Hera nearly fainted as she could feel the tip of the blade in the skin over her sternum. She glanced down at her tunic, stained a deep red around the knife. She made her breathing shallow, as not to drive the tip in further. Her eyes drifted over to Thrawn.
"General, where is your Rebel base?" he asked.
Hera choked back a whimper. "No... I... won't tell you," she said through gritted teeth. Her hands clenched into fists.
Thrawn reached for the control panel again and twisted something slowly. Not a second later, the knife began to twist, still partly submerged in Hera's chest. She could feel tissue stretch and tear and watched as the blood stain darkened and expanded more quickly. She suppressed the volume of her scream, which came out as a loud growl. The blade stopped at about 90 degrees.
"I will ask once again: Where is your Rebel base?" insisted Thrawn. He got up and stood calmly in front of her, his hands behind his back.
The burning pain of Hera's wound yanked tears from her eyes. She glared at Thrawn and sucked in air through her teeth. "No," she said firmly.
The admiral brought one of his hands up to his chin and glanced at the star map, then back at his prisoner. Her breast was colored a deep scarlet, moving up and down in quick, shallow breaths. His gaze slowly shifted down to her swollen midsection, remembering to be careful not to bleed her out. He walked back over to the control panel, pressed a button, and the knife retreated back into the ceiling. Hera let out a sigh of relief and took several deep breaths.
"This is your last chance, General," said Thrawn.
Hera huffed. "I will never give it away." She gazed at Thrawn defiantly.
Thrawn maintained his eye contact as her glare grew more intense. "Are you sure?" he asked before he pulled out a datapad from his pocket. He pressed his finger near the top of it, and a pulsing drone came from behind Hera. The sound grew louder as it approached her left side.
Oh, no, Hera thought. Not the interrogator droid. It came to rest a couple meters in front of her.
"Sure as death."
"Have it your way, then." Thrawn slid his finger from the bottom to the top of the datapad, causing the interrogator to move closer, its needle pointing toward her. The needle was centimeters from her neck as Hera relaxed her muscles. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pinch, but then squeezed them shut; the needle was much bigger than she'd expected. It seemed as if she could feel each layer of flesh give way as the needle made its way to one of her main arteries.
Once the droid was done pumping drugs into her system, it slowly removed the needle from her neck. The whole left side of Hera's neck pulsed a few times before she began to feel lightheaded. The sound of the droid seemed to grow quieter and lose its depth. She looked back up at Thrawn, still standing before her. He moved his mouth and made noise, but Hera couldn't tell what he was saying.
"What'd y'say?" slurred Hera, squinting her eyes, trying to focus on Thrawn. It was suddenly very bright in the room.
"I said, 'Care to tell me where your Rebel base is?'" he answered.
His voice seemed flat and metallic, and Hera only realized what he said a second after he said it. Her forehead began to feel as if someone were pressing hands against it.
"My base?" Hera chuckled quietly. "No, thanks."
Thrawn sighed. "Syndulla, I grow tired of asking: where is your Rebel base?" he asked intently.
"It's... in the-"
She felt the baby stir and looked down at her belly. You'll be okay, love, she thought. She wished Kanan were there; now was the time when she needed him most.
Wait a second...
"Thrawn... what'd you drug me with?" Hera asked with a concerned tone. "Will it hurt my baby?" Her eyes widened a little.
"Not to worry, General," answered Thrawn. "I gave you such a low dose of Rynalka X that it should bring no harm to your child."
"Should?" Hera scowled. "Y'mean there's a chance?!" she shouted, her concern quickly turning to anger. Her words didn't feel like her own. They seemed to all come together after she said them.
"A miniscule chance," Thrawn said.
"How dare you," snarled Hera, "for putting Kanan's baby at risk. And I swear I won't tell you anything."
"Very well, then." The admiral unlatched his comlink and spoke into it. Hera had no idea what he said, but before she knew it, she was being taken out of the chamber, handcuffed, and held by a stormtrooper at either of her shoulders. She tried to shield her eyes from the brightness of the hall, but her hands were locked behind her back.
They approached a short hallway with a series of doors. The troopers opened the first one, unlatched her cuffs, and shoved her inside the tiny cell. They tossed in a neatly folded stack of orange fabric before shutting the door.
Hera walked over to the pile of orange and slowly bent down to pick it up. It had numbers printed on it: 024-601. She stood up and tried to ignore her back tightening, then held up the prison uniform in front of her.
Perfect. It's even in the right size, she thought and chuckled a bit.
The Twi'lek woman began to remove her blood-stained clothing and set it on the bench beside her. The knife wound was still bleeding profusely. She wadded up the sleeve of her shirt and pressed it to her chest. She sat on the bench in her undertunic for a while, further staining her shirt while applying pressure to her wound. She wondered if the Empire ever did laundry.
Once the bleeding had slowed down and the effects of Rynalka X had mostly worn off, Hera folded her undertunic into a band she could tie around her chest and under her shoulders. Then, she began putting on the orange prison uniform. She was nearly finished fastening it in the back when she heard something. She listened for it again while adjusting the front of the uniform, but she heard nothing. A few seconds later, very quietly, she heard three taps against the wall of her cell.
