Iron Heart

Chapter 1

After nearly two years of slavery in Wobani Imperial Labor Camp, Rina Degare was used to being escorted everywhere in binders and at blaster-point. Most of the hundreds of prisoners in Wobani received similar treatment—though an extra four guards always accompanied the most dangerous ones, Rina included, around the complex. That was expected by one of the galaxy's deadliest bounty hunters. What she did not expect, however, were the two black-armored troopers that came to retrieve her from her work station one dank afternoon.

She knew though, as soon as she spotted them exiting the turbo-tank that had transported them there, that they'd come for her. As a result, she asked no questions when her overseer called her number. Nearby prisoners glanced uncertainly in her direction, but she simply rose and walked over to the waiting troopers, allowed herself to be cuffed and led into the transport where two more troopers in similar armor were waiting, and was shackled, as usual, to a bench. No other guards accompanied them as they headed back to the main facility; four death troopers were equivalent to the eight to ten troopers that usually escorted Rina.

She'd been in the company of death troopers before; they'd been standing alongside her during her trial and brought her here after she was sentenced to this sludge hole. She supposed that she should feel flattered by their presence; she was the only prisoner here to receive such an elite guard. Yet after being assigned to the farms today and spending countless hours tilling the rocky ash-colored soil and weeding and pruning the crops, earning nothing but cuts, blisters, and lower back pain, the sight of the troopers hadn't improved her mood. She had no idea what they were doing here; there was no way that she was being freed. But she could still be removed…permanently.

Despite the stifling heat of the tank, Rina felt a chill run down her spine, and her bound hands began to shake. There was the very real possibility that she was finally being led to her execution. Had the recent scuffle she'd gotten into with other prisoners two days ago been the final straw? She couldn't see why a death squad would be necessary for such an affair though, unless one of them would be pulling the trigger themselves. There was no point in asking them where they were going or why; their helmets were specialized to scramble verbal communications, making any sort of dialogue incomprehensible to the casual onlooker. Even if that wasn't the case, they wouldn't acknowledge her anyway. Perhaps they didn't even know what was going on.

Instead, Rina focused on the space above the head of the trooper that sat across from her, avoiding the green lenses of their helmet and the way their gloved hands tightened threateningly around equally menacing rifles. These were elite stormtroopers, the best of the best, trained rigorously to protect important Imperial officers, to serve as special forces units, and in this case, to make sure that a trained assassin didn't get any ideas. They could not be easily spooked or intimidated as easily as the standard troopers were by Rina, but they would not hesitate to blow her head off if she gave them a reason to. One wrong move…

Up until now, Rina hadn't felt true fear in a while—hadn't allowed herself to. That was the only way to survive in an environment as unforgiving as Wobani was. Order and obedience were the priority at Wobani; everything else was left to die. When she woke up every morning, she repeated the same words: My heart and will are iron; they cannot be bent or broken ever again. For almost two years, those words had kept the fear at bay; they'd kept her from falling apart in the darkness of the mines, in the painful monotony of the farms and factories, and in the solitude of her cell every night.

As the entire trip passed in silence, save for the rumbling of the transport and the rattling of her chains, Rina found herself once again repeating this mantra over and over in her head. I will not break; I will not bend. I will not be afraid.

At last, they stopped, and Rina had to be yanked to her feet once she was unshackled; despite her private pep talk, her legs, much to her chagrin, seemed made of solid carbonite. Yet when two troopers forcibly grabbed her by both arms and attempted to lead her out of the transport, Rina pulled against them, rooting herself to the floor. A pretty rash move on her part, but she was not about to be dragged around like an animal. "I can walk on my own, thanks," she snapped, then swallowed tightly, her body tensing. Don't give them a reason, she scolded herself, noticing the other two troopers raise their blasters ever so slightly in warning.

To her surprise, the troopers holding her let go. They said nothing, but one of them bumped her none too gently in the back with their blaster, urging her forward. Though she did not appreciate the gesture, Rina was not willing to push her luck, so she obediently exited the transport with her back straight and her head held high. She hoped to maintain some air of dignity despite the grime and sweat that clung to her skin. On the rare occasion when she was allowed to work in the mines, she emerged with skin nearly as black as the armor of the troopers escorting her.

She longed to adjust her equally dirty clothing, but the cuffs prohibited such movement. She held in a sigh and settled with picking the dirt out from underneath her jagged nails as she was led toward the prison complex, one guard in front, one on her left and right, and the last one behind them. She could probably disarm one of them within seconds and maybe kill another with the rifle, but she predicted that that was as far as she would get before being mercilessly—and embarrassingly—gunned down.

