Author's Note: I don't own Star Wars…just my characters.

On Level Three

His shot hit the first stormtrooper in the chest, and Jonathan swung his blaster to target the second, but the stormtrooper had dropped his weapon and raised his arms in surrender.

"Since when do stormtroopers surrender?" Marcus hissed, moving past Sgt. Knight and thrusting the muzzle of his blaster under the stormtrooper's chin. Jonathan waved the rest of his team forward, and they automatically set up a perimeter, blocking both entrances of the long hall. He holstered his blaster and stood in front of the captured trooper, folding his arms across his chest.

"At ease, Marcus."

Marcus jammed the blaster into the trooper's throat once more before backing off.

Jonathan leaned menacingly toward the stormtrooper, noting that the man looked thin beneath his armor. "What is this place?" he asked.

"Imperial Alien Research Facility, sir."

"Where are the prisoners kept?"

"The one you are looking for is on level three, section seven in the center block." The stormtrooper nodded down the hall.

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "How do you know who we're looking for?"

"She's the only one left."

Jonathan motioned for Marcus to keep an eye on the trooper and signaled to the rest of his men to circle in. He told them what the stormtrooper had said. They conferred in harsh whispers.

"Only one left?"

"Could be a trap."

"You think everything could be a trap, Jagger."

"What are we going to do with the stormtrooper?"

"We can't drag him along."

"Enough." Jonathan silenced his men with a withering look. He turned to a sandy-haired human. "Doug, you're hacking into the first computer terminal we find. I want to know exactly what we're walking into. As for the stormtrooper…" He strode over to where the trooper was being held at gunpoint by Marcus. With a swift uppercut, he knocked the prisoner unconscious. "We'll deal with him later."

"Everyone's been summoned to Block 4—we shouldn't meet any resistance getting to the girl. The stormtrooper didn't lie, a human female named Amara Richards is being held on level three, section 7 in cell 314A."

Jonathan heard the hesitation in Doug's voice. "But…?"

"That section is closest to the head doctor's personal quarters and a research command center of sorts. It's possible there will be someone there. We'll need to take them out first before they can harm any of the prisoners."

"So there are other prisoners?"

"Hundreds—only a few are registered as deceased."

"That'll complicate matters." Jonathan leaned over the man at the computer's shoulder, looking at the schematics of the Imperial Alien Research Facility. "Who's this head doctor?"

"Dr. Lucius Rave, has a lot of Imperial honors for his research into 'inferior alien anatomy.'" The picture of a middle-aged man with blond hair that fell past his cheekbones and smiling ice-blue eyes appeared on screen.

"So he finds new and improved ways to torture and kill."

"Sounds like a nice guy," Marcus said coming up to look at the screen, "looks like a nice guy too."

Jonathan shoved Marcus away. "All right, Doug, blind the security on level three and our route there. While you're at it, confuse the Imps as much as you can—cause a little chaos. Marcus, keep your mouth shut. Beloda…" He waved the Klatoonian over. "I want you to stay here with Doug and Jagger. Once Doug's done…follow us."

Beloda nodded, clutching his blaster's grip reflexively.

"The rest of you," Jonathan said, raising his own blaster, "follow me."

Dr. Lucius Rave leaned farther back in the uncomfortable office chair and rested his feet on his sterile metal desk. So the rebels had finally discovered IARF—it'd been fun while it lasted. He grinned at the holovid he was watching: one of the vids he'd taken while raping Amara—there were dozens in her file, but this one was his favorite. It was from when she still fought back. He had already destroyed most of the files on his experiments and rehearsed the speech he would give the invaders: how he had been forced to torture those poor creatures lying dead in their cells, how he'd tried to save them and been threatened with death. He didn't see the Sergeant standing in the doorway.

Jonathan Knight stood frozen for a moment, stunned. He'd heard screams and sounds of a struggle coming from the room, and now he saw it was just a vid of a girl being raped. He controlled the urge to shoot the man watching it. Dr. Rave noticed him and instantly flipped off the vid. He stood and raised his hands, a smirk touching his lips.

"Poor girl," he said, "lovely too. Come to rescue her or for a free ride?"

Jonathan could feel the bile rising in the back of his throat. The sanity in the doctor's eyes chilled him to the bone. He aimed his blaster at Dr. Rave's head.

"You look like an honorable man," Lucius sighed, "You wouldn't shoot an unarmed man who surrendered would you?"

But Jonathan didn't get a chance to answer. Marcus strode past him into the room and bashed the butt of his gun into the doctor's face. Dr. Rave crumpled to the floor. "Fucking sick-o."

Jonathan stared at the unconscious doctor, then told Marcus to guard him and turned on his heel and strode out of the room in the direction of the cellblock. He was beginning to think they weren't going to find hundreds of prisoners. He was right.

The stench hit him even before the door to section seven slid open. The cells stretched one hundred meters before him on his left and right. Most of the cells were filled with corpses in different stages of decomposition: Wookies, Rodians, Mon Cals…all dead. They looked like they'd been starved to death. The youngest member of his squad, a skinny kid they called Stick, threw up. Jonathan concentrated on finding cell 314A. When he finally did, he had to bite back the curse that rose to his lips.

A girl, no more than a skeleton, lay stretched on her side on the cell's floor, naked and covered in ugly bruises. Her waist-length brown hair hid her face—the only sign that she was still alive was the shallow rise a fall of her chest.

"Holy shit," one of his men whispered. Jonathan blasted open the lock. The girl didn't move. He went in a knelt beside her. Gently slipping his arms beneath her frail body, he cradled the girl to his chest and brushed the hair out of her face. He drew a shuddering breath. It was the girl from the holovid. Slowly, he stood with her in his arms. She stirred and mumbled something.

Jonathan barely heard the soft, venom-tinged words: "Fuck off."