AN: Hello all! I am not dead! I'm very sorry about the wait, I've had lots of dentist work done recently and it just ruined my creative appetite.

I feel like I made a mistake posting the last chapter before the next, the story still works but I feel that it could have been a smoother transition between the scenes. I may readjust them later- but for now, please enjoy more angst, and please continue to leave those amazing reviews!

The Survival Trials.

Chapter 8

The holojection only lasted a few more minutes. The man's image that was stretched across the walls momentarily regarded the room, as if he could actually view them through the holojection. His patrician features tensed, and now he peered down on the candidates with an austere frown.

His lips were moving again, and Ezra had to swallow down hard, trying to clear the ringing and the pressure out of his ears. His heartbeat was in his stomach and he felt like he was breathing through a straw.

"As our final call has been... more reductive then previous calls, battle from this point on will be dealt with immediate disqualification. "

Disqualification? Ezra perked up, perhaps there was a chance to escape before this stupid game could begin.

"Followed by execution."

Ezra's hope died. Or not...

"You will now be separated. All successful candidates will be processed so the final call can be made. The trials will officially begin in sixty-four hours."

Ezra grit his teeth. Sixty-four hours sounded such a long time to wait- and still far too soon. His heart fluttered nervously against his ribs. I can do this, he thought seriously. I just need to wait for the crew. They'll come for me. They will.

The figurehead of the Man-in-white smiled serenely down from the walls for a moment, sizing them up. Then, he dipped his chin in a brisk nod, one fine brow cocked just slightly higher than the other and grinned, bearing clean white teeth.

"Good hunting."

His steel eyes flashed, and the feed flickered, and then cut out.
The lights returned with a flash, bright and burning and a rumble of murmurs began to rise from the room.

Ezra took in the room at a sweeping glance through squinted eyes, and did not like what he saw.

It looked, at first glance, that many of the other candidates were either standing awkwardly in place, or struggling back onto their feet. The ones standing swiveled on the spot, peering at each other with scrutiny and distrust, eyeing up their opponents.

But some weren't moving at all.

He could make out only few still lumps between the gaps in the tables. There was a bright red smear across one of the far walls and a oily blue spatter on a table edge close by the feet of a wilted Duros.

It took him longer for the sight to sink in then he liked, but after a few moments he realised what he was seeing.
Ezra sucked in a hard breath and pressed back into the wall, wishing he could fade through it and leave this awful place. He would have closed his eyes and pressed his hands over his ears, trying to draw up an image of the Ghost. But he barely dared closed his eyes long enough to blink. He could sense the tension in the room growing with every passing second, and he didn't want to be around when it peaked.

There was a shiver of movement in the corner of his eye and he snapped his head around.

The Massassi wasn't far away, his bulking weight folded across his chest. His simian features were narrowed but smooth as he surveyed the rest of the room with a calm and unsettling ease. A Nikto was standing back on one foot, not moving but certainly studying his challengers. The Dug was leaning casually against one of the benches, tutting and throwing a sneer at his 'opponents'. Ezra whipped his neck around, trying to keep the biggest threats in sight-

He was surprised, but impressed, to see the thin Xexto boy huddled under an upturned table, alive but clearly frightened and confused, eyes unblinkingly searching the room.

His attention was snatched away by the sound of claws shifting across the panel floor and Ezra picked out the Trandoshan across the room, lifting his maw high and breathing deep and tasting the air.

Ezra stiffened, and the hulking lizard snap his jaws around, staring straight at him.

Ezra felt his heart rate spike- and suddenly he was angry. He knew he'd offended the lizard somehow- but was it really enough to warrant this much of his focus? There were plenty of other candidates to pin his murderous rage on! Ezra had enough to worry about already without this monong sticking his scaly scout in his business.

Ezra found himself glaring back, and even if it was a stupid thing to do- he jerked the hand that didn't throb into the air and made a rude gesture with his middle finger that he wasn't allowed to make around Hera and Kanan. He was momentarily flushed with confidence and pride.

The Trandoshan's eye widened, just for a moment with surprise- and then thinned into angry slits.