Over the sound of their boots crunching loudly on the gravel, Rina could hear the noises she had grown accustomed to during her time here in Wobani: the thundering of more turbo-tanks as they transported prisoners to and from their assigned work stations, the groans and roars of machines in the mines and factories that spewed smoke into the already grey skies, the faint hum of the giant ray shield that surrounded the camp, and, if one listened closely, the moans of agony and cries of delirium and fury of the prisoners as familiar as the depressing work songs they sang in the fields . The occasional solo of a blaster shot added to the symphony of cruelty the Empire had created for its greatest criminals, rebellious citizens, and latest conquests.

These days, more and more rebels of various species arrived at Wobani. Some were members of the Rebel Alliance, but many were from the Outer Rim, from planets among which the Empire was solidifying its rule, strengthening its hold. Apparently, they had been too lenient—too negligent—in the past. That was until it had happened.

They entered the complex through layered durasteel blast doors without needing to receive clearance from any of the troopers guarding them; the sight of the black troopers and Rina was enough of a reason. Rina smirked when she saw the white troopers stiffen as soon as she came into view. Whether they were newly stationed here or not, she was certain that they knew—everyone here knew—about her little "stunt" she'd pulled a year ago.

When she was brought here after being sentenced, she had walked these halls. She had gone through a security classification screening and risk assessment, which in her opinion was completely unnecessary. She had already known that she was going to be placed in maximum security, which meant more guards and increased surveillance. She'd even gotten her own cell; it was standard protocol at Wobani to have two inmates per cell, but Rina and the other convicts she shared a cell block with were the exception.

This time, however, when their small party entered a turbolift and began to descend, Rina knew that she was not going back to her cell, as much as she would have rather gone there. She'd heard rumors about what went on in the sub-levels of the prison, and none of them were comforting. Prisoners who were taken there never returned. Was that where official executions where performed, or something much worse? Rina didn't know, but she had a feeling that she was going to very soon.

The small space they currently stood in was smaller than her cell and much more crammed. This would definitely not be the ideal place for Rina to attack, though she'd been in close quarters combat many times before. The scenario she imagined was similar to the one she'd thought of minutes ago—they both ended the same way. The walls of the lift were beginning to close in on her, and with each passing second, Rina found it harder to breath. Her palms began to sweat, and her knees began to shake. She was not about to have a panic attack, not here, not now, not ever. She just needed to get out of this—

Nausea twisted violently inside her when inertia caused Rina's stomach to lurch as the lift came to a sudden halt, nearly sending her reeling into the trooper on her right. She quickly gathered her bearings as the door slid open to reveal a long, narrow, and dimly lit hexagonal-shaped hallway that seemed to extend into darkness.

Rina felt numb as she allowed herself to be led out, her legs operating completely on autopilot. Save for the sound of their footsteps, the corridor was deadly quiet. They passed many doors that were built into the slants of the walls, making it look a lot like a detention area.

My heart and will are iron; they cannot be bent or broken. I will not break, I will not bend, she thought. My heart and will are iron; they cannot be bent or broken. I will not break, I will not—a scream suddenly pierced the silence, ripping Rina out of her thoughts. It was a terrible scream, one full of agony and terror. It was so raw and so real that Rina actually froze in horror. She looked around, trying to pinpoint where the scream came from, but she couldn't as the horrible sound echoed around the hallway. She began to tremble and her breathing became more labored as she felt herself succumbing to terror. Yes, she was going to die. Would anyone be around to hear her scream too?

She barely heard the door to her right slide open with a menacing hiss and didn't notice that the troopers had grabbed her and shoved her through the doorway until she found herself tumbling to the floor. Pain slammed through her face when she hit the grated floor, lights exploding behind her eyes. Her arms twisted painfully underneath her as her bound hands had prevented her from properly breaking her fall. She blinked back tears of pain as they welled in her eyes, and she gasped for air, the fall having knocked the wind out of her. She swore and hissed in pain as she attempted to twist over onto her back, to turn and yell profanities at the guards, only to discover that the door had shut.

"Was that really necessary, Commandant?" an unfamiliar voice laced with both boredom and amusement suddenly asked. It came from behind her. Snarling, Rina whirled around and was on her feet in an instant to face this new threat, despite how much her body ached and her head swam. It didn't matter if her hands were bound; she was still capable of breaking a man's neck.

