Shereen awoke in a bed, which - considering her last memory was of being carried onto the ship - proved jarring. She stared at a ceiling made of seamless composite. She turned her head to the side and noted the same material for the walls. No sign of any windows nor even any art.
The bed she lay on had an astringent scent to it, the kind that indicated intense cleaning. No hint of floral fragrance or perfume. The sheet covering her was fairly utilitarian, not soft, not rough. Functional fabric.
As she moved, a twinge in her side reminded her of the injury she'd gotten from those animals. She went questing for the soreness on her side, no longer the throbbing agony she recalled. Her fingers met a bandage tied around her middle. Her naked middle.
It occurred to her that she was quite nud