Ezra knew it had been a mistake- and he dropped his arm as quickly as he could, but the damage was done.

The murmurs began to soften, and then the room fell quiet. A long tense moment passed, and Ezra could feel the pressure in the room rising. He swallowed, but his ears refused to pop and the air began to weigh down.

Wall panels shot up from the floor, penning Ezra inside the four squares of floor he stood on. He had to step back quickly to avoid the corner closing on his heel- and found himself standing in another box, with walls several times his height. They'd shot up so fast- he hadn't seen if the other candidates had been given the same treatment He hoped the others were penned, or it wasn't a good sign that he was going to be kept around much longer. Not that a high wall's gonna keep an angry Trandoshan out for long, he mused darkly.

There was another whirl of mechanics and Ezra spun around to see the panels that had formed the wall of the white room before, were now withdrawing and revealing a grey steelum corridor. He could hear boots from somewhere around the bend in the wall.

Ezra didn't move for several seconds, pressing all his weight on his back foot. But there was no where to run.

Was this it? Already? A fight inside a box this small surely couldn't offer much entertainment value, or a challenge to his opponent. But the man-in-white had said the Trials wouldn't start for another three days. Had he failed the test? Would this tunnel lead to the gutters and the body chutes? Hadn't he proven he could play dirty?

All these thoughts flittered through his panicked mind, his hands closing into fists and his pulse drowned out the footsteps in his ears.

He was surprised when a Trainer appeared around the corner, wearing a slightly less bored expression then the previous one. He looked the boy up and down, and nodded his head along.

"Come on, I don't got all day."

Ezra didn't need to be told twice, he was happy to leave the white room. He tried not to think about where he might be going instead. He pushed off his back foot, feeling his legs shaking underneath him as he darted to the Trainer's side.

The wall panel closed sharply behind them, making the boy jump. The dimness of the tunnel was suddenly hard to see through after the brightness and Ezra blinked rapidly as he studied his surroundings, unwilling to be blind for long.

"You're going for assignment." The trainer told him firmly, and pointed his baton down the way he'd come. "Ain't you lucky."

"Lucky's not the word I'd use." Ezra answered cautiously, quickly adding "Sir," as he remembered the first Trainers advice.

This Trainer snorted, amused, and prodded Ezra in the small of the back, pushing his ahead. "You ain't dead yet. That's more than most get this round."

Ezra bit down on his tongue as the acidic remark tried to creep up his throat. So he should be thankful, should he?

Visions of the red smears and the blue spatter crossed his mind and he shook them away. I didn't do that, he told himself firmly.

Didn't I though? Asked another voice. I started the fight.

Ezra chose not to answer, busying himself by chewing his tongue and focusing on counting how many steps he took in each direction. This place seemed much bigger than the Rebellion's main starship for Force's sake.

The trainer marched him up three more long, steel tunnels, finally leading him to a room with a fresher and a basin.

"Do yer business." The trainer instructed, turning his back in the doorway. "And make it quick. The makers don't want to waste any time."

Ezra studied the man's back for half a moment, scrutinising the backwards grip he held the baton at. I could make a grab for it, Ezra thought. I could take him out with the electro-prod- maybe pinch his uniform and his swipe cards. Find a comm deck- or a ship! I'll take a pod if I have too. Make a break for it.

He was just starting to warm to the idea, but barely a second after it occurred, the trainer glanced over his shoulder. "Don't be getting ideas, fodder. You're still wearing a collar. This ain't our first time at the brawl. We got eyes on you. So don't be make any decisions that'll gets you shot though before we can put you on the feeds." he smiled crookedly and turned away again, clearly pleased.

Ezra turned away, scowling bitterly, internally scolding himself for forgetting that detail. He glanced at the grey and tan blur that was his reflection in the polished wall panels, eyeing the dark line that shadowed his neck. As long as he wore this awful collar, the 'makers' knew his every move.

