them flicker with jaded interest. A shaky breath escaped her lips as Juno leaned back into the pilot's seat of The Chariot, a ship she once felt proud to fly alongside her clan, now the only thing separating her from the endless void of space; it hadn’t truly hit her yet, just how hopeless everything felt.

For months, she’d prepared for the inevitable. When Clan Pifra would eventually kick her to the wolves on the basis of a shattered creed that had morphed them into hungry zealots. Read up on everything she could, had a list of places to head first, waking up every morning trying to forget the fact that the people she surrounded herself with wanted nothing more to do with her. They’d taken everything but her helmet; called it an ‘honorable exile,’ if such a thing existed.

And now, that day had come. She’d spent most of it in the cockpit, mindlessly fiddling with whatever buttons she could press that wouldn’t lurch them into hyperdrive. Sometimes stifling her tears, though her choked sobs still occasionally echoed through her helmet; but she was a Mandalorian. She wasn’t trained for tears. She was trained to face adversity with a strong heart and an even mind - that’s what she kept telling herself, at least. Even if she technically wasn't considered a "Mandalorian" anymore. Anything she could do to stifle the agonizing dread that had settled in her chest surrounding her current circumstances. The weight of isolation grew heavy on her heart.

And it was only the first night.