"Alright. Open it up."
The tall Imperial officer stood stock still as one of his troopers carried out the order, stepping forward and pressing the button beside the cell door, then quickly stepping back to get in line with his comrades. The row of six soldiers- four in the white armour of stormtroopers, two in black uniforms- all stood with that same disciplined, straight-backed stance the officer was showing. Behind their stoic faces, though, each of them wanted desperately to be elsewhere.
The heavy cell door slid open, revealing... darkness. The prisoner must have disabled the light again. She always said it was the only way to amuse herself in there. The troopers waited. The officer stared into the shadows in the cell. Finally, just when it looked like he would have to send someone in to get the prisoner, she slowly emerged. The troopers were all secretly relieved that they wouldn't have to enter that room.
"Inu Bentarys?" the officer said. The questioning tone in his voice had been unintended, and the pause after the name was longer than he was trying to make it. Inu, like a predator sensing weakness, pounced immediately. "And who else would I be, commander? Is there someone else who has access to this cell? Besides, do you know someone else who looks anything like me?"
She had a point. Inu was six foot four with a slight hunch, hair that hung in a curtain of dreadlocks in front of her face and down her back, and a build that, had she been a bit hairier, might have let her pass as a small wookie. Indeed, she wasn't too far off the mark in that respect either, with four foot black dreadlocks messily piled into an approximation of a ponytail, meant to keep her hair out of her eyes, not to make her look better.
"It was not a question, miss Bentarys," snapped the officer. "I've been ordered to escort you to the warden, and before you get any ideas, yes, I am authorized to use any necessary force. The warden knows full well how dangerous you are, miss Bentarys. You've made quite a reputation-"
"Yes, fine," Inu interrupted, offering her crossed hands. "I've been wanting to have a chat with him." This was unusual. Bentarys did indeed have a reputation in the prison, and in the past she never cooperated this easily. She had been stunned more in her first ten days on Palir Station than most of the inmates managed in their entire sentences. Still, the troopers were going to take advantage of their good fortune. As the other four troopers kept their guns carefully trained on the huge woman, two of the stormtroopers stepped forward, cuffed her quickly and nervously, despite her apparent complacency, and then took up escort positions as the procession started off down the hallway. The troopers all kept at or beyond arm's reach, and shifted back to a defensive line as soon as they finished the short walk to the warden's office. "Step inside, miss Bentaris," said the officer crisply. "It's best not to keep the warden waiting." "Oh, believe me, I know." Inu looked down at the officer in amusement. "Oh, and by the way," she added, as the door opened into the office, "I'd appreciate it if you could fix the light in my cell. I know it's a hassle, but it is Imperial policy, isn't it?" She raised her cuffed hands, gave the officer a little finger wave, and walked through the mechanical door, which closed automatically behind her. "No hassle." muttered the officer once she was gone. "The first fifteen times, that is."
Inu had to duck to get through the door. Palir Station wasn't particularly spacious, and she was quite a large woman.
"Getting called up to the office, am I?" she said as the door closed behind her. "Reminds me of school. They always thought I was a troublemaker there, too." The warden, a thickset officer with grey hair, looked up from a screen on his desk. "They were almost certainly right. Search her." Inu stood still as a black-uniformed trooper stepped forward from his place by the door and waved a sensor in front of her, before giving her a quick pat-down. "What, do you thing I've smuggled something in? How would I have done that? I've been locked in my cell for the past twelve days, and there would have been no way to get something onto the station without you knowing anyway." She waited another couple of seconds, then the trooper stepped back, gave the warden a nod, and returned to his position against the wall. Looking around, Inu noted six troopers around the room. Hm. They were increasing security. Last time there had only been four.
"So why am I here?" she asked after another moment of standing quietly in front of the warden's desk. "You're being transferred," he replied simply. "Next time the freighter arrives, in another four days, you and five other inmates will be put aboard it and sent to another installation." "Why aren't the other five here, then?" "I'll be processing them seperately, as I don't want to put you in a room with potential allies. I decided it could result in some of my troopers getting injured, and no one wants that." "Except for me." She said it pleasantly, smiling down at the warden. It was like she had just said she enjoyed picnics, rather than telling him that she would like to maim his subordinates. Smiling just as mildly, he replied in kind. "Touché. But we can't always get everything we want, can we?" "So where am I being transferred to?"