Ezra washed his hands and face in the basin first, then relieved himself, and then washed his hands again. It was... more difficult than he'd have liked, to relax enough to do so. His nerves were shot, and even with the Trainers back turned, he couldn't loosen his muscles up, no matter what watery imagery he tried to conjure. Even the waterfalls of Naboo didn't help.

"You done yet?" The trainer demanded.

"Yeah." Ezra sighed, feeling weary and bitter and still uncomfortably full in the gut. "I'm done."

"Good. Now let's get moving. We've got a lot to organize before you're set free."

He said the word 'free' like he'd made a good joke, and flashed an ugly grin.

Ezra held his tongue, so far being somewhat civil and cooperative had kept him from any backlash from the the trainers. He hoped it stayed that way, he needed all the friends he could get right now.

They marched back down the first tunnels and left, and then took a right and then made a turn at a cross section that took them in a straight line for three minutes. Every hallway looked alike, but Ezra was starting to find features down the different hallways. A lighting fitting was broken at one corner, and a wall panel was scratched at another. He began to build a map in his mind, ignoring the voice at the back of his thoughts that told him he's never have the opportunity to use it.

The trainer tapped the baton on his shoulder, indicating Ezra to stop. The wall to the side revealed they had reached the end of the corridor of cell doors. Ezra was almost pleased at the idea he might see his box again. He desperately needed a lie down, and perhaps he could make use of his bucket without feeling watched.

There were six other candidates already present, standing roughly a foot apart in a single line, their eyes focused the wall across from them.

The first one Ezra recognised was Nikto, standing at the very front of the line-up. Behind him stood a Rodian with narrowed eyes and beyond him were three more figures Ezra recognised from the white room; the pale sharp woman, the insectoid and, unexpectedly, the Xexto boy. The kid looked thin and breakable standing beside such calloused crowd. Ezra wondered if he looked that out of place, just another skinny kid, more fodder.

Behind each, stood a Trainer at attention, batons in hand, and at the very front stood two men. One, a wide set bald human man, with a hawkish nose and wearing a slightly cleaner, fancier blue uniform then the other Trainers. The other, Ezra recognised as the dark skinned man from the transport who'd had so much advice to give. Ezra thought suddenly of the questions he's asked, Ezra's skills in weaponry, his ability to survive, and his advice on how to stay in the game. It seemed so obvious now what he'd been in for.

Neither one looked up, and no one spoke as Ezra was nudged forward and into formation at the end of the line.

Ezra shuffled into place, trying not to stare at the Trainer he'd come to think of as the only one who seemed to want to help him to stay alive. But the dark man didn't even glance in his direction, he just stood to the side and nodded as his counterpart muttered firmly in a low voice Ezra couldn't hear.

The hawk-nosed man wore two black stripes down each shoulder, and he carried a datapad in one meaty hand, and a hand-held scanner in the other. His face was pudgy, but his brow was furrowed in a serious line. His narrowed eyes darted up and down the formation, like he expected the candidates to step out of line at any moment and was waiting for an opportunity to act on it.

No one did.

The door ahead pulled aside again and Ezra's gut pinched as he was greeted by the sight of two thin narrow slitted eyes.

So the Trandoshan was in too, was he? That wasn't surprising. But it was distressing- no, Distress wasn't the word. Terrifying? Petrifying? Those sounded more fitting.
Ezra wondered if the lizard had been brought here against his will like him, or paid his way into the Trails, for an opportunity to brawl.

The Trandoshan was marched forward, his trainer looking smaller and less charging then his cohorts. The man held the baton with the electro prod extended, and his face set with a sort of frightened focus.

The Trandoshan paid him no mind, seeming to move forward by his own accord. His wide gait meant the man had to stumble to take three steps to his one as he came to the end of the line.

Ezra picked a spot on the far wall, a little divert in the paintwork, and focused all his attention of it, forcing himself to breathe and keep his face blank. It was like meditating, but less relaxing.

The Trandoshan drew closer, and then drew even and then out of Ezra's peripheral sight. But he could hear the lizard stop, possibly an inch closer than he needed to, and turned about to face the same wall Ezra was, snorting quietly thought his snout.

