Surrender

With The Rest

   "The sky is a neighbourhood, don't make a sound, lights coming up ahead, don't look now,"

As with every other morning, I wake with a shiver. The air is cool on my cheeks and it makes me want to bury further into the duvet, resurfacing for spring time, but there is no spring time here, not really.

Ishvenati is a cold planet, harsh snow and ice cover its surface. They say you have to be made of tough stuff to make a home and find a living among the Nati's and they weren't kidding. I sometimes wonder if its stupid stubbornness that's needed to stay here after living somewhere warm, something I certainly have an abundance of. I came here after my mother died almost 5 years ago, leaving my home planet for a place I heard was in need of fixers, of people like me. After mum was gone, I had no reason to stay, even the roses were gone. So it was time for me to go.

It's still dark outside as I shuffle around the cabin, sipping a cup of tea as I get my things ready for work. I work in a busy hospital, certainly more busy times with the First Order making it's rounds. I brush my long white blonde hair into a high ponytail, it brushing my waist as I dress. I haven't cut my hair, apart from the occasional trim, in 15 years. I look in the mirror before I go, tucking stray tendrils of hair behind my ears, the same bright green eyes my mother had blinking back at me. Soft full lips, pale almost translucent skin. A small beauty spot on my chin. I'm almost her double. I miss her more than words could ever say but then again, so do all who lose a good mother. In they eyes of a child, mother is god. I smooth down my white shirt and trousers, my body not slim, but strong, but definitely enjoys pasta. And garlic bread.

Checking my watch, I curse, realising my refusal to leave bed and thinking of hibernating has made me late. I shove my feet in a pair of black knee high snow boots, knotting them tightly before pulling on my black parka, pulling the toggles tight on the furry hood. Picking up my bag, i shove hard on the front door, fighting the screaming wind to get out and close it again, locking it up. This isn't even the worst of it, though the wind howls and the snow coats everything in white, we're only in early autumn. I've been snowed in more times than I can count in winter. Sometimes I'll stay in a hotel in town when I hear of a big storm. Climbing onto my custom Womper, a black and silver beast made just for weather like this, I jump hard on the kick start and take off towards the twinkling lights of the town, the first shades of light on the horizon in varying shades of blue.

The hospital is an old building, 2 basements floors, ground floor and 3 upper floors, its been around since the first war with the Rebellion and the Empire. Just like then, this hospital remains impartial, as is the job of a doctor and healer. We treat all, no matter what their beliefs. Or what god awful things they have done in the name of their cause. I say that but primarily we see Resistance fighters. I can't say I've ever seen a First Order brought in, but then again who would? They'd be killed on sight in the streets unless they came with a full fleet, which I highly doubt they would. Above all of this though, we're a hospital for the people, the little guys just trying to make a living and not become a casualty of war. The ones who stay at home with the kids.

Its relatively busy when I arrive, mostly the usual traffic from accident and emergency, bookings, appointments etc. Getting into the lift, I'm greeted by Anthony, one of the oncologists.

"Morning Rosaline,"

"Good morning," I say cheerfully and he smiles widely. He's nice, a Nati himself, pale blue skin and long white hair, braided down his back with soft brown eyes. He's a good looking guy, definitely turns heads when walking the floor. He's broad shouldered, a little on the short side, but still above me, around 5"6.