An: More updates becasue wow you guys have really steped up your review game!
I hope you all know how great it makes me feel to know your enjoying something I put together, but if you think i can improve in some way- please tell me.
All this updating is due to UnfathomableFandoms betaing. Go give her stuff a look.

This Chapter is dedicated to Trashfriends.
You are all very special to me.

Survival Trial
Chapter 4

It had been at least an hour or so since the ship had landed. Ezra estimated he was at least a day ahead of his crew now- judging by how his stomach rumbled unhappily under his ribs- but knowing his crew, they wouldn't stay far behind for long.

If he shifted his weight, pins and needles would stab into his joints, traveling up and down his arms until they went numb again. His tongue was dry, sticking to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. Ezra swallowed thickly; it felt like he'd been chewing on cotton.

The perpetual darkness was starting to take its toll on his mind. He was starting to see a faint blurr of white or orange in the corner of his vision.

No, wait, he thought. That's real.

A soft light wiggled and slowly faded into existence down the far left side of the tunnel. It was two guards this time, one holding the torch and the other attending to the other captives. They were moving along the line. Now Ezra could hear a loud click- it echoed down the line. There was a faint groan- followed by a hard metallic tap of the guard's baton. Ezra felt the vibration run down the long bar his shackles were looped around with a painful jolt to his joints. There was no more noise from any of the other slaves. A clink of chain again, a shuffle of cloth.

They're moving us, Ezra realized. Anticipation began to bubble in his gut.

It took several minutes before the guards reached Ezra. The spurred man's face was heavily shadowed by the torch light, casting dark lines around the wrinkles in his high brow. His ear' flicked irritably. He didn't bother making eye contact, he looked annoyed. As they'd done with all the others, they clamped two heavy metal rings around Ezra's ankles and secured the shackles to the long chain that ran along the floor.

The added weight pulled at Ezra's bound wrists, and he took in a sharp suck of air and pushed through the last agonizing seconds hanging from his arms.

Finally the guard stood, his eyes bypassing Ezra's face entirely and reached up to unlock the wrist cuffs.
Ezra held his breath, and then there was a click and his right arm was freed. His feet found the floor, and he just managed to stay upright on dead legs. His ribs burned, and the ache in his shoulders increased five fold now that the strain was gone. Ezra tried to drop his arm, but the muscles had seized and locked his numb limb in place. His left wrist was unclasped, and immediately re-shackled to his right.
Ezra slowly forced his arms below his ears, wincing as his sore muscles protested.

The relief of solid ground under his feet came close to balancing the pain, and Ezra almost wanted to thank the guard- almost.

The large guards continued down the line, leaving Ezra standing in single file against the wall.
He used the time to to roll his neck, lifting and dropping his shoulders and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Slowly working the pin pricks and some of the ache out of his body.

He almost had most of the feeling back in his pickling limbs, when a loud metallic clang rang up the narrow hallway.
"Get moving ya filthy poodoo!"

Ezra heard the chain scrape across the rough floor far down the other end in the dark, and the sound of shifting cloth and feet.
Ezra was ready for it. But he was still surprised when the chain connected to his ankles suddenly pulled off, and he shuffled forward to catch his balance, falling into step.

They were marched through the darkness in single file formation. Ezra wondered how the front of the chain found their way in the inky darkness of the ship. The only sounds were the chink of the chain dragging rhythmically across the floor and the occasional echoed shouts from the guards.

The light began to brighten a little as they rounded a sharp corner and Ezra could see the shapes of other shuffling beings ahead of him.
They were marched through a wide set of doors, and then Ezra found himself in the hatch entrance of the ship. The light was piercing, and he squinted, trying to see past the burning whiteness.

It felt like a lifetime since he'd snuck up this ramp, unaware of what was aboard. But he had no time to dwell, as the the chain pulled forward by the chain gang and into the light.

The chain gang was filed down the cargo ramp and into a large stone corridor lit with bright fluorescent filaments in the ceiling. The rough floor began to tilt under their chained feet and Ezra wondered if they were headed underground.

Ezra took a moment now as they were marched through the dim tunnel to study the other slaves. They were all human, or humanoid at the very least. There was only a handful of women, and even less children. The men were all middle aged or older and built with thick arms and barrel chests. They were farmers, or plantation workers judging by the dirt smears on their hands and knees. There were also Twi'leks, Ithorians, and a dozen other species he couldn't name.