Stay calm, Ezra told himself firmly. He can't do anything here- he's collared too- and if he tried he'd be sorted out, quick smart.

While Ezra knew it was true, even his own words couldn't help the uneven pounding in his chest. Beside him the Trandoshan let out a soft gurgling rumble with each exhale.

His thoughts were interrupted by the doors reopening, this time admitting the Dug.

They waited in silence, until all the candidates stood upright and aligned. The doors split apart, and admitted fifteen more candidates, making for a total of 24 by Ezra's count. He recognised the Gotal and the tentacled creature from the white room, and now noticed a female Mahran and Bothan he hadn't seen the first round. They were starting to fill the corridor up around mark 18, and Ezra had a faint bubble of hope that just maybe, perhaps something had gone wrong and-

The doors opened, and the Massassi entered, his red hulking form taking up much of the doorway.

Ezra dry swallowed, and almost wanted to smile at his optimism. Well of course they'd made room for the Massassi.

The Siman faced man moved forwards, almost leaving his Trainer behind as he moved. As he passed Ezra, a chill passed through him, and he grit his teeth, trying to mentally shake off the reminder of how he'd felt on that asteroid, so long ago now.

Any plans he hadn't already made to stay away from the beast, were well and truly concreted at the front of his mind.

The Trandoshan heaved a slightly heavy snort as the Massassi marched past, and Ezra hoped that the two would keep each other busy.

Finally, there were 24 of them, lined up and waiting. The moment the last candidate took their place, the hawk-nosed man broke into action.

He ceased talking to the Head Trainer, and peeled away, beginning a casual, yet commanding stroll down the line up. The Data pad folded under his arm, and the scanner gripped tightly in his hand. His eyes rolled over the candidates like he was assessing stock, and Ezra was reminded of the Clerk back in the slaver pens. Was he going to file them away based on what he saw, like that clerk had? If so, Ezra certainly had no hope, standing beside a Trandoshan.

Hawk-nose reached the midway point of the line up, and abruptly began to speak.

"You," he began serious, eyeing them for wandering gaze or a disrespectful attitude, "are all here- because you have passed the final call."

He paused, letting his words echo with weight. His accent was central and Ezra half wondered what kind of resume you needed to get a position like his.

"You have all be chosen for a variety of reasons, some for skill, some for entertainment." The man eyed the Xexto, then his chilling gaze flitted past Ezra and hovered down the line.

Ezra felt his expression flicker into a grimace, and straightened it out at once. He knew what category he fit into, and he was determined to make sure these gamemakers would earn no value of entrainment over watching his struggle to survive. It was almost funny, in a Galaxy where almost everyone was oppressed, more struggle was staged for entertainment.

Ezra knew far too well that struggling was no fun when you were the one doing it.

"Regardless of your rank on the outside- in here, as far as you are concerned- We-," he pressed a fat fist to his chest still holding the scanner, and then waved a second back at the start of the line up, indicating the Head Trainer, "-are the final word."

Ezra took the opportunity to glance at the Head Trainer, and he was annoyed to see that the man looked Bored of all things. Chewing on what Ezra assumed was Soft Tabacco, and watching his counterpart conduct the proceedings like a dramatic reading. Ezra turned back to the bald man, gritting his jaw tight.

"From now on. You do not associate with names. You will not discuss where you are from. You will be assigned a number that will correspond with your tag."

He turned sharply on one boot, and marched back towards the star of the line up. A soft murmur rose up among the candidates, and Ezra glanced right and immediacy straightened when green scales appeared in his peripheral.

He came to a stop at the beginning, looking the Nikto over, peering down his long nose. His profile reminded Ezra of his Master, bearing down and scritinising his saber forms- only there was no hint of warmth hidden behind his grim smile.

"You are number one." he announched heavily, and brought data reader up to the collar.
A little light on the datapad flickederd and the front now read 'one' in aurebesh. He tapped quickly at the screen, adding notes Ezra couldn't see.

After a minute, the Trainer moved onwards to the Rodain and lifted the reader up to the shock collar. "Number two."