Andrexis, Hera remembered. She listened carefully to the soft noise and began to translate.
A... R... E... Y... O... U... O... K... A...Y... ?.
She placed her left hand gently on her belly and brought her right hand up to the wall.
I hope so, Hera answered. Got stabbed.
Heard screaming, Andrexis tapped.
Tell you about it later. Hera yawned. Going to nap.
There was no more tapping from Andrexis. She sat down on the bench, swung her legs up on it, and laid down on her right shoulder, using her bloody clothes to cushion her head.
A few hours later, Hera was roused by the sound of her cell door opening. She raised her head and sat up, staring up at the two troopers.
"Come on," one ordered. "It's time for your midday meal."
Midday? Hera thought. I was about to eat my evening meal before I got captured. How long did I sleep? I must still be on Yavin 4 time.
She got up and followed the troopers and the other prisoners out of her cell and down the long corridors. She glanced over her shoulder at Andrexis, who was looking straight ahead. His brown eyes darted over toward her for a split second by the time Hera had looked away; her attention was dragged to the strange, fur-covered humanoid a few rows in front of her. He reminded her of Zeb, to some extent, with his large pointed ears on the sides of his head and his backwards-articulated legs. She could hear his claws click on the metal floor each time he took a step.
They reached the mostly empty dining area, with only a few other prisoners scattered at different tables. Hera recognized some of them from her prison shuttle. The stormtroopers corralled her unit into a single-file line as it waited at one end of the serving table.
When she was finally close enough, Hera grabbed a tray and began walking slowly down the long table, casting an eye over the uncovered containers of food. There was a worker at each, scooping out meager portions and putting them onto the other prisoners' trays. She stopped at the first worker, stationed at a container of protein patties. He placed one of them on Hera's tray before she moved on to the next server.
Reminds me of secondary school, Hera thought as a scoop of some sort of root vegetable paste was placed on her tray. She continued down the line and reached an open crate of fresh...
Meilooruns! Hera's face lit up. My favorite! She put one next to her drink and scouted out a place to sit. She selected a seat near the end of a table close to the edge of the room. She began eating the protein patty first, saving the meiloorun for last. Andrexis saw her and made his way over to her table.
"May I sit here?" he asked.
"Sure," Hera answered. He sat down opposite from her.
"Andrexis," he introduced himself. "Just Drex for short." He held out his right hand over the table.
Hera took it in hers and shook it, figuring out that she was only pretending to introduce herself. "I'm-"
"Hera Syndulla, I know."
"Nice to meet you, Andrexis."
"Your name is everywhere on holoboards and in advertisements. Congratulations, by the way."
"Thank you," replied Hera. The thought of the entire galaxy knowing about her pregnancy was a little disturbing.
They ate for a short while, not conversing. The furry humanoid they saw earlier approached the end of their table. His long, dark brown dreadlocks rested on his chest and his golden-yellow eyes with vertical pupils darted across the room. His caramel-colored fur shook when he walked.
"Greetings, General," he said in his deep, gravelly voice. His mouth and nose moved like an animal's when he spoke.
Hera, a bit taken aback by his regal appearance and knowledge of her title, smiled awkwardly. "Greetings."
He held out a clawed, striped paw. "I'm Kna'tzhuk."
"Hera Syndulla." The rough pads on his paw felt entirely different from Zeb's. She could feel him being careful not to puncture her skin with his long, black claws.
They took a pause to eat some more before there was a shift in the conversation.
"General, you have a ship, right?" Andrexis asked in a low voice. He hoped his words would be masked by the other prisoners conversing.
"Yes. My crew has it, hopefully."
"Is there any way you could contact them?"
Hera sighed. "No. The troopers destroyed my comlink."
"That makes it a little harder," said Andrexis. "How well do you know your way around a Star Destroyer?"
"Pretty well; I've been on several." Hera picked up her Meiloorun and slowly took a bite, savoring the sweet juice which overwhelmed her tastebuds.
"So you would know that there's a docking bay relatively near the interrogation chambers?"
"Yes. That's the one that we came in."
"That's our best possible way of escaping. The only problem is the amount of security on that stretch of the corridor," stated Andrexis.
"If, somehow, one of us were to create a distraction, one big enough to draw security away from their posts," Kna'tzhuk began, "We would have a chance to run through unnoticed. Almost."
"And what if they do notice us?" asked Hera.
"Then we run as quickly as we can to the docking bay," replied Kna'tzhuk.
"They'd just alert forces in the docking bay. We'd be done for."
"What if I stole an officer's uniform from the laundry room on the same floor?" said Andrexis. "I could pretend to escort you to one of the shuttles."
"That could work," said Hera, "But there's a chance that the shuttle would be transporting troops, not prisoners."
"Then what exactly are we going to escape the Star Destroyer with?" asked Andrexis.
"Our best bet is a TIE fighter."
"Can you even fly one of those?"
"If I can fly a freighter like an A-wing, I can fly a TIE fighter."