Ezra was frowned, thinking a skinny boy in an orange jumpsuit surely stood out in this line up, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

Now Ezra scrutinized the Slavers. He didn't recognize the species, but they were humanoid. They had almost...feline features, with pointed ears similar to Zeb's and angular cheekbones. Many sported beards.

The corridor opened up to windowless duracrete pavilion. The walls were lined with more guards with spurs on their jaws, and at the far end there were a series of tunnels. The center of the room was filled with rows of more slaves.

Ezra was momentarily taken aback, by the sheer number of slaves and species that he stopped walking in shock.
He was pushed forward by the large man behind him, just as the chain yanked him forwards by the ankles.

He went down onto his knees, but almost the moment his elbows touched the dirt there was an almighty crack beside his ear and a wave of crackling hot air.

Ezra flinched away, and looked up to see the same guard that had unclamped his wrists, bearing down on him and brandishing a thick electowhip.
The weapon fizzled and crackled a violent bright yellow, almost hurting his eyes in the dim. The whip fizzled inches from his face, taunting him with bright light and the searing heat, not dissimilar to a lightsaber.

The guard bellowed something short and angry in his gargling tongue, and while Ezra couldn't understand the words, he understood the disgusted, angry turn to the guard's mouth.

Ezra quickly picked himself off the dusty ground and stumbled back into formation, eyes front.

There was a murmur of laughter from the guards along the walls, but otherwise the wide room was eerily quiet.

The line up was marched through the stocks, until they reached an empty row. The long ankle chains were removed but their hands remained bound.
As soon as the guards moved away, many of the slaves in his row sank down onto their rumps and knees with a faint sigh of relief.

Ezra hesitated, and then, slowly, sank down to the floor and sat down for the first time in twenty four hours.

They'd been waiting for at least an hour now, and Ezra was struggling to fight off sleep. His eyes wanted to slip closed, even though he was far from relaxed.

His legs had gone numb underneath him again, and the cuffs were chafing his wrists through his suit sleeves.

He was trying to meditate, but each time he managed to sink into rhythm and clear his mind- an electric whip would crack, or a guard would shout- jolting him from his reprieve. The air was too thick with sweat and body odor to calm him anyway.

His head was beginning to ache.
They'd circulated water skins, and Ezra had drunk as much as he dared before passing it on, but his mouth was already dry again.
Instead, he tried to focus on the cuffs.

His fingertips could just reach the locking mechanisms on his wrists- but without a pick or at least something to activate the pistons, he wasn't getting anywhere fast. There was a set of picks hidden inside his suit, but there was no way he could reach them while the guards patrolled the rows. They would be here in an instant to whip him back into place, literally. Or they would find out he stole the Holocron, or recognize him and ship him off to an Imperial prison.

He wasn't going to use the Force to unlock them- he'd promised Kanan.

As soon as they take the shackles off, I'm gone. He thought. He could find his way into the vent system, and from that point, it would be a matter of choosing which direction to run. He'd find the market transports and slowly make his way back to Lothal doing odd jobs to pay his way.

That was, if the Ghost crew didn't catch up with him first, which was the ideal scenario. They could buy him off, and the crew would make a nice and tidy get away for once.

Assuming that they found him before he was forced to make a run for it on his own.

Ezra heaved a heavy sigh, and cracked his neck to the side, alleviating some of the pressure in his joints.

The unsettled peace was broken by a guard cupping his large hands around his mouth. "Look alive." he bellowed in gruff basic. "Clerks coming through!"

The slaves on either side of Ezra suddenly climbed to their feet, arms bound out in front of them and heads down.

Ezra followed suit, making sure to keep his head down but glancing around, searching for movement. The caverns was filled with quiet subdued shuffling, and then returned to silence.

He noticed two Twi'lek girls being lead away down one of the darkened hallways, and looked away when his thoughts turned to Hera.

A humanoid alien appeared at the end his row. He was the same species as the ones who'd captured Ezra, only he was built much thinner in the shoulders and face. His tunic was a muted deep blue and trimmed in gold. And he carried an ornate datapad, marking notes as he began to stride down the row. He was flanked by two guards, one which Ezra recognized as the one who'd cuffed him and threatened him with a whipping. The guard flexed his wide fingers alongside his belt as he walked a careful pace behind the clerk.

