No. She wants to continue the mission

Sabine considers her 2 options. She can either ride back to base completely naked and give everyone in the New Republic Hangar a good look at her naked body along with anyone she passes on the speeder. Or... she can continue the mission and hope she can get some clothes along the way.

Sabine: “I’m... functional. Storm kicked my ass, scattered some gear, but core systems are operational.”

There was a pause on the line. Hera didn’t sound convinced.

Hera: "Sabine, that was a ground-carver. Return to Base Alpha now. We’ll rerun scans from orbit, prep another recon—"

Sabine: “Negative, Ghost Actual!” she barked, too fast. “I’m right on top of that Imperial signal.”

Another silence.

Then Hera: "...Understood, Spectre Five. Repeat orders: Confirm depot location for orbital bombardment ONLY. Do not engage. Relay coordinates and RTB immediately."

Sabine: “Copy that. Spectre Five out.”

She turned the comms panel off.

She couldn’t go back. Not like this. Not with her tits out and pussy soaked and covered in sand. Not to a full New Republic settlement.

Sabine: I’ll raid that depot. Strip a corpse if I have to. But I’m not showing up to Base Alpha like some fucking naked idiot.

Sabine stands trembling, every inch of her exposed body slicked with fine sand. Her tight, athletic frame—honed from years of battle—shudders against the sudden cold. Her bare breasts heave, soft but firm, nipples stiff and aching from the air and lingering arousal of the storm’s touch. Her thick, shapely thighs shift uncomfortably as sand clings to every crevice—her pussy still wet, swollen and sensitive.

Sabine: "Kriffing hells..."

she muttered. Practicality warred with the raw vulnerability of standing utterly bare under the moons. She had to move, but she couldn't arrive at the Imperial depot looking like a powdered pastry. And the grit... especially there... was unthinkable.

She started methodically, forcing her hands to move to clean herself up.

Her palms smoothed upward over her ribs, gathering the cool, velvet-soft sand. The friction countered the deep chill for a second, sending a surprising shiver of sensation – almost pleasure – through her core as her palms passed over her own soft curves. Her nipples, already tightened pebbles by the cold, grew impossibly harder under the touch. She swept the sand away, her thumb brushing one peaked tip almost inadvertently as she cleared the delicate underswell. A sharp intake of breath. Focus. Sand fell from her skin like pale smoke.

Her hands then moved down her lean flanks, sweeping trails across her hips and down the powerful curves of her thighs. The sand offered only the softest resistance. Long, firm strokes cleared her legs of most of the sand, revealing the smooth, goosebumped skin underneath. The cold air stung instantly on the newly exposed patches. She bent, agile despite the cold and the situation, sweeping hands down her calves to her ankles. Every pass of her hands highlighted the toned musculature.

Next was her most intimate are...She parted her stance slightly, the pale expanse of her inner thighs glinting under the moonlight. Her fingers, trembling slightly now more from cold than embarrassment, swept firmly through. The fine granules yielded instantly to her touch, a surprisingly intimate friction against her soft folds and mound. It was brisk, efficient, utterly focused – clearing a potential distraction – but the sheer sensation of her own touch in such a **** area sent another uncontrollable, deep tremor through her. Clean. Finally.

Straightening with a gasp as the icy air assaulted her, she braced herself. Two quick, forceful jumps landed solidly on the packed dune floor, the muscles in her legs and taut abdomen rippling visibly. A hard, full-body shudder followed – a ripple starting at her shoulders, rolling down her spine, through her hips, down her legs – shedding the last clinging sand like a creature emerging from primordial dust. Fine particles cascaded off her back, shoulders, and the perfect curve of her lower back and ass.

Finally, she raked slightly gritty fingers through her sweaty, sand-laden hair, pulling it away from her face. She gathered the messy strands and tied them back into a tight, practical knot, revealing the elegant curve of her throat and the sharp line of her jaw, now set with grim determination. Her movements were sharp, efficient, the warrior reasserting control.

She stood naked under the alien stars, skin flawless and moonlit, flushed pink from the cold and the raw touch of her own hands. Her hard nipples standing out starkly against the chill. The Imperial base waited, offering the only possible shelter and cover in this hell.