Ezra blinked, and he quickly glanced the line up and down. Doing the math, he realised he was standing in the spot designated for number Seven.

Maybe I can use this, Ezra wandered, to send a message, a hint, to the outside world. A code?

He inclined his head to his right and then quickly looked away when the Trandsoshan growled in his throat. His eyes slipped to the left and he saw the Xexto kid.

The kid looked scared witless, hopeless, and Ezra felt a pang of sympathy. If everyone thought he was the blaster fodder here, what did that mean for the four-armed kid?

"You are number three."

Ezra doubted this kid was anywhere near as lucky as he was to have a Crew of Rebels hot on his trail.
If the kid was here, it was likely had had no one at all.

That thought struck a chord, and Ezra winced and pushed it away. He couldn't let this distract him, he had a job to do, promises to keep. He'd done enough reckless charity for this excursion, and look where saving other kids had gotten him. He wondered what had happened to the mother and daughter. He hoped, whatever it was, that his reckless behaviour had at the very least kept them out of the red-light districts.

He thought briefly of two pairs of green eyes, bright with gratitude and relief- and he was suddenly struck with guilt- and anger, for thinking he was better off not trying to help the Xexto boy. Isn't that what Hera- what the Crew had taught him? What good was his life worth, if he didn't use it to help others? He might not be free, or with his crew- helping the galaxy. And it might be reckless, and dumb- but maybe he could still help the Xexto kid.

True freedom was freedom of the soul, as Kanan would say; and he had learned that in a world where everyone was a slave to injustice; one good deed could make you a free man, even if you were in a jail cell.

He glanced towards the bald Trainer, who was having trouble to marking number three. He was preoccupied, and still a dozen feet away.

Ezra ducked his head into his chest, just a little and spoke softly, almost directly out the corner of his mouth. "Hey. Kid."

The Xexto boy reacted like he'd been struck, and his thin face jerked an inch towards Ezra. Eyes wide.
"Be cool kid. It's okay." Ezra quickly added, glancing between the Trainers and trying not to move his jaw to obviously.

The kid narrowed his eyes and his voice came out worried but at a whisper. "wh-what do you want?"

Ezra gave an inward sigh of relief, glad that the kid knew basic. He inclined his head to the man assigning numbers, who seemed to be having trouble programming The sharp woman's collar. She was glaring with dissatisfaction, while the reader was failing to connect with her collars signal.

Ezra did his best to give a friendly smile, without looking directly at the boy.
"Wanna trade places with me? You're standing where six will be. And six is kind of like, my number, see?"

The kid's grey eyes darted back to the man and then back on Ezra. "We'll get in trouble!" he hissed, pulling his thin shoulders up and trying to shrug his long neck into his small chest.

The shock collar looked loose on him, and hung down on his flat chest instead of sitting around his shoulders. That must chafe like kriff, Ezra noted. The boy shifted his feet just a little, trying to put more space between himself and the troublemaker.

Ezra frowned, he didn't want to draw attention to the kid, but if it looked like he wasn't going to agree to swap.

Hawk-Nose finally finished with number four and moved to number five with a stream of irritable muttering.

Ezra frowned. It wasn't likely the Ghost crew knew where he was, but anything he could do that might draw their attention- and only theirs, was worth the risk.

In for a credit, in for the cache, the other half of his brain said. How much worse could it get?

A lot, drawled another voice, one that sounded a lot more like Kanan everyday.

Ezra breathed shallow, and then sucked in a deeper breath. He hoped if anyone got in trouble for this, it was him, and not the kid.

"Excuse me, Sir?" Ezra said loudly, trying not to wince at the way everyone's head snapped towards him or the way his words echoed in the quiet hall.

The Trainer looked up sharply and narrowed his eyes. His expression looked torn between anger, and baffled surprise that Ezra had spoken out of turn. "What is it, candidate?!"

Ezra risked a short glance to the head Trainer standing a little ways behind Hawk-nose. He was looking towards Ezra, his face unreadable. If he really did care enough, maybe he was disappointed that the Kid was trying to get himself killed even after his advice. Ezra put his focus back on Hawk-nose, and slipped on his most placating, respectful, smile.

