<div align="center"><strong>-=the stowaway – the cargo hold – the Gamble=-</strong></div><br/><em>They were coming back!</em>Snatching up her pillowcase luggage, the female stowaway slinked light-footedly upstairs to better watch the other survivors’ movements. Crouched in the shadows next to a stateroom on the port side, she knew several of the crew would be heading toward the infirmary and counted out heads as they passed underneath, trying to match names and voices to their physical descriptions. She’d seen the medic before when she first boarded – that familiar form and face was reassuring. With such a vulnerable looking person aboard who was clearly in a position of trusted authority, the stowaway didn’t fear for being jettisoned from the ship as much as previously. Talk of moving a crew member to a hospital made her wonder if the skiff was likely to be used for the job or their shuttle. The shuttle certainly made more sense than moving the whole ship, but after what just went down, she wouldn’t have trusted the local natives any more than spitting at a puddle would turn it into a lake. Prepared to drop back down atop the skiff at some point, she awaited her opportunity, watching, listening, absorbing.<br/><br/>The moment someone might come into view upstairs, she could duck through the hatch forward as if to access the bridge again, she could turn behind her into the stateroom that some crewmember surely used (and possibly get trapped, her memory-schematics told her), or she could use the half-stairs to stop on the workout platform like before. This position wasn’t defensible but it was great for escape routes.<br/>