Unknown Region of the Galaxy
2300 hours
Every damned corridor looked the same. Paneled sheets of durasteel lined the walls in a cold metallic mockery. The sirens had gone off a long time ago; precisely the moment the prisoner had rid himself of the dark cell. It was a long whining, eerie and relentless sound. The attempts to seal him up in the detainment hall had been successful. However, they never ever thought to look in the air ducts until later. And that was precisely where the prisoner had gone.
CT-9942 crawled through the air ducts out of the detainment sector. It was his only hope of merely escaping the lower levels. Fortunately for him, his captors had not removed his body glove or his armor. They had left it on him since it did not hinder any of their 'experiments'. He was glad he still had his armor. It offered small means of protection. Without it, he felt naked and vulnerable. The clone gave a small shudder and stopped moving as a figure passed below. His breath halted and he crouched into a small unmoving form in the duct. It was one of the doctors that was walking below. He knew the doctors were not ones for fighting, but yet he held his position. He had worked far too hard to get to this point. He refused to allow it to go to waste by attacking the doctor, who would merely press a button on his wrist, and he would be swarmed. The doctor was dressed in a dirty beige apron. On all of their heads, they wore a plain tan helmet that allowed no one to look in. The fact that their faces could never be seen was the most unnerving piece. And they almost never removed their surgical gloves.
CT-9942 realized he was trembling slightly as he regained his senses. Slowly, the doctor below moved off into another section of the wing. The clone sighed softly in relief and rose back on all fours to continue crawling.
The air ducts were quiet and cold. It indicated one positive thing for his situation. It meant they didn't know he was up there. If they did, he surmised heads would be poking in and out of the grates looking for him; or they'd heat it up to the point where he would be forced to jump out and reveal himself; or even worse…they'd close the vents and gas the ducts, rendering him unconscious.
Eventually, CT-9942 was led to a dead end in the duct. Haar'chak. He swore in Mando'a. A grate lay beneath his body. The clone leaned forward to peer down into it. It led into a storage unit. He spied many materials necessary for sanitation. It'll have to do. He thought as he quietly began to pry off the covering. It was removed soundlessly much to his relief.
Slipping his legs down into the hole, he dropped down with a muted thud. The door was to his left. The clone rose up and slowly clicked the pad next to the door. It opened with a small whoosh sound. Still no droids…or doctors. Yes. Droids. He knew there were droids here. Many times he saw different droids patrolling the area around the prison.
The dark corridors around him were quiet and empty. I just need to find a transmitter of some sort. I'll send a distress signal to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. They're bound to get that!
CT-9942 crept down the hall. There were several doors on either side. At this point, he had no idea what awaited him. The clone took a hard breath and poked at one of the keypads beside a door. The door obeyed and swished open with the same whooshing sound. Behind door number one was…a small room with a huge wall of innumerable colored cords and dials. No…definitely not. The clone thought, and moved on. He made his way to the next door on the other side.
The clone paused and listened. Still, no sound reached him. Just then a shiver ran down his spine. The sirens had turned off. He didn't notice it before; or perhaps he had just gotten far enough away. Ignoring it for now, he pressed the second keypad. Behind this door were many glass cabinets, all of them containing drugs or needles of the sort. Moving immediately to the third door, CT-9942 nearly shrieked in fright when he heard shouts and a horrid snapping sound from the down the corridor. A light from far away turned on. Then all the lights in the corridor turned on as the angry voices grew closer. The clone stabbed the keypad and looked in, now desperate to find what he needed most. In the third room however, was only another drug storage. Damn, damn, damn! He panicked. Rushing to the fourth, the pounded the pad as heavy footsteps drew close. In the fourth room was a single metal table in the center with a long counter and overhead light. A surgery room. Dashing to the next, his head whipped about, terrified for the moment he would see the droids, or doctors…or a director come careening around the corner. The fifth door opened and revealed to him…Finally! A transmitter!
He flew into the room, closed the door behind him and began to power up the large holo transmission table. Work! Work! Please! From this room, he heard something with claws bounding down the hall. The table powered up lazily, as if completely ignorant of his situation. CT-9942 began rapidly pressing buttons, trying to send out a distress signal to the Jedi Temple's coordinates. He felt his legs shaking in fear of being caught. If he was, this would be the third time. After the third time, it was game over. CT-9942 bit down on his tongue as his finger jabbed the send button just as the pad for the door was pressed. The door slid right open, revealing the escaped clone. The clone screamed as a giant four-legged beast with sabers for teeth pounced him. The hound knocked him onto the ground and savagely began to tear at his throat, easily shredding it with a shower of blood. The screams died abruptly as the beast tore the prisoner apart, scattering a left arm to the side. Even so, the clone got his wish. He escaped this living Hell. And the other, the Jedi would soon know of this sadistic operation.