Ezra eyed them carefully, both disgusted and intrigued to see how their business was conducted.

They were slolwly making their way along the rows, and every so often the clerk would indicate one of the Slaves. The guards pinched several by their biceps, and pulled a handful of them out of the line. The chosen few were all men with thick necks and hard frowns, and many were plucked from the same chain Ezra had been brought in with.

When they reached Ezra's spot in line, he turned his face down and hunched. But he was bypassed completely, and he was fine with that. But the men standing on either side were pulled out of place, and added to the growing line. His row was starting to look a lot emptier now, only a few of the men remained standing. Ezra glanced sideways and noticed his neighbors were now a thin woman in a raggedy tunic and a girl with her brown hair tied in lots of skinny braids. Neither one glanced to Ezra and his attention was pulled back to the clerk.

The clerk made a few final checks on his datapad and the gestured to the second guard on his left. Then turned away, unfazed.

"Plantationers, move out." commanded the guard, his voice gravely.
Ezra glanced down the line and recognized the man standing beside the clerk and talking in low gruff voices, it was Boots.

The lump on his temple gave a hard throb and Ezra grit his teeth.
He turned his body, and watched out the corner of his eye as the Slavers began marching the chosen men away. Boots turned on his heel and followed, but the Clerk did not. Instead he paced along the stocks, eyeing off the slaves and glancing at his datapad.

On their next rotation, the guards began to separate the women.

Ezra felt his stomach sink into his boots, watching carefully as three more Twi'lek girls, a Zeltron and a handful of other humanoid species Ezra didn't know were added to the formation. They were all young, and quiet, and didn't say a word. Even as the guards pinched their arms and yanked them out of line, their heads remained bowed and passive.

The clerk the his entourage circled around again and passed Ezra's place in the stocks without batting an eye, and a small piece of him was a little relieved.

And then the clerk stopped and turned, facing not Ezra, but the slave woman alongside him.

The woman's face was hagged, and sun-spotted, and there were streaks of grey in her hair. She was easily one of the eldest women here. Now that Ezra looked, he could see tear tracks in the dirt on her face, but under the soot, her eyes were a bright green. She visibly flinched when the clerk stopped short and Ezra was surprised, because it was the most reaction he'd seen from any of these broken people.

He wondered how long she'd been a slave.

The clerk put out a hand and took the woman by the chin, lifting up her face and and turning it from side to side as he inspected her closely. The woman was trembling, but quiet. The clerk had a thoughtful look on his face- and then tutted, pushing her roughly back into her place in the stocks.

"Too old for worth." he remarked airily over his shoulder. The guard laughed.

Ezra let out a breath he'd been holding as quietly as he could. At least she was spared.

And then the clerk's attention was drawn down to the girl.

She'd pressed herself hard against the stocks, her head bowed and her shoulders pulled up to her chin. Her braids hanging loose, curtaining her face.

The clerk clicked his fingers and the guards moved in, taking the girl by the arm and pulling her forward.

Ezra was sure he heard a sharp agonized cry from the mother- but she'd said nothing. Her green eyes flashed with defensive anger.

The girl didn't struggle, she looked like she was paralyzed with fear. Her eyes were wide, the same bright green as her mother's.

She was brought forward before the clerk and his sharp hand shot out, pinching the girls chin and lifting her face up. His face twisted up in deep scrutiny.

"How old are you?" The clerk demanded, his basic was a clean and practiced purr.

The girl didn't answer, blinking in fear and confusion- It was obvious, she didn't understand basic. If Ezra had to guess, she was twelve, or thirteen at most.

The clerk smiled, the guard chuckled. The girl visibly flinched at the sound of laughter, and tried to withdraw her chin. But the guard held on firmly to either arm, and the clerk tilted her jaw back further. "Would you like to try your fair at the pleasure houses, waif?"

The mother began to make mewing muffled noises, her eyes wide and panicked. It sounded as if she was pleading with the guards, trying to put the attention back on herself, but they paid her no attention.

Anger bloomed in Ezra's chest, and he grit his teeth.

