The first thing that struck me as wrong was the silence. No rumble of ship engines to soothe me back to sleep. The second thing was the darkness. I never woke up during the night cycle unless my sister was kicking me in the back, and she moved off our homeship years ago.
I sat up with a jerk, reaching for sheets or pillows or anything. My foot found the edge of the bed quickly, and when my toes touched the cold floor, I froze.
I don't know where I am.
The coldness traveled up my leg and up my spine until my whole body was covered in goosebumps. As my racing thoughts tried to make sense of the situation, the whole atmosphere seemed to change around me. The air smelled different, the temperature was too cold, and even the gravity felt wrong.
"This is your final warning. Put down your weapons and surrender immediately."
Memories of the attack came rushing back, painting a nightmarish scene in my brain. I felt cold, and it wasn't from the floor. My face seemed to be numb. I wondered if I was the only survivor.
After a few minutes of mental debate, I stood on shaky legs in an attempt to find some light. I heard nothing—no humming engines or droids buzzing down the hall. I sensed I was in a small space, but that was all. After a few steps, a light suddenly turned on, forcing me to cover my eyes for a moment.
It appeared to be a compact refresher with motion-detecting lights. I looked into the mirror above the sink—the harsh light washed out my pale skin and blue eyes. The gray jumper I was now wearing had a small black emblem on it, and I pulled it away from my body to get a better view. I identified it immediately.
The First Order.
In front of me stood a metal door with a small glass window.
I sprang for it, grappling with bolts and seams vaguely resembling buttons and levers. The square window was too high for me to see through, so I jumped and stole brief glimpses outside. A dark corridor. The night cycle?
I backed away from the door, mentally picturing a group of Stormtroopers marching down the hall. I'd seen the Resistance's propaganda holovids of the First Order, and they weren't pretty. I could only imagine how they treated their prisoners. Wait...
"I'm a prisoner?" I heard my own voice whisper.
I nearly screamed when I heard the clank of heavy gears turning, and then the door was opening. A human in a dark gray uniform stood in the doorway. When his searching eyes found me cowering in the corner, he pointed at me. His voice was brisk.
"You, up. We need to ask some questions."
I let him spin me around and restrain my hands behind my back. He guided me down the corridor from behind, his hand tight on my bound wrists. As we walked in silence, I built up enough courage to speak.
"Where am I?" I asked in a barely-there voice.
He did not respond.
I was silent for several heartbeats. "Why am I here?"
"You know why," he said irritably.
We were approaching another door. I felt my pulse begin to race, filling my ears. "My companions, are they—"
The door suddenly swooshed open, stealing the words from my lips. I stood toe-to-toe with a looming figure so tall that my eyes only reached mid-chest. I jerked backward, knocking into the warden who stood like a wall behind me. His grip tightened.
"This is the only one?" a calm, mechanical voice asked.
The figure stepped away, and I could finally breathe again. It was dressed in all black, from its helmet to its billowing cloak.
"Yes, sir."
My warden gave me a small shove, and the door closed behind us. My feet moved on their own as he pulled me to the lone chair in the middle of the room. He sat me down and fixed my bindings to the back of it. The cold metal bit at every centimeter of skin it touched. Tears welled in my eyes.
The voice spoke again, louder.
"Leave us."
The warden did a salute—a fist to his chest and then into the air—and left. I heard the door slide shut behind him.
The masked figure walked around me with heavy footsteps. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from my eyes. My heart thundered in my ears, even louder than my ragged breathing, and my stomach twisted into knots. When the figure left my peripheral vision, I gasped and turned my head. It came around the other side a moment later, standing directly in front of me. I couldn't see higher than its belt, which was thankfully void of weapons.
To my horror, it began to crouch until its masked face was right in front of me. I shrank back into my seat, taken with utter panic. Every second seemed to last an eternity.
"Who are you?" it asked, eerily soft.
I turned my head and squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by fear. "P—Please," I sputtered.
Gloved fingers pinched my chin and turned my head, causing my eyes to pop open. The voice was soft and curious behind the expressionless mask.
"Please what?"
I let out a strained sob, my throat closing up as if I'd swallowed glue. "Let me go," I squeaked, more air than voice.
The hand disappeared, and both hands came to rest on the armrests of my chair. I felt like a caged animal, starved of freedom. A slightly demanding tone replaced the softness.
"Not until I know who you are."
I felt a spark of hope at the thought of being released.
"I'm nobody," I gasped out. "I know nothing about the war or the Resistance. So p—please...let me go..."
The figure withdrew, and my spark burst into a flame. It stepped back with one hand behind its back and the other raised between us.