"I was wondering please, Sir, if the Xexto and I may swap places. I'd very much like to be number Six, Sir."

The man's eyes flashed on the Xexto boy briefly, who looked down at his feet and trembled. Deducing the kid wasn't involved, his attention snapped back to Ezra, his face was scrutinising. "You Want to be Number Six?" He demanded dryly, and somewhat sardonically.

"Yes Sir. I would." Ezra replied in his most sincere tone.

The man shifted for a moment then jutted his chin to the side, his bald head reflected the cheap filament lighting in the ceiling. Ezra was surprised he was actually considering it, and he could feel the air around him change as the other candidates sensed it too. This wasn't ideal...

Hawk nose furrowed his brow and glared hard at Ezra, who did his best to keep his face straight as the man's eyes bore into him. He could barely breathe and he forced himself not to flinch when the Trainer turned away sharply and gave one short glance over his shoulder to the Head Trainer.

The dark man was resting his chin on his chest, watching the interaction from under his thick brows. His expression gave nothing away, but Ezra saw, he gave Hawk nose a very clear short nod.

Hawk nose spun back around, his face twisted in annoyance. He snorted hot air though his beak nose. "Be quick about it." he snapped, indicating the switch should have already happened. "If you try anything, I'll fry you." he held out the data pad to make his point. Ezra didn't want to see what this shock collar could do.

Ezra nodded once, quickly and bowed his head a little. "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." he stepped out of line and moved behind the Xexto boy and slid in between him and the humanoid. The Xexto kid had to take a quick step to the right to avoid being shunted out of line and probably fried for it.

Once the line was resettled, Ezra stared straight ahead awaiting his turn. When the man stepped up he said "Number Six." in an exaggerated tone. Ezra lifted his chin and steeled his jaw in a way he remembered the Trooper cadets doing. The man almost, but not quite, rolled his eyes at him, snorting down on him with disdain. He lifted his data pad up to the shock collar.
Ezra swallowed, and heard it make a small beep. The data pad display added the number Six to the list. Ezra let out a breath, feeling light-headed.

Hawk-nose stared him down for just a moment, before turning, and stepping along the line.

"Number Seven." The Trainer announced, barely glanced at the Xexto boy. He pointed the scanner and the kid's thin lip trembled. The collar beeped and the man moved on to the Trandoshan.

"Number Eight."

Ezra waited until the Trainer was well along the line, near the Coralian man who became number eleven.
Then he inclined his head a little and in a soft voice said, "Thanks for the swap kid. And look how it turned out, now your number seven. That's a Lucky number."

The boy frowned at the wall across from them, avoiding Ezra's eyes. Ezra wondered if he was mad at him for getting the kid involved. Then the boy's mouth twisted, and ducked his head a little closer.

"If it's so lucky then why'd you give it up?" he demanded in a thin, angry voice.

Ezra shrugged. "I make my own luck."

The Trandoshan to their right let out a low rubbing growl and Ezra stood up straight. He did not risk opening his mouth again and neither did the Xexto, number Seven.

When the numbers were all assigned, Number one was taken away and they were sent to wait in their boxes.

Ezra sank against the walls of his box with a heavy sigh, resting his spine flat against the wall and letting his head fall back. His head was throbbing again and he was suddenly exhausted.
The collar settled uncomfortably under his jaw, and he bolt upright with an irritated growl ,and then turned angrily onto his side.

He ran an absent fingertip along the rough durocrete surface of the floor, thinking about the smooth panels of the ghosts walls. He withdrew his hand, letting his palm drag across the bumps and pulling his knuckles under his chin.

He closed his eyes, but his mind was too restless to fall immediately asleep.

He allowed himself to imagine his bunk. Warm, and secure, and Zeb's snoring drifting up from below. He thought about the texture of his blanket, and the musky familiar scent of cabin air.

It won't be long, and I'll be back there, he told himself firmly. I've just got to hang on for a little longer.

R&R for more chapters and more mind games.