Commandant Klaus Brennan, the director of the Wobani Labor Camp, stared at her as if she were something disgusting found on the bottom of his polished black boots. Rina's own lip curled as she snarled at the sight of him. Oh, it'd be nice to see his blood spray across the walls, to feel his neck snap between her legs. It was a shame that he hadn't been around the day she'd snapped. She would have enjoyed every second of bashing in his skull with that shovel, yet the only thing that stood between them now was a low desk that Rina'd have no problem clearing.

As if sensing her intention, Brennan cold grey eyes narrowed, and he brushed a gloved hand over the blaster resting at his hip. "Don't even think about it," he warned, his Core World accent making the threat sound more intimidating. Rina heard a couple of clicks behind her and glanced back to find that two troopers had indeed followed her into the room and hid in the shadows, and now they were making their presence known.

Rina grit her teeth and turned back to face Brennan. He was dressed in the standard Imperial officer's uniform: a neatly pressed grey double breasted tunic with a black belt cinched around the waist and matching trousers tucked into knee-high polished black durasteel-tipped boots. A grey command cap completed the look, along with the rank insignia plaque one the left side of the uniform that indicated his rank as a commander. The black gloves were probably added just for aesthetic purposes; the commandant was as vain as he was cruel. He would have been charming too if it weren't for the scowl that constantly marred his face. Rina wondered if it had always been there or if it was a result of him being put through the rotation that replaced the camp personnel every six years and ending up here. However, it took a cruel personality to run such a cruel place, and Brennan was perfect for the job.

"My, such ferocity! This is she?" It was that voice again.

Brennan nodded as Rina's attention finally turned to the man standing directly to the commandant's left. The first thing about him she assessed was his attire. He wore a uniform similar to the commandant's, except it was a pristine white that hurt Rina's eyes, forcing her to look elsewhere—his face.

It was not what she was expecting. She was struck by how young he looked; he could not have been much older than Rina was. It must have been due to the way he lacked the features synonymous with those of many Imperials that Rina'd dealt with over the years: the air of superiority, the selfishness, and the malice that always lay dormant beneath the surface.

When their eyes met, he smiled at her. He smiled. It was a polished smile, and reeked of Imperial academy-trained charm. But Rina couldn't help but notice the way it accentuated the dimples on his cheeks and somehow lit up his dark brown eyes…or the way it made her heart abruptly clench. Compared to the brightness of his uniform and his teeth, Rina was now strongly aware of her dirtiness. Suddenly, the young man's smile became impish, and when his brows rose almost suggestively, Rina belatedly realized that she'd been staring for too long. She quickly looked down as her face warmed, and the man laughed.

"Are you sure you about that, Commandant?" he chuckled. "I would think that a master assassin could not be as easily intimidated." This time, Rina's face heated in anger.

"I'm not frightened by the likes of you Imperial scum," she spat venomously. She nearly winced at the sound of her voice, hoarse from disuse and thirst, but she wasn't about to be humiliated by some ignorant prick who knew nothing about her. Gathering her pride, she tossed her braid behind her shoulder and looked the two men squarely in the eye. The man in white only stared at her, bemused.

"Then what does frighten you?" he asked quietly. "Death?" How threatening yet calm he managed to sound sent a chill down Rina's spine and turned her blood to ice. The silence seemed to stretch between them, Rina's heart pounding in her ears…until it was broken by the man's raucous laughter once more.

"Ha, got you again! You should have seen your face!" he cried, throwing back his head. Oh, Rina could almost see her face now, and if looks could kill, the man would have been dead ten times over. How easily she could make his laughter turn into screams.

She glanced over at Brennan, whose lips were pressed into a thin line, looking as somber as ever, if not annoyed. There was a noticeable contrast between the two men standing in front of her in terms of physicality and demeanor. Rina wasn't sure what she preferred, or more accurately, what she hated less: the outwardly cold but predictable persona, or the ostensibly charismatic but unpredictable one. Commandant Brennan was the conventional Imperial; his companion was not. Who was he?

When the man in white finally stopped laughing, he looked back at Rina. "My apologies," he said, though he didn't sound sorry at all. "That was rude of me; I'm supposed to be acting professional here." Commandant Brennan rolled his eyes. If the man in white noticed, he didn't react. Instead, he stepped forward, closer to Rina. "I am Agent Jaxon Creely of Imperial Intelligence, not "Imperial scum," as you so fondly called me," he added with another smile. That smile may have been attractive to Rina at first, but now it made her skin crawl.

Imperial Intelligence, the espionage service of the Imperial Military of the Galactic Empire. That explained the white uniform. Rina mentally slapped herself for not making the connection sooner; she wouldn't have reacted so strongly to his quips. It was all part of the MI's strategy to exploit their targets' weaknesses, to know what made them break. For all Rina knew, the charming (and irritating) personality that was presented to her was all a façade in order to disarm her, to make her trust this agent that stood before her, to make her more open to suggestion.

