Being in command meant having to make the hard decisions.

Trudy knew that, but having to dishonorably discharge a talented pilot like Allenby still crawled under the collar and itched. Her shoulders took on a distinct slump as she walked through the hallways of the ship, mouth set in a hard line, going over the confrontation in her head. Could she have done anything differently?

Probably not. Allenby had been hell-bent on what she was doing and no amount of logic was going to dissuade her from flying down to the planet with just her Gundam and a small crew. Trudy was satisfied that she'd manage to stop her from getting herself and others killed... but the incident was a black mark on Starfighter Command and her ability to control her pilots.

These were the times that she hated her job.

Her boots hit the grass of Hydroponics and she made a beeline for the beer tree. She probably would have had better company at the Drunken Dragon, but company wasn't what she was after. Not right now, not after what had just gone down in the hangar.

Knowing this ship though, company would find her whether she wanted it or not.

Getting some shut-eye aboard this...plantboat presented more of a problem than Applejack had first guessed. How was she expected to just tell time? And without time, how did you know when to sleep, when to wake up, when your work was supposed to start and stop?
( Ain't got no rhythm anymore )
Applejack wanted to plan for that Ohm-bucking part some more, but the time to take on the darkness would come later. For now, the farm pony just wanted some sleep. Judging by the way she rolled, twisted, and huffed against the meat-couches in her current location, the only place with something that slightly resembled a starry sky, the time for sleep wasn't quite here yet.

"Consarnit, this just ain't working," she sighed. "How's a pony supposed to sleep on these things? A good bit of bedding's supposed to stay put."