"Lucia Caltrel," it stated. "Human. Twenty-four. Daughter of Theo Caltrel, Chief Ambassador of the nomadic Andromeda Fleet. Scientists and researchers renowned for their dependability who work for anyone wealthy enough to hire them. Even the First Order."
I blinked, surprised that the holonet had so much information about us. The voice grew quieter.
"Born into the prestigious diplomat caste. Her father expects her to one day take his place, demanding perfection at every turn." Then, deathly quiet: "But Lucia doesn't wish to be a diplomat."
My mouth fell open as my stomach dropped to my knees. The voice became just a murmur mingled with static.
"She longs for a life that she will never have. A life of adventure. And danger." The helmet tilted, quizzical. "Don't you?"
My breath hitched when I suddenly realized I was not alone in my own mind. My head shot to the side, looking for an intruder who wasn't there. A low hum came through the mask, and the outstretched hand went gracefully behind his back. And I was alone with my thoughts.
"H—H—How did you do that?" I breathed.
"The second time will not be as pleasant," the figure informed me. "Are you ready to answer my questions, Miss Caltrel?"
I glanced over my shoulder one last time. It wasn't some kind of mind-reading technology—it was him. My eyes then became glued to the floor, and I nodded.
"What is a nomad doing in the Unknown Regions?" he asked briskly.
I swallowed. "My people want to buy land. They sent surveyors to different planets."
"Why?"
"Future-proofing."
The helmet nodded twice, and I felt myself involuntarily relax at the human gesture. "Who were the others that were with you?"
"The land broker. And his crew."
"Did you know them well?"
"No."
"That's fortunate."
A shiver traveled up my spine as images of the massacre flashed in my mind. My heart rate increased, doubling when my interrogator suddenly crouched in front of me again. His hands were low this time, palms open nonthreateningly.
"One final question," he murmured.
I nodded attentively.
"Why did you lie to me?"
I shook my head vehemently. "I didn't lie to you."
"Yes, you did." His tone was plain. "About Coruscant."
My mind immediately went to the trip I took with my dad a few months ago. I started panicking, racking my brain for the information that he wanted. What were their names? Every single muscle in my body tensed. What were their names!
"Um...I...I can't remember..."
"Oh, you can."
I flinched when a gloved hand appeared in front of my face. I suddenly felt disoriented, and I berated myself for getting distracted at such a dire time. Trying to refocus, I winced when my mind was taken off somewhere again. Something isn't right.
Then I was pulled, roughly, back to the conference room in the Capital. I cried out as my head throbbed like it was being torn in two. My restraints chaffed my wrists as I thrashed, trying to escape this bizarre torture. An invisible force suddenly pinned me down, completely immobilizing my body.
Every word spoken between Senator Elias and my dad passed through my mind in a matter of seconds, including the mention of his generous financial donation to the Resistance. As the rest of my trip played out in my mind, I realized that the less I resisted, the less pain I felt. Panting, I peered up at the mask.
"Senator Elias of Chandrila," the voice said loud. "And who else?"
But my thoughts didn't shift to who else. My thoughts focused on the machine of a man before me that was somehow inside my very mind. I gazed into the opaque visor, filled with awe at the power that seemed to emanate from within. I could have sworn I saw eyes staring back at me. When I tried to reach back into his mind, it felt like running headlong into a durasteel bulkhead.
"Enough," he snapped.
I felt his presence anew, guiding my thoughts back to Coruscant. The restaurant on a rooftop—the one owned by Commander Dax of the New Republic Rangers. He sat at our table for hours, but he couldn't convince my dad to work for him. My lips moved of their own accord, mouthing his words: "I am no soldier."
And then it was over. He stepped away.
My breaths were shallow and ragged as I hung my head tiredly. The gravity of my mistake immediately began to sink in. I felt the possibility of freedom grow smaller and smaller in my mind.
"I'm sorry," I breathed fearfully. "I would have told you if I remembered. I was just...scared."
His voice was soft. "Mm, I believe you."
I glanced up at him hopefully.
"It's a shame we have to kill you."
"Wh—What?"
The room fell out from under me as I pictured my fate. Adrenaline poured through my veins, and my voice became hoarse with the violent pounding of my heart. My entire body trembled as my eyes flooded with tears.
"Please...," I whimpered, "I d—don't want to die."
I could only hear the voice, filled with sympathy.
"I know."
The floodgates unleashed as I sobbed uncontrollably, dropping my head toward my heaving chest. My shoulders bowed and my knees rattled together as my touch with reality slipped away. I'm going to die!
Relief only came when the touch of gloved fingers on my temple pulled me into unconsciousness.