Was this going to be an interrogation? She didn't see the point of one, as she'd already been subject to one at the hands of the ISB, the sister organization to the MI—the much bigger and meaner sister to be more exact. They hadn't wasted time with niceties and grooming; she'd gone straight to the table. It was during that time that Rina was humbled by the fact that her own interrogation methods were child's play compared to what the ISB had in their bag of tricks. The worst part about it was that they barely had to say anything; the chemicals they had pumped through her body had done most of the work for them. The best part of it was that they had asked the wrong questions.

She was quickly brought back to the present by the sound of Agent Creely's voice echoing over the memories of her screams. "And you're Rina Degare, the second-best bounty hunter in the galaxy. Please," he added, gesturing to a chair facing the desk, "take a seat." Rina only stared at him.

His tone wasn't mocking, but his words still made Rina bite the inside of her cheek. Don't give him a reaction, she thought. He'd already figured out where to aim: her pride, and now he was only going to keep prodding. He wasn't exactly lying though; she was the second best bounty hunter in the galaxy simply because she'd been trained by the best. She was about eight years old when Boba Fett found her half-dead in the wastelands of Tatooine and took her under his wing. His training had given her the potential to someday become the best, given that she never got herself into a situation like the one she was currently in.

Agent Creely studied her tensed body before stepping closer. The light glinted off the blaster strapped to his belt. "I've heard some rather interesting stories about you, about the little adventures you've had over the years." He crossed his arms. "How do you find Wobani after leading such an exciting life?"

This time, it was her time to smile sweetly. "I couldn't be better off," she crooned as her nails cut into her palms. "It feels so nice to finally settle down and enjoy an early retirement. The staff is very accommodating as well." She ignored the way Brennan was glaring holes into her head.

"Hmmm, I see." Creely tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Did they happen to give you that nasty shiner you've got there?"

He was talking about her right eye and the bruised tissue underneath it. She was honestly surprised that he was able to distinguish the mark from the rest of filth that covered her face. There hadn't been much swelling, but right now, Rina wished there had so she wouldn't have to look at this ass of a man and his arrogant smirk. Before she could respond, Brennan finally spoke up.

"Two days ago, Degare had an altercation with three other inmates. It was her twenty-third," he added with a sigh. Seeing Creely's disbelieving expression, he decided to go into detail. "She has a talent for getting into petty brawls—though we thought we'd broken her of that habit a while ago." His tone was patronizing, and he was scowling right at Rina.

"I didn't start that one, or any of them for that matter," she retorted irritably, "I just finish them." She knew that was a lie. She could think of several fights that she had instigated. They were all for good reasons too—personal reasons. She stole a glance at Creely, who was staring at her with an expression of interest.

"It's a wonder that with all of this fighting, you've lasted this long," he said, looking her over again, "especially when the life expectancy here is what, less than five years?" he asked, looking over at Brennan for confirmation.

Rina shrugged. "It keeps me in shape, actually. I hope to break the record," she added with a smug smile.

Agent Creely, to her surprise, chuckled. "Is there no end to your arrogance? Has your sentence taught you nothing?"

Her little smile slowly turned vicious. "It taught me how to properly use a shovel."

The agent's expression changed at the sight of her smile. She could see it in the way his brow slightly furrowed, as if he were trying to puzzle out what she was implying. She relished in it. "You didn't hear about that little adventure, did you?" she asked him.

Creely looked quizzically at Commandant Brennan. "What 'little adventure' is she talking about, Commandant?"

Brennan looked like he would rather be anywhere else right now. "There was," he began tiredly, "an incident. One year after Degare arrived, she started a riot and attempted to escape in the chaos."

Creely frowned. "I wasn't told that."

The commandant's face was caught between a wince and a scowl. "It was a minor incident, sir," he reasoned. "Nothing new among the rabble here at Wobani."

"I beg to disagree!" Rina interjected. Had her arms been free, she would have crossed them dramatically in response to this slight. Brennon's gaze turned murderous. He opened his mouth, most likely to reprimand her, but Creely spoke first.

"And why is that?" he asked, his eyes glittering with both amusement and curiosity.

"I'd like to think that I'm superior to the common 'rabble.' I was, after all," she added rather drily, her smile fading, "generously spared."

"Spared?" Creely echoed.

Rina turned to look at Commandant Brennan. "Commandant," she began sweetly, "could you tell Agent Creely here what the penalty is for trying to escape Wobani?"

