<div style="text-align: center;"><a class="postlink" href="http://i52.tinypic.com/eraccz.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Name:</span> Zilah DronstrÃ¶m<br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Age:</span> 27<br/><span style="font-weight: bold">Home Planet:</span> Sterope II</div><br/><br/><br/><ul>She'd had better days.<br/><br/>Somewhere between the shrapnel lodging itself into her stomach, and the sea of bullet casings that washed over her feet, Zilah amusingly thought of home. It was a planet of perpetual sunlight. Her mind danced around the thought of the sweet flowers whose perfume made the air rich, and the silk dresses that her mother had worn. Maybe today she would die. A trail of blood trickled from her wound, as with the remainder of her strength, the female swung around and unloaded every last bullet on the oncoming security androids that seemed to be coming in droves. Somehow, she had anticipated this being a lot easier.<br/><br/>When her gun became useless, she threw it at them with all of her strength and pulled out the two handguns at her hips. Her shots became more precise now, her feet carrying her backwards towards her ship -- towards safety. The muscles of her arms ached from the force of the weapons, but it was the least of her concerns.<br/><br/>Miraculously, she finally made it into the small ship, and watched as the doors closed her in. The shots continued to ring out, but Zilah ignored them now moving to the front and pressing buttons and pulling levers, attempting to get the hell out of this planet as fast she could. The inner belly of the ship rumbled loudly, and soon enough she was thrust forward. Gasping for air, the female flicked on the autopilot light and collapsed against her chair, eyes glancing down gingerly at the wound in her stomach. <span style="font-style: italic">Fucking droids</span>. Her jeans had been stained red with her blood, the blue turning purple. Somehow, she found it within herself to pull the piece of glass out, the air sucked out of her lungs. The first instinct was to scream out a stream of curse words but in her white hot pain, she couldn't find her voice. <br/><br/>Pressing a hand against the blood to stop the blood flow, brown eyes closed in defeat. The world had began to spin, faster and faster, until...<br/><br/>She was dead. She <span style="font-style: italic">had</span> to be.<br/><br/>The sound of the impact was so loud and the force so great that her body was thrown out of the rotating chair, and landed a few feet away. A new pain seared through the woman's body and all she could do was gasp out for breath as everything fell still. From her position she could see the other ship out of the window and cursed the damn auto pilot program for being utterly worthless. <br/><br/>It wouldn't be long now. From the looks of it, the ship was one of the Corps', meaning Zilah and the artifact she'd tucked away safely in her ship were done for. There was no use fighting given her current state, and bitterly the woman pushed herself to her feet and stood by the entrance, waiting for the sound of the two ships grinding into place, before she pressed the release button and watched the doors open.<br/><br/>Even through the pain, she managed a smile, somehow finding hilarity in the situation. It had been a good run.<br/></ul>