The door hissed open, and light poured inside the dark room. Santarr raised his head to look up at his visitor. Blood ran down from his forehead, and into his eyes but he saw a tall figure standing in front of him, eclipsing the bright beam of light. For a few heartbeats, the figure just stood there and Santarr thought he was hallucinating again. Then the figure moved forward, and the doors slid back, cutting off the light and plunging the room into darkness once more. Santarr looked at his visitor's face, and met the red-eyed stare. He forced himself to smile, but the pain that danced up and over his face turned that into a painful groan. Santarr's visitor, however, had no trouble displaying his amusement. Lieutenant Colonel Nir Fallas smiled, and crouched in front of his prisoner. He reached out with a black-gloved hand and caught a handful of Santarr's hair, jerking him back violently.
"Haven't you had enough, Santarr?" the Imperial asked him softly, but his whisper was full of malice. "I must admit, I am impressed by your…determination."
Santarr rolled his eyes down to look at the blue-skinned Chiss. This time, despite the pain that nearly drove him to unconciousness, General Santarr smiled. He tried to speak, to make fun of all the Imperials' efforts to break him – but that was far too much effort. He only ended up spitting blood in Fallas' face, which wasn't such a bad thing after all.
Nir sighed as he raised himself back up to his full height. He leaned forward and tore a piece of fabric from Santarr's collar. The smile faded from his face as he wiped the blood off it. "I guess this will take a bit more time than I expected," he said coldly, turning to leave. The door hissed open again, and the Imperial Colonel gestured to someone outside Santarr's field of view. The Rebel General thought he heard the Chiss chuckle. "At least the cleanup crew will earn their pay," he said over his shoulder and left the cell.
Seconds spread to hours, minutes to days, hours to eternety. Once more, the door hissed open. This time, two heavily built men walked in. One of them reached for a panel at his side and brought all the lights in the cell to full. Santarr shied away from the blinding explosion of light, his eyes hurting as much as every other part of his body. He shook his head weakly, trying to clear his wits. When all slid back into focus, one of the newcomers was standing over him. The man wore a Sith uniform – the standard black Imperial uniform, with a cloak draped over his shoulders and dark blue fabric running down his chest, and stuffed into his belt, and spilling down over his legs. Santarr noted that a lightsaber hung from his belt. Santarr felt fear freezing his stomach.
It was true. The rumors were true.
The Sith have returned.
The taller of the two Sith sneered over him. "That's right, rebel scum. We have returned. And lucky for you, these Navy people won't have to keep sticking needles into you no more."
Santarr felt panic rising inside him, threatning to overwhelm him. "I…I'll tell you nothing!" he panted.
The tall Sith leaned closer, his scarred face barely inches away from Santarr's.
"Oh…but you don't need to tell us anything, rebel."
Inside his mind, Santarr felt ice cold fingers probing at his thoughts. He fought, tried to resist… nothing could stop them… they pried deeper… searching his mind… no, no… he won't let them…
Darkness fell over him, taking away his conciousness.
Total, utter darkness.