He knew about pleasure houses, but back on Lothal; they were few and far between. The few girls he knew to lead the life, had chosen to. It was by no means a glamorous life, but in many ways the girls and women he'd met were proud of their jobs and took lengthy measures to protect both themselves and their clientele. Even the Empire recognized them as a legitimate business- and gladly charged triple the tax.
But without question their first rules were that their workers wanted to be there, and that children were never employed.

Ezra knew the standards on other planets were not as strict or enforced, and that many systems the workers were not given a choice, like the ones on Lothal were.

He knew about these things, but he'd never had to face it. Much like slavery, he was learning a lot about the Galaxy on this detour.

The guards were laughing, and the cold sound cut through him, pulling on memories of Troopers back on the streets of Lothal. Pushing him on from the safety and warmth of a covered doorway, laughing him into the rain. Troopers didn't care if you were cold or hungry, and Slavers didn't care if you were a person.

Ezra closed his eyes, trying to pretend he hadn't seen the girl's green ones fill with tears.

He had to be patient, he had to be quiet and wait for Kanan...

While she would be taken from her mother and sent to work in a brothel, and no one here would do a thing to stop it-

Ezra sucked after hard breath, and the angry shout tumbled out before he could stop them.

"Hey- leave her alone! She's just a kid!" his words echoed in the wide hall, and all eyes turned to stare.

The cavern's atmosphere immediately changed from pressing silence to one of fear and apprehension.

The guard dropped one of the girl's arms almost the moment Ezra got the first word out, turning so sharply that his boots scuffed on the rough floor. His hand was already on his belt, ready to brandish his whip, but the clerk shot out a hand and stayed the guard, his mouth was set in a loose unimpressed smirk.

"You must still be fresh." said the clerk, his tone implied amusement, like a lothcat that had found a grasshen chick. Ezra bit his tongue, clenching his hands into fists and fighting the heat that bloomed in his chest. Ignoring the warning prickle the Force sent him through his spine, he stayed quiet.

The clerk's smile waned a little, and he took a wide step away from the girl, and towards Ezra. The gaurd released the girl. Ans she tore away, burying her face in her mother's arms, hugging her as best she could in the cuffs. A small part of Ezra was relieved, but the guard stepped in the way, blocking them from view.

"Stand up, boy" ordered the clerk.
Ezra hesitated, weighing his non-options, before slowly climbing to his feet. His fingers twitched on his cuffs. He could open them in a flash. He knew he could.

The clerk came forward and circled Ezra once, his eyes scanning the boy up and down.

"Are you volunteering? Big blues and a baby face like yours would fetch a decent price for the right buyers."

Ezra scowled, forgetting his frightened cover. His spine was shivering, telling him he was nearing trouble. But he pushed the feeling away, squaring his feet and his jaw. He was already in trouble.

"I know you're a kriffin Slaver, but at least that's business." Ezra shot back, his voice sharp and not at all quiet. "Putting kids through the red-light slums sounds like personal preference to me." he sucked on his teeth and tutted. "Even the Imps frown on touching kids, y'know."

The words pulled a murmur of distaste from the crowd, and now some the guards were shifting on their feet, shooting furtive looks at one another. Even many of the slaves had lifted their eyes, both in surprise, fear and some were even eying the clerk in varying degrees of disgust.

The clerk's face bloomed red briefly, then he regained his composure and shot a narrow look through Ezra.

"Perhaps the work houses," he grit out, "would be a better fit for a slave, so new to his position."

Anger filled him. Ezra snorted heavily, in outrage and disgust.
"I'm not your slave."

Now it was the clerks turn to snort, airily and amused. He lifted the datapad and gestured the cuffs at Ezra's wrists. "You are the one in manacles, child. Tell me, where did they catch you? Your basic is quite solid, if you had a better attitude you could be of use in the mines as a runner-"

The clerk's voice droned on but Ezra's attention had slipped away.

He noted suddenly, that many of the guards numbers had dropped, having left to escort the chosen slaves. The rotation had put a large gap in the forces along the wall. Counting the clerk and the one standing behind him, they were down a good third of their original number.

There were more guards along down the far end, but they were all circling the other of the stocks- if Ezra was fast enough, he might just make it into the tunnels before they could catch him.
He didn't know what lay down those dark corridors, but Ezra was willing to bet there was a vent shift somewhere in this place. The air needed to circulate somehow.

