AN: Hello There! I'm loving all the feedback I'm getting! Its been giving me a lot of new ideas as well as helping me to improve the story (shoutout to 1saaa for the comment about breaking up the giant blocks of text). Thanks again for all the support!

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In the beginning, there was only pain. Pain so intense, it surpassed any sense of time. As he lay there, pinned beneath a large piece of rubble, an eternity passed. He could move a little, but even that caused pain. His clothing was nothing but rags, charred beyond recognition. It offered no protection from the sharp, rough rubble he was pinned against. He laid there, somewhere between life and death, where time had no meaning. Then there was a rumble. Dust fell from the wreckage and coated his parched throat. More rumblings had followed, getting closer and more powerful. After another eternity, the closest rumble yet occurred. A huge piece of wreckage was lifted away, pulling metal beam that had kept him pinned there with it. The darkness was replaced with painfully bright light, and the ceaseless rumblings were replaced by voices. It was surreal, and the last thing he had thought before unconsciousness finally overtook him, was that he was going to die.

Imperial Labour Camp

Kuat

Death would have been the preferred outcome. Even the most gruesome concepts of the afterlife would have been paradise when compared to where he was now. He had been taken into custody and rushed to a prison hospital after he had been discovered. Recovery had taken weeks and had been nearly devoid of interaction with any living being. He had been tended to by expressionless machines, or droids, as he now knew they were called. It had been a long and isolated two weeks. Now it seemed like heaven. After he had recovered, the interrogation had started. For another week, he had been held in a solitary cell, receiving multiple visits every day from a man who claimed to be an officer in something called the ISB. He hadn't been able to answer any of the officer's questions. He didn't even know his own name. He had suffered for every answer he failed to give.

A loud alarm startled him out of his reminiscing. The lights in the cramped cell flashed to life. The day had begun. He pushed himself up from the lightly padded cot, groaning as his sore muscles screamed in protest. He ran his fingers through his messy, light brown hair, trying to coax it into a relatively presentable state. He winced as his thumb brushed the long scar that ran from his chin, past his left eye, and up to his temple. This mark was from the collapse of the bunker in which he had been found. It was still tender to the touch. It wasn't without it's benefits though. It made him look tougher than the average five-and-a-half foot tall, sixteen-year-old human male. And considering where he was, he would take all the help he could get. With a click, the heavy metal cell door slid open, and he quickly exited his cell, making his way to the factory floor with the rest of the prison's occupants. Beings of all types pressed in as the prisoners were herded to their destination. He still hadn't been taught the names of half of the species he saw, but education had never been high on his captors' priorities. He was here to work, and supposedly make up for the crimes that he didn't even remember committing. It was a joke, and not a good one either. The warden had told him that he would be doing a great service to the 'Empire'. He didn't know much about the Empire as a whole, but if this prison was any indication, it wasn't something he wanted to do a service to.

The flow of inmates made its way into the large space that was the worker's ready room. They were each assigned to a different part of the manufacturing process and then sent into the factory. It was a dim, depressing, and dangerous place. The factory they worked in was fully dedicated to the manufacturing of the standard-issue E-11 blaster rifle. The prisoners were mostly responsible for building the metal structure of the weapon. They were required to sort and meltdown scrap metal and then pour the melted material into molds that would later be cooled. It was painfully ironic that they were helping to build the weapons that were constantly trained on them by stormtroopers in the overhead catwalk system.

He still didn't know his name, but his captors had quickly given him one, Inmate 7314. For months that was all he had been called. He would later receive another name from another inmate, "Aeron". The inmate, an elderly human male, must have mistaken him for a long-lost relative. At that point, he had been so desperate for a sense of identity that he had accepted it as his name, even after the old man had died from sheer exhaustion on the factory floor. Aeron had felt a pang as he watched two stormtroopers haul the body away, but he knew that he was all too numb to such occurrences. Beings died on a weekly basis. Most were old or sick, but too many were victims of simple accidents. Aeron had seen many prisoners die from falling into one of the melting pits that lined the front of the assembly line. Others succumbed to respiratory failures after breathing in too many fumes from various areas of the factory floor. Aeron had only survived this long because of his quick reflexes and young immune system. Death, however, seemed inevitable.

