When I woke up the next morning, 9-E was noticeably absent. Usually, the droid meandered around the room until I followed it to breakfast. My unsupervised curiosity got the best of me, and I inspected the one thing that the BB unit would never let me touch: the force field. Following it around the entire perimeter of the room, I couldn't find any visible power supply. The only exposed panel was next to the door on the other side. As I stared at it, it suddenly shut itself off.
I immediately surged forward and frantically waved my hand over the door's bioreader. A computer voice said, "Error—user not recognized. Error—user not recognized."
To my shock, the door slid open of its own volition. A Stormtrooper stood on the other side. "Hey," said a male voice with matching surprise. "Were you trying to get out?"
Deciding it was useless to lie, I said, "Yes."
He shifted uncomfortably. "That's, uh...not good."
A moment of silence passed during which I eyed his sidearm. It was the same handheld blaster that I had frequently checked out of the armory. When he noticed me looking, he rested his hand on his holster.
"Your droid is in maintenance, so...I'm your warden for now," he explained, his voice filtering through his helmet. My eyes went to the insignia on his collar, and I widened the distance between my feet.
"Private, prison wardens are usually Corporals and up," I said, crossing my arms over my chest. "Are you sure you reported to the right station?"
"Affirmative," the young Trooper replied. I could hear the annoyance in his voice, and I resisted a smile. "No more attitude or I'll draw my blaster on you. Understood?"
I raised my chin indignantly. You're not his superior anymore. "Yes."
"Anyway, I need to take you to that mess hall down there." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "Are you going to come willingly?"
I quirked an eyebrow. "Lead the way," I said with a gesture.
He stepped aside. "After you."
I hated the thought of him behind me. As walked down the familiar corridor, a storm of ideas erupted in my mind. The sudden change in my routine awakened my imagination. Instead of focusing on the mindless task like I usually did, I took notice of the other doors in the hallway. Locked doors that could hold anything—weapons, other prisoners? My mind screamed: Vegas!
Calmly entering the mess hall, I greeted the cook as normal and began filling a plate. He returned the greeting, his eyes darting to the new Stormtrooper with unease. As I took my usual seat, my warden stood awkwardly by. The food was tasteless as my thoughts continued to race.
"You're Corporal Caltrel, aren't you?"
I turned towards the Trooper in surprise. "I was," I said grimly.
He crossed his arms over his breastplate, a casual gesture. "You defected," he went on. When I nodded blankly, he asked, "Why did you do it?"
I continued to look at him with a vacant expression. He got the idea before too long, and his gaze dropped to the floor. I suddenly got the sense that this Private was very young and naive. "Why do you think I did it?" I asked him.
"I don't know," he answered with a shrug. "There are rumors. I don't know if I believe any of them."
My curiosity piqued. "Like what?"
"Like, you were undercover for the Resistance. Or, like, you had something to do with Supreme Leader Snoke's...you know."
Turning my attention back to my hot breakfast, I murmured, "Those are some rumors."
"Yeah," the Trooper laughed nervously.
An idea suddenly popped into my mind like a light turning on. The idea of seeing Vegas began to materialize, but I needed this young Stormtrooper to trust me. If not trust, maybe respect.
"Do you have any friends serving in the Reaches?" I asked with a sideways glance.
"No, but my one friend served with you on a mission to the Outer Rim. Thomas Astra," he said.
I recalled the desert mission, more than half a year before, as though it were yesterday. It was my first time leading Stormtroopers into combat. It was my first exposure to Ren's ability to slaughter indiscriminately. It was the mission that had almost taken Vegas' life.
"I remember Thomas," I said. "He was very brave."
The Trooper nodded silently, eyes fixed on the ground. "He was on Starkiller."
I winced. "I'm sorry. He died with honor."
"Nope," came his swift retort. "Damn Resistance."
I shook my head in disbelief, thinking of all the lives lost on Starkiller. Having lived on the base for several months, it was impossible to imagine the whole planet being destroyed. Many innocent people had died—and for what? The Resistance and ultimately the New Republic were just as guilty as the First Order for perpetuating the war. The plate of food before me suddenly looked unappetizing.
Standing up, I took my half-eaten meal to the disposal. The Private followed at my heels. I decided it was as good a time as any to set my plan into motion.
Rounding on him, I chirped, "So, normal schedule for the day?"
He hesitated—a good sign. "Affirmative...what do you usually do next?"
"I usually see Sergeant Vegas after breakfast, but..." I shrugged. "If that's too much, I can skip a day."
"Sergeant Vegas?" His voice revealed his surprise. "In the isolation ward?"
I nodded. For a moment, I thought he might be onto me, but then he gestured for me to lead the way out the door.
"After you," he said.
My nerves picked up once we were out in the hallway. I wasn't familiar with this part of the ship, but the "isolation ward" didn't sound like it could be anywhere near a mess hall or a med bay. So, I turned in the opposite direction of my cell and started walking. I was supposed to be making this trip daily, so I couldn't afford to take any wrong turns.
I squeezed my sweaty palms together as the Stormtrooper's footsteps followed after me.
Luckily for me, there was a biometric reader on the door at the end of the hall. I lagged behind as the Trooper waved his palm over it. He instinctively walked through the door and then gestured for me to follow. He was facing to the right.
From there, I saw a plaque over the next section of corridors which read "Isolation." It had an arrow pointing to the left. I thanked the stars for my good fortune.