"Are you listening boy?" the clerk snapped sharply, and Ezra pulled his attention back to the thin man.

"Not really." he replied snarkily.

If the clerk's face had been angry before, it was fury now. He turned to the Guard beside him and pointed at claw at Ezra. "It is time someone took this slaves insolent tongue."

The guard pulled back his arm, and the electowhip came alive, arching through the air. Ezra could almost feel the collective gasp from the slaves.

It was going to be now or never.

The whip was brought down, and Ezra only avoided the crackling snap by rolling to his left. As he hit the ground, he briefly closed his eyes and squeezed his hands tight- and concentrated.
His cuffs fell open, and Ezra left them in the dust as he rolled onto his feet.

The clerk's voice was outrage. "You little-"

The guard had pulled the whip back again, ready to strike. But Ezra dove for the guard, ducked under the whip, barreling into the man with his shoulder and driving his elbow deep into his gut.

Ezra didn't have the weight to put behind a move like that to truly wind the guard, but he had speed and surprise. The guard bent at the waist and Ezra took the opportunity to dive between the guard's splayed boots, pulled his feet in and then kicked the man hard right where the sun didn't shine.

The guard let ou a breathless, strangled moan and went down on his knees. Ezra was already on his feet, and running. The clerk's eyes widened as he realized Ezra was headed straight for him. But instead of planting his feet, he cowered and flinched out of the boy's way. He looked almost insulted and betrayed that anyone would actually stand against his tyranny.

Ezra didn't quash the jerky laugh he felt burst out of him at the sight, and pushed his feet forward.
He could hear the shouting, short angry sounds and the static crackle of a chorus of electro whips.

He kept moving, ignoring the gaping faces he passed and focused on the end of the row.
He was only ten feet away when two guards slid into view and started in his direction, whips and batons raised high.

Ezra kept his momentum, and as he pulled up only a whip's reach from the guards, he veered to the right and dove under the stocks between two shocked Twi'lek men. He rolled out into the next aisle and was back on his feet before the guards realised where he'd disappeared to.

He broke free of the stocks and risked a glance to either end. There was a pile of guards catching up, and the two fools one row over had realised he was only just behind him.

Ezra pushed off again and plowed ahead, his legs pumping under him. The adrenaline had chased away any pain from his bruises, his brain still throbbed but now it was a was a pulse that kept him moving.

He tried to ignore the looks the other slaves sent him, some egging him on, some fearful. His gut lurched. His hero's instinct- something the Ghost Crew had left behind, told him to release them using the Force, but he knew in the back of his mind they wouldn't run. They would slow him down, and they'd all be be caught. He couldn't help them here, but maybe he could from the outside.

He kept running.

The corridor was feet away, and he almost let himself feel a little self congratulations for having gotten this far in the first place.

That was when his spine gave a hard shudder, and the tall menacing form of Boots loomed out of the shadows in the hallway.

Ezra fumbled, trying to backtrack or change direction all while keeping momentum.

Instead he tripped on his own feet, and went down hard, rolling in the dust.

The room spun and Ezra looked up from his dusty hands right up into the angry, ugly face of Boots.

Boots smiled grimly and lifted his heel. Ezra knew it was coming, but the shoe still hurt as much as the gun butt had being thrust into his head.

He wasn't knocked out this time, but he was certainly knocked out of conscious thought.

He was dimly aware of rough hands clamping cuffs around his wrists again, much tighter than before. The metal bit in to the inflamed skin where he had been cuffed for hours. So...close, his thoughts slurred in his mind.

He was shoved hard to his knees, and his arms were pulled ahead- almost out of their sockets. It felt like two knives were being twisted into his shoulder blades. He was dragged, his feet scraping in the dirt and he was hauled between two huge guards back along the rows.
They're making an example outta me, Ezra thought dimly.

He blinked hard, trying to see straight and past the throbbing pain in his skull.

The slaves all looked down, refusing to meet his eyes.

Then he was pulled past two faces he knew.

He craned his head back and glanced over his shoulder.

The girl was pulled against her mother, her head buried into her chest and the woman's arms were looped, tightly around her despite their bonds.

Both of them met his eye and while their faces were sad, their bright green eyes were filled with gratitude.