After six hours of hot, grueling labor, the prisoners were herded to the mess hall for a quick midday meal. This was possibly the most dangerous time of the day. The prison's rougher resident's often took this opportunity to cause trouble, and it was not uncommon for the entire mess-hall to erupt in the fighting. Aeron kept his head low, not making direct eye-contact with anyone as he waited in line to receive his rations. He took his meal of nutripaste and water to a table in the far corner of the room. No table was completely empty, but this one was usually inhabited by the least violent, or most apathetic prisoners. Aeron took a seat and began to suck on his tube of nutripaste. He was halfway through his meal when he heard a yelp from farther down the table. Glancing up from his food, he took in a scene that was all too familiar.

One of the most sadistic inmates, a one-eyed Nikto known as Scrap-Eye, was tormenting the prison's newest arrival, an adolescent Twi'lek male. Aeron looked back down. Scrap-eye wasn't trying to steal the boy's food, he was doing this for fun. Aeron went back to his food, his best bet was to ignore the situation, even if it made his blood boil. After a minute, he forgot about the scene at the other end of the table. Then came a louder, more desperate yelp. Despite his best efforts, Aeron's head immediately snapped up to look. The Nikto inmate had grabbed one of the youth's lekku and was now holding the Twi'lek in the air. The blue skinned being was now starting to scream as the pain of being hoisted up by his sensitive appendage overrode his desire to stay silent. Aeron now watched openly as Scrap-Eye slid a small sharp piece of metal from his sleeve and held it up to the Twi'lek's face. Aeron looked towards the guards, but they watched on, seemingly impassive behind their white helmets. Aeron fought to stay still, to stay silent. He knew that it was useless. He knew that his conscience wouldn't allow him to silently watch the Nikto torture the boy.

Aeron stood up, and made his way nonchalantly over to the Nikto. He didn't want to attract the attention of the guards or Scrap-Eye. Luckily, most prisoners were allowed to mingle during meals, so he had some crowded areas to hide his approach. Aeron approached the Nikto from behind, and tapped him gently on the shoulder. The Nikto's head whipped around, just in time for Aeron to smash his fist into Scrap-Eye's nose. The alien staggered back, dropping the Twi'lek and cursing Aeron loudly and fluently.. Aeron had a single moment to appreciate his handiwork, before a stun bolt took him from the side, and everything faded away.

Kuat Spaceport

Sabine was bored out of her mind. She usually had no problems keeping herself busy, but after a full week of being stuck on Kuat, it was becoming more difficult to keep her hands and mind distracted. The Imperials had reacted quickly to the attack on the starfighter factory and the destruction of the rebellion's bunker. Despite their best efforts, the Ghost crew hadn't been able to make it off of Kuat before the Imps had initiated a full planetary lockdown. From what the crew had been able to pick up on Imperial comm channels, there was at least five Star Destroyers in orbit to enforce the lockdown. So they had decided to lay low until the lockdown was cleared. They had been successful so far, managing to stay below the Imp's radar by bribing the port officials to keep them off the spaceport database. The lockdown hadn't been lifted yet though, and their supply of credits wouldn't last forever. So Kanan, Hera, and Ahsoka had started planning a distraction that would allow them to slip through the blockade. Of course, Sabine had yet to be filled in on the plan and it made her all the more restless.

She was currently sitting in her cabin, a drawing program open on her datapad. The screen was blank, she had not yet found any source of inspiration. After another moment of frustrating blank-mindedness, Sabine cursed and threw the datapad towards the closed cabin door. She then watched in horror as the door opened to reveal Ahsoka. With a speed born from training and combat-sharpenned reflexes, the Togruta female caught the datapad. Ahsoka raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

"I'm sorry Ahsoka", Sabine said quickly. "I let my frustration get away from me."

"It's alright", Ahsoka replied, tossing the datapad back to Sabine. "I often felt the same way when I was your age." Sabine sat up a little, Ahsoka spoke of her past so very rarely.

"Angry?",Sabine asked.