The warden's smile suddenly became considerably more nasty. "Kessel."
Inu's throat tightened involuntarily. That was almost a death sentence! "I thought, warden," she said, carefully measuring her words, "That I was too dangerous to work in the spice mines." "Well, they changed their mind. They are in need of individuals of you physical strength. And I'm glad to have you off my hands. But believe me, miss Bentarys, they are much less accommodating there. I'd advise against breaking the lighting panels during your stay there." He smiled again, and made a dismissive gesture.
Inu suddenly felt anger boiling in her chest. But no. She pushed it down deep. She could get out of here without that, but if she let it take over, if she fought and they had to drag her back to her cell, they might find what she had inside. The maintenance people weren't a problem, as they would just focus on the light and not notice anything else, but if a trooper came in...
She inclined her head slightly to the warden, then turned and exited the office. She would get them back for this soon. Very soon.
The roar of his engines. The feeling of being pushed back into his seat by the acceleration. The shriek of his cannons. An alarm sounded, shrill and urgent, and he reacted, throwing his fighter into a roll. A flash of green, then another and- BLAM! An explosion from just behind him. A button press, and his ejector seat flung him out of the cockpit, just in time to see the fighter blown to shreds by anther green laser blast. Then silence. The TIE fighter fading into the distance, still chasing the rest of his squadron. A searing pain in his left leg, a piece of shrapnel embedded in his flesh, opening a hole in his suit. He cried out in pain, then faded to silence again. Silence, and the flashing red warning light in his helmet. Suit breach, low oxygen. Suit breach, low oxygen. Suit breach, low oxygen...
Dakon woke up in a cold sweat and jolted upright. He hit his head on the bunk above his, but he didn't care. It was nothing to the agony in his leg. He stifled a curse, gritting his teeth against the pain, and waited for it to subside. It didn't.
Letting the curse out, he flipped the thin covers back, rolled up his pant leg and glared at the offending limb. It was bright red now, he noted. Well, at least it wasn't purple any more. Small comforts, but better than nothing. He rubbed his hand over the large, jagged, barely healed scar on his thigh and the pain started to decrease.
He heard a cough from above him, and looked up to see a woman's face peering at him from the top bunk. "Sorry," he grated out, still massaging his thigh and gritting his teeth. "Didn't mean to wake you." "No problem. That looks bad enough to warrant some leeway." She smiled good-naturedly and said "So, how'd you get that anyway? You were pretty quiet earlier when they put us in here." "Got it when a TIE shot my y-wing down." "Ooh! You're a pilot?" "Was one. Now I'm just a prisoner like the rest of us." "'Course you are. But let's keep our heads up, 'kay?" Dakon nodded absently, and the woman seemed pleased. "Great! Give me a sec. I'm coming down." Her face withdrew, and her legs swung over the edge of the bunk, shortly followed by the rest of her as she leapt to the floor of the cell. She was short and lithe, a gymnast's physique, with dark skin and a tangle of unkempt brown hair. "So! What's your name, pilot boy?" she asked, grinning at him and sitting down on the edge of his bunk. "Dakon. You?" "Eris. Nice to meet you, Dakon." They had a short handshake, then she kept talking, grinning all the time. "So, y-wings. They have two pilots, right?" "Yes." "Is your gunner okay?" "Yeah. He got stunned in the explosion, but made it out in one piece. Better than I did." He gestured at the scar, then started to roll his pant leg back down. "Well that's good. So I guess you got picked up by an Imperial ship once the fighting was done?" "Yes. They barely got to me in time. All the nerves in my leg got exposed to vacuum, and I was almost out of air." "Well, look on the bright side! You didn't die, and you still have the leg. I'd call that a silver lining, wouldn't you?" "I suppose..."
There was a moment of silence, and then Dakon asked "Sorry, what was your name again?" The woman giggled. Dakon didn't think it was that funny, but she seemed pretty energetic, so he could see how she might find it amusing. "Eris. Eris Vyladian. And you'd best get used to me. I'll be your cellmate for the next five days, until this ship gets to Kessel." "I'm not going to Kessel. They don't need physically disabled slaves in the spice mines." "Oh. Okay, good for you! Where are you getting off?"
He frowned, trying to remember. He thought it started with a 'p'... "Palir station" he said at last.