It was the same look the people of Tarkintown would wear when the crew brought them food.
Ezra felt a bubble of pride in his chest before he was roughly shaken forward, and the warm feeling popped.

"Alright move on, eyes fount!" shouted a guard, trying to quiet the unsettled slaves.

Boots was leading the procession and while Ezra's mind was still reeling, he still had the wherewithal to take note of where they were taking him.

Though he had little hope of escape now, he held out that his actions would not send him too far off course that the Ghost crew couldn't find him.
Like death, for instance.

He wondered mildly, if the idiots had discovered the loss of their cargo yet.

If they hadn't, he might still survive long enough for the crew to arrive.
If they had, well, he'd decided there wasn't much point in worrying about it.

He hoped he hadn't cost his promise to the Crew.

He was dragged to the opposite end of the hall and then the guards took a sharp left down a thin passage way he hadn't noticed buried in the corner.

This hall was lit with orange lanterns that hung from the ceiling, and they hurt Ezra's eyes after being in the dim for so long.

All at once the guards pulled up and the footsteps ceased.

Ezra squinted blearily at the steelum door and Boots punched in a code to a security key Ezra couldn't see.

The hatch flew open and the guards lifted Ezra by his aching arms and the back of his suit- and threw him into the room.

Ezra landed hard on a surprisingly solid surface. It was the floor was paved with polished dark green stone. He looked up, and saw the captain from the ship, standing with his back to them and his claws folded behind him.

Ezra had half a moment's time to glance around the expensive room, a jarring sight after a day in the dark and dust, before a large foot crushed the side of his head into the floor.

Boot's angry barking began almost immediately and he twisted the heel of his foot into Ezra cheek in emphasis. Ezra tried not to let the pain show, squeezing his eyes tight and listening for tones and lilts in his voice. If only he knew what the brute was saying, he might have a chance to talk his way around again.

When Boot's rant had come to an end, there was a long drop of silence. Ezra could feel his heart thudding against the cold floor in his chest. He sucked I'm a thin breath through his nose and boots growled low in his throat, increasing chest pressure on Ezra skull till he thought Boots might crush his foot right through to the floor.

"Enough."

The words cut through the buildup in Boot's voice and the large heel on the side of his crown pulled back just enough to let the circulation rush through his brain. His head throbbed and Ezra swallowed hard, trying to see the captain.

His narrow face was pinched in tight disapproval, and he was watching Ezra carefully with thin eyes.

"You," he said, starting slow. "have caused us quite a bit of trouble for a runaway."

Ezra swallow again. He didn't like the edge in the captain's voice when he said 'runaway'.

"New slaves like yourself would be put through conditioning. Until you learned your place. Slaves that do not know their place will be whipped in the stocks for insubordination."

The captain turned and Ezra struggled to keep his eyes on the floor and his face straight.

"I've been watching you, and you are, no runaway, are you boy?"

Ezra lifted his head off the floor, and met the stone eyes evenly.

The jig was up, but that didn't mean he had to stop playing the game.
Ezra shrugged lazily and gave the captain a thin smile. It was hard with the smelly boot still inches from his face, but he managed a facade of cocky assurance.

"I've been known to make a quick escape here and there."
Pain exploded across his back and he was pushed back into the cold floor, Boots was growling furiously in his ears and pressing his heel hard across his shoulders.

"Stop."

Boots shot upright, dragging Ezra with him by the back of his suit and he was forced to sit back on his knees. Judging by the gaping, furious expression he wore, Boots wanted to disobey the order. However, the second in command hesitated, looking to the Captain to continue.

"I have a special auction house in mind for our stowaway."

A special auction? Ezra clenched his teeth tight. The public whipping was sounding better by the minute. The work houses would be a cinch. Was this the sort of auction the girls had been sent to? He severely hoped not.

"Take the boy to the proprietor's section." the captain said in a bored sort of tone.
Ezra was certain he was only speaking basic to be sure the boy understood everything that was being said. Who were the proprietors?

Boots ripped him off the floor, and without so much as a glance backward- Ezra was shoved into the orange lit hallway once again.

He was shunted through a maze-work of dimly lit corridors. What was with the lack of lighting? He wondered, didn't the guards have trouble navigating this place? It struck him that this was the point, that had he perhaps made it into the tunnels- he would have been lost in minutes. He tried to count the corners and turns they made, but he was soon lost, just as they intended.