The commandant glared at her before speaking. "To attempt to flee Wobani is suicide." His voice was surprisingly grim. "Our soldiers are trained to kill on sight; there's no hope of escaping."

"But you're alive," Creely said, processing this information. The amusement was gone. "Why?"

Her eyes turned cold and hard as the memory struck her. "Those who sentenced me ordered that I was to be kept alive for as long as possible—so I could suffer every agony that Wobani had to offer." Another chill ran down her spine as she remembered the eyes of the man who had passed the final judgement; they were blue as ice and just as cold and cruel. "I had thought, however," Rina continued, "that they would have abandoned those orders as soon as I killed my overseer, followed with one guard and another, then another…" She'd killed a lot of people that day, thirty-one to be exact, before she'd been stunned. The open horror on the agent's face almost brought a smile to her own.

"But they didn't kill you." There was something else in his eyes besides shock, something that made his voice soft.

Rina shrugged. "I thought wrong." She wouldn't tell him that the others hadn't been so lucky. Those who had joined her and had not been immediately killed were rounded up—and she'd been forced to watch as the firing squad tore them apart.

The silence that followed was not her desired effect. Not even Brennan said anything. He was most likely remembering that day as well and how lucky he was to have been safe in his office. Rina shifted on her feet, suddenly very uncomfortable. She still might have said too much.

"You knew it was suicide," Creely finally said.

"Yes," she responded flatly. "I never intended to escape." The now identifiable pity in his eyes made her want to rake them out. But a moment later, it was gone.

"Well then," he sighed dramatically, clasping his gloved hands together in front of him, "I believe that answers the first question I posed to you. It appears that you do not fear death after all." The Imperial Intelligence agent exaggerated a pout, and Rina didn't know if it was genuine or a forced attempt to lighten the mood.

"You seem disappointed," she commented wryly as she cocked her head to the side. "Is that going to take the enjoyment out of my execution?"

"Execution?" Creely echoed. "Why would we drag you all the way down here just to put you down?" It was as if she were nothing more than a beast of labor that was dispensable once it served its purpose. In hindsight though, that was essentially what many of the prisoners here were—expendable. In the eyes of the Empire, anyone was expendable.

"If not to interrogate me, why else?" Rina countered. "I have nothing to give you; I'm of no use." She meant it too. She had no information on any rebel movements in the galaxy other than what she heard from new prisoners, and she doubted that it was news the Imperials hadn't heard already.

The sly smile that formed on Creely's face at that moment made her suddenly doubt the validity of her claim and sent a prickle of unease through her body. "That is where you are wrong." His tone was just as smug as his expression. He then turned to Commandant Brennan. "Leave us," he ordered, his voice now authoritative. Rina was still in awe of how he could change his demeanor as easily as a snake shed its skin. That, however, was what made him dangerous.

Commandant Brennan looked uncertain, if not downright shocked. He stared at Creely as if the man had gone mad. Perhaps he had. Did he not know the danger he was putting himself in? "Sir," he protested, "I do not think-"

"I said," Creely repeated just as firmly, "leave us. All of you," he added, nodding at the two troopers. "We won't be long."

Brennan quickly recovered his composure, assuming his mask of indifference and nodded curtly. "We shall be waiting outside then," he said. He shot Rina another withering glare as a silent warning and briskly left the room, the two death troopers trailing him like a deadly shadow. The door slid shut behind them with another deafening thud, and now she was alone with Agent Creely, who, having taken a seat at the table, appeared to be unconcerned by, if not ignorant to, the fact that he was literally sitting inches from death.

"Please," he said, gesturing once more to the empty chair across the table, "sit down. It'll make things a lot easier for both of us." She still didn't move, and his shoulders sank.

"Well," he sighed, "let's cut to the chase, shall we?" He leaned back and steepled his fingers. "You do have something that I want, something you can certainly give to me." He stared at her over his fingertips. "Your services."

A/N:

Hello everyone, I am back with a brand new story, one that popped into my head over the summer that I had to start! For those of you that have read my first story Life Among the Distant Stars, I have not quit on it, it's just that I got busy with school, both graduating high school and starting college, and now this story! I hope you all aren't mad at me, but I promise I'll get back to it eventually!

With this story, it might be the same way. I pretty much have already planned how I want this story to go, but I might only be able to update once a month or maybe once every couple months. That's what happens when you decide to major in biochemistry, I guess.

I decided to include a name pronunciation guide to help you all out! I also have a tumblr account if anyone's interested in following me or checking it out! Thanks!

Name Pronunciation Guide:

Rina Degare- (ree-nah day-gar)

Jaxon Creely- (jack-son cree-lee)