Waiting, Luke quickly learned, did not mean standing still.
With the crew still scattered across the city—some returning from family homes, others from temporary labour taken up in the Empire's weakened state—Hope remained docked in her quiet cove, untouched by waves or hands that truly knew her. Days might pass before the deck crew returned in full. Days when the ship would otherwise remain exactly as she was.
Luke didn't like that.
So when morning light filtered through the cave's openings and scattered across the water, he rolled his shoulders, looked at the ship, and made a decision that felt almost instinctive.
"Well," he said, glancing at Ilyrana. "She's not going to fix herself."