Boots kept kicking his calves and stepping on the back of his ankles, bullying him forwards with sharp jabs of the blaster barrel in his ribs.
Their footsteps echoed in the quiet and Ezra was hard put deciding if he had been better off in the stocks where he was at least ignored.
No, he would ahve probably tried something else foolish and ended up here anyway. At least I'm consistant, he mused.

They reached a narrow corridor and suddenly, Boots jerked him backwards with a hard tug on his jumpsuit- shoving him through a doorway and onto his knees.

Ezra turned, but a door rose up, preventing him from retreating and cutting off what little light he had.

Ezra shuffled onto his feet, regaining his balance in the shackles and waited. Everything was pitch darkness now. He tried to move forwards, but he felt a cold smooth wall on all sides- he was trapped in a room only a few feet wide. But he was alone, and this was enough to give him hope. Maybe now he would have a moment to rest and plan his next move. How would he get message to the Crew? Would they find him here, deep in the slavers' labyrinths?

Of course they would. Ezra shook his head, and then stopped when his brain sloshed painfully against the sides of his skull. He wished he could lie down. He missed laying down in the grasslands and watching the clouds go by.

Just as his eyes began to adjust to the dark, a bright yellow filimant suddenly flared above, him with a cheap, constant hum. He squeezed his eyes shut but the sharp light was already giving him an even worse headache. He blinked rapidly through the pain and resisted shutting his eyes.
So he wasn't as alone as he'd hoped.

Now Ezra could see he stood inside a glass walled cylinder. His reflection was mirrored back at him, warped, yellowed and hagged. He put his bound hands up to the glass to shade his eyes and he peered through the distorted image.

Outside the glass he could make out several shadowy outlines of people and different species spaced out, lounging throughout the room. Faces and details were obscured by plated holoscreens presented in front of them and the heavy haze of smoke clouding the air.

As he squinted, the floor began to hum and Ezra looked down in panic and saw the circular panel he stood on was beginning to spin, turning Ezra around at a slow pace.

Slow realization hit him as the faceless shadows rotated around him.

This was the special auction, the Captain was talking about. And here Ezra was- on display.

Ezra felt the hot fire burning inside his chest again. He was not an item on sale in the Imperial shop section. He wasn't for sale, dammit.

Ezra stepped off the spinning panel and tried to balance on the gap of unmoving floor between the center panel and the back wall.

He lent his weight backwards and scowled viciously through the glass. If it weren't for the shackles around his wrists and ankles, he would've folded his arms to really sell the image. I am not some broken slave, he thought. Who would want a troublesome skinny kid who refuses to work? No one, he hoped.

The screens around him were all blue and they cast an eerie glow through the smokey room beyond the glass. Yet not enough that Ezra could count how many bidders were out there and identify any faces or species.
He could see data filtering across the screens, inverted and blurred from his position. But Ezra was sure he caught a glimpse of a credit number. Eight hundred credits.

He felt his gut flip and instantly knew something was wrong. Who would pay Eight hundred anything for him? The numbers were changing again, and Ezra was confused to see the numbers were climbing.

Was it at all possible the Crew were out there, buying him out of this hole? Why else would the price be so high? What was he being purchased for at these rates? Nothing good, that was certain.

He scanned the room of shadows, trying to see through his own reflection into the hazy room beyond. He saw no outlines that would identify Kanan, Hera or possibly Zeb, no bright colors of Sabine.

The holoscreens all flickered at once and Ezra squinted, barley making out a thin box had appeared on the displays and he managed to make out the words 'final sale'

The light above him shut off, plunging him into darkness again and leaving him blinking the glare away. Ezra was suddenly aware the crown of his head was hot from the bright filaments and it made the rest of him feel cold that sunk into his bones.

He had been sold.

The wall he was leaning against pulled up and Ezra had to fumble against the doorway to stay standing.

He looked down into the dark narrow hallways, and then back behind him into the blue shadows beyond the glass.

He had little to no choice. So while it gut him to do it, Ezra turned and forced his jelly legs to move back into the hallway, towards uncertainty.

R&R for more chapters and for Ezra to stop trying to save the day