The entrance to the ward was guarded by a faceless Sergeant in Stormtrooper armor. He stood when we entered the room, and the Private approached him with a salute. "Sergeant," he greeted. "Here to see the prisoner."
The Sergeant gave me a lingering glance. My orange prisoner's clothing was hard to miss. "You're here on orders?" he asked gruffly.
"Yes," the Private replied.
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Whose orders? Mine? Ha!
After another lengthy pause, the Sergeant gave a terse nod. "Cell six," he said.
The isolation rooms on the Supremacy were much like the ones on Starkiller. The hallway leading to the cells was dark, and each heavy door had one small window. I thought back to my time in confinement on Starkiller, with one Sergeant Vegas as my warden. Once we reached the sixth door, the Private gestured to it.
"I'll wait out here," he said.
"Thanks," I simply said, not wanting to try my luck any further.
I grasped the lock and twisted it to open the cell door, pushing in as I did so. When I stepped through the door, bright lights switched on. Vegas lay on the empty floor, clearly startled awake by the intrusion. The cell door slammed shut behind me.
"John," I breathed, dropping to my knees. I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "John, it's me."
Grabbing my hand off his shoulder, he pushed himself upright and blinked rapidly at me. I noticed the black eye and swollen lip immediately. "Lucy?" he rasped.
"Yes," I said, brushing my hand across his undamaged cheek. "Are you alright?"
"I'm alive," he said cryptically, adjusting myself to lean against the wall. I sat beside him, looking up at his bruised face. "It looks worse than it feels. Trust me."
I shook my head in disbelief. "Who...?"
"It was Ren," he said, touching his lip with a wince. "He interrogated me a day after we arrived. I've been here ever since."
I felt anger erupt inside of me. How can Ren treat him like this while I'm living in the lap of luxury? I quickly remembered the reason: the baby.
"The craziest part is," Vegas continued, shaking his head, "he didn't even care about why I defected. He didn't care at all." Resting his arms on his drawn-up knees, he looked up at me. "He was just mad that I took you with me."
I swallowed thickly. Unable to think of a graceful way of bringing it up, I blurted out, "I'm pregnant."
His expression became crestfallen. "Gods," he swore. "I'm sorry."
"It's...fine," I said.
"Ren's?"
"Yes."
Vegas sighed deeply. "Well...at least...they're treating you well," he said, his eyes studying me tiredly.
"They are," I confirmed, hesitantly glancing around the room. There was no bed or shower, just a simple fresher. The four dark walls were oppressive and claustrophobic.
Vegas rested his forehead on his arms. "Have you seen him?"
"Yes...," I trailed off, trying to find the right words to say. "He's been...better."
His head shot up. "Lucy, really?" he breathed incredulously.
Did I just describe Kylo Ren as " better "?
"I—I mean..." I shook my head at a loss for words. "He's been...accommodating."
Vegas stared at me, jaw unhinged. "Are you resisting at all? Are you planning to escape?"
"No, I haven't been resisting," I said, pulling my eyebrows together. "And neither should you."
He let out a breath of a laugh. "Are you crazy?" he whispered under his breath.
"John, we're not prisoners of war awaiting execution. I don't know about you, but I want to get out of this alive." I gestured between us as though this should be obvious.
Vegas was shaking his head with a scornful look on his face. "I c—can't believe this," he said, voice cracking. "Nothing has changed. You're still his."
Sadness exploded inside of me. "I'm not. You know as well as I do that he doesn't give a damn about me. He just wants me to have this child." I pointed at myself emphatically. "That's my ticket to staying alive. What's yours?"
Vegas blinked up at me with shock and worry crowding his eyes. My mind repeated my own words to me, and I became afraid.
With a clack, the cell door swung open, just barely missing my ankles. "It's been, um, five minutes," said the Trooper on the other side.
I looked Vegas right in the eyes, hoping to communicate my thoughts directly into his mind. Be careful! His worried eyes stared back at me as I stood. "I'll see you soon," I said as the cell door clamored shut.
"Alright, I have to take you back now," the Trooper said. I nodded and turned down the hallway, feeling an unwelcome swell of emotion in my chest. That might be the last time I see John.
That might be the last time I see John.
Biting the inside of my lip, I nodded to the Sergeant as we passed by his desk. He nodded back. Out in the corridor, my warden cleared his throat under his helmet.
"Good visit?"
I was glad to be walking in front of him as my eyes watered, blurring my vision. I just hummed in response, not trusting my own voice. Maneuvering back to my cell on autopilot, I focused on keeping my tears at bay. I walked through the open door without a second thought.
"I'll let you know if I hear anything about your droid," the Private said, his hand hovering over the external door control. "And...I'm sorry about your friend."
Vegas' bruised and bloody face flashed in my mind. I swallowed hard. "Thank you."
The door snapped shut and the force field came to life.
Making a run for the bedroom, I threw myself onto the bed and pressed my face into a pillow. Hot tears came quickly, soaking through the thin cloth easily. I couldn't get the image of Vegas out of my mind. He didn't deserve any of it. If anything, I deserved it.
Vegas left the First Order because of senseless killing. I left because it was a convenient escape. Vegas did everything to keep us from falling apart after we left, and I did virtually nothing. I was just a burden. Even Ren indicated Vegas would still be free if it weren't for me.
I slammed my fist into the mattress and growled in frustration.