"Not necessarily", Ahsoka said, walking into the rest of the way into the cabin. "More like antsy. Itching for a fight, or just something to do." She sat down on the bunk next to Sabine. Emboldened by Ahsoka's rare openness, Sabine decided to ask something that she had been thinking about.

"Can I ask you a question Ahsoka?"

"Sure."

"Where were you when the Jedi Purge happened?"

Ahsoka paused before answering, her mood darkening slightly.

"Mandalore." She looked at Sabine. "Why do you ask?"

Sabine shifted, uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

"Well, Rex was telling me stories about how the two of you fought together all the way up to the purge, but you told us that you left the Jedi well before then."

Ahsoka gave a small smile.

"It's a long story but the gist of it is that the Jedi needed my help to fight a powerful adversary. They were spread thin at that point in the war,and I decided to help."

Sabine nodded, satisfied with the answer and making a mental note to do some more research on Mandalore during the end of the Clone Wars. Ahsoka stood, going from reminiscent to no-nonsense in the blink of an eye.

"We're having a meeting in the common room in ten minutes." She stood and looked at her chrono."Well, more like five minutes now. Would you let the others know?"

"No problem", Sabine replied. She stood and left the cabin behind Ahsoka and then turned down the corridor to the Ghost's cargo hold.

As she came into the hold, Sabine was greeted by the sound of clashing lightsabers. Kanan and Ezra were so caught up in their duel that Sabine was able to watch for a minute. The two clashed back and forth, attacking, blocking and counterattacking. Sabine had watched the two train before, and she knew that Kanan wasn't giving his all. Ezra on the other hand was doing everything he could to get past. His efforts, while impressive, were proven futile when he slashed out and over-extended himself. With incredible speed, Kanan grabbed Ezra's wrist and gave a sharp tug. Ezra, already off-balance, face-planted into the deck. Sabine snickered, causing both master, and apprentice to look up at her.

"We've got a meeting in the common room in...", she checked her chrono. "Three minutes. Attendance is-"

"Mandatory, yes, thank you Sabine." Ezra replied sarcastically as he pushed himself off the ground.

"Well look at that, you're learning." Sabine quipped.

"Not fast enough, apparently", said Kanan. He shut off his lightsaber with a hiss. "Thanks Sabine, we'll be there." Sabine turned and headed up to the Phantom's docking port.

Zeb and Chopper were, predictably, arguing when she arrived.

"No, I did not say I was ready for the life support filters to be purged!" she heard an agitated Zeb say. Chopper replied with a saucy string of beeps.

"Yeah, it was a good trick, and if you keep quiet, I'll let you do it to Ezra sometime." Zeb replied.

Sabine approached the hatch that led to the Phantom.

"Hey, we've got a meeting in the common room right now." She called.

"Alright, we'll be right there", Zeb replied.

Sabine made her way back to the common room without another word.

Hera, Ahsoka, Kanan, and Ezra were already there when she arrived. The holotable was turned on and displaying a schematic of a building that was unfamiliar to Sabine, but clearly Imperial in design. After a moment of waiting, Zeb and Chopper arrived and the meeting could begin.

"Since the incident at the old bunker", Ahsoka began. "Security has gotten too tight around the starfighter manufacturing plant. Luckily, we have an alternative target. She gestured towards the holotable display. "This is the Imperial Labour Camp that is responsible for providing most of the E-11 blaster rifles in this sector. Its less than one kilometer away,and is only moderately fortified from the outside. Currently, ships in this spaceport have to be physically checked and cleared for takeoff by the authorities. Obviously we can't allow anyone on board and we don't need anyone taking too close a look outside.

"But we obviously can't stay here." said Hera, stepping in. "The planetary lockdown caused by the bunker incident has been lifted, but we still need a distraction to leave."

"I fail to see how this relates to the prison camp." said a confused Zeb.

"I don't", Sabine said. "If we cause a massive release of prisoners, all the ships in the port will be released. Imperial protocol in the event of a large escape is to remove any interstellar transport within a one kilometer radius.

"Chopper and I will stay behind and run extraction ops", Hera said. "The rest of you are going to let loose some prisoners.