Cold. Plasteel, perhaps. Goose bumps played leap-gizka down her spine and the right side of her face, pressed against the cool floor, felt numb. She kept her eyes shut, and allowed her body to recover from sleep. As her blood began to heat her limbs, she suddenly wished that it wouldn't. Pain flooded her senses. Bruises, half-healed. There was a trace of unnatural lethargy in her veins. Medicine? More likely poison.
She moved her fingers, testing mobility. No extreme pain. However, she suddenly realized how sticky she was. And she stank of kolto. The environment came to her in pieces, and she slowly opened her eyes.
Where am I?
Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself off of the floor, and stood looking warily about her. She had fallen, clearly, from the open kolto tank behind her. That would be the cause of the pain in her chest. Bruised ribs, no doubt. And the pulsing in her head. Two tanks shouldered her own. Suspended in the healing liquid were mottled corpses, their veins visible through their milky skin and traces of foam hanging from their cracked lips. Poison it was, then.
"By the Force, there had better be a 'fresher in here." She contemplated to herself aloud, holding her dripping arms away from her body in disgust. There had to be one attached to this medical bay. Quickly, she surveyed the room, to find a computer panel in the corner. Ignoring the constant thud inside her skull, she sliced into the computer and checked the status of her tank-mates. Dead, though it did not give any details as to how they arrived at that state. She forged further into the computer's files, extracting a floor map. There was a refresher, located in a small room attached to the medical storage, one room down the hall and to the left.
In vain, she searched the containers in the room for clothes. The brown, dripping underwear she had on were less than flattering. Desperately, she hoped that she would find some in storage.
The doors functioned perfectly, sliding open as she approached and clicking shut neatly behind her. But the place seemed devoid of life. She heard no noises except the hum of machinery. As the shower door shut behind her, and the spray of hot mist hit her, she immediately felt the wrongness of this place. It was clean, well taken care of. Yet not a person in sight. Not even a droid graced the presence of the halls..
It wasn't even the place that bothered her. It was how she had gotten here. She could remember being aboard the Republic ship, taking care of the little bits of business that needed to be done. And then. Well. Nothing.
It was not characteristic of her to easily forget. Her acute memory had always been a bane of hers, but now everything except the immediate present seemed blurry and out of touch.
Having discarded the sticky mess of underwear upon her entrance to the shower, she was dismayed to find only a pair of dry panties and a supportive tank top in the plasteel crates. These things she remembered. These were hers.
"Good. Keep my lingerie. Not my pants, or even my robe. Clearly, undies are the most important thing to these people." Scowling, she pivoted on her heel to find herself face to face with a fogged mirror.
Her scowl softened as she took in her reflection. It was a sight that simultaneously tortured her and pleased her. It was a farce, though not one that she had put up herself.
Her azure eyes scoped out the damage her body had taken while her mind searched for answers. Where the hell was she? How the hell did she get here?
And then there was the voice.
Your answers lie where there is no life.