A/N Warning - Interrogation in this chapter.
Coric attempted to push himself up.
"Lieutenant, as you were. Complete your treatment." the Commander ordered.
EmDee pushed him down.
He obeyed.
Looking at Ryssa, she was scared. There were four troopers, training to be Stormtroopers, you could not underestimate them and with her positioned in the middle, there was no way he could dispose of them without hurting her. She could be killed in the crossfire. EmDee was doing nothing; the droid was supposed to protect her but he was playing the loyal Imperial droid now.
"Yes sir."
It had to be bad if the Commander was actually doing the arresting; he usually left the dirty work to the plebes. He must have received a direct order from Rampart to get him off his backside to ensure it was done.
"This is a mistake. I've done nothing wrong." Ryssa protested her innocence, as she struggled to pull away from the Stormtroopers. He itched to drag her away from them but had to be free to help her.
His mind raced, the next freighter was due in two days, they observed the drop-off last night, identified the problems. Holos were useful but not enough; eyes on the ground were always best. They didn't have much prep time, they had to be ready to jump straight on it when it was leaving. Now this.
The Commander was a di'kut who followed orders to the letter; he arrested her, left the droid, assuming it was useless and the clone, assuming I was loyal.
Two mistakes.
.
"This has to be a mistake," Ryssa argued, before being pushed towards an area in the Garrison she had never been to, behind closed doors. No one had ever been in there, to her knowledge. There had never been any need for her to go there. The door shushed open and she was pushed in. She hit the floor, the smell of antibacterial cleaner hit the back of her throat, she gagged. The guards pulled her up. Pushing her towards chair, with attachments, in the centre on the room. She planted her feet on the floor, in an effort to stop them, trying to argue but they lifted her easily. Still struggling, she kicked out at them uselessly against their armour, she'd be lucky if they got a bruise. They pushed her into the chair, holding her down, as the arm and leg clamps automatically closed around her holding her tightly against it.
"Guard her. The Admiral is going to be here soon. He wants to undertake this personally."
The Commander didn't look back as he left, washing his hands of the whole sordid affair, leaving the two guards either side of the door; a little overkill really, she wasn't going anywhere, strapped to the chair.
Shit! There's no way out of this.
Tears pricked at her eyes. Blinking, she sniffed them back.
Memories of good times, his voice, his touch rose; she let them drift over her. It wasn't long enough, as the door shushed open and Rampart entered followed close behind by a black floating probe droid. It's drooping probes swaying elegantly underneath, like tentacles on some underwater creature from Mon Cala. She had never seen one like it.
"Baey."
His voice was unnaturally calm, given that someone he had personally chosen and worked with, had supposedly betrayed him. It was deceptive, she never saw the hand before it hit the side of her face. The pain reverberated through her head, as the coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth.
"Open her mouth. Check for suicide tabs."
Gloved hands prised open her jaw, yanking it down; shining a light inside, gloved fingers probed, she gagged again at the intrusion.
"Nothing sir." They backed away to the door, as Rampart circled the room, like a Nexu waiting to pounce. He never took his eyes off her. She tried but failed to keep him in her sight.
"Those cosmetically perfect teeth won't be there for much longer, especially when you're sent to Wobani, if not before. Weequay aren't particular where they fuck you."
The words sounded incongruous in his cultured Coruscanti accent. She knew he was trying to scare her; she also knew most of what he said was true.
The galaxy was not a safe place.
He leaned in, his breath hit her cheek, "If you cooperate I'll make it quick. I promise."
His face moved away, after a few seconds.
"Who are you working for?"
She clamped her mouth shut, muscles in her cheeks twitching.
He sighed, "I'll ask you again, who are you working for?"
Walking to the rear of the chair, his hand trailed on her shoulder until he returned to stand in front of her, his hand coming to rest on her chest, holding her in the chair.
"This chair is new." His eyes swept all over it, "as is the probe behind me." He looked behind himself, "prototypes—but they work well in tandem, very effective."
His hand moved up and around her neck; his thumb and forefinger positioned perfectly.
"But sometimes, one just has to keep in practice." He squeezed, tight, then tighter. She couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe. "I was very adept at this. Top of my class. I was the one Tarkin or the Emperor always requested, for their personal projects."
She struggled, ineffectively, bright spots flickering on the periphery of her vision. She jerked around involuntarily, her body's reaction to trying to get air into her lungs in any way but to no avail.
Her vision finally went, he let go, timing it to perfection; she took an automatic deep, shuddering, burning breath, desperately filling her lungs, her vision returned, slowly. Rampart was still in front of her.
"You were betrayed, you know." He leaned in, she was still breathing hard, dragging much needed oxygen into her lungs. "Someone on Mandalore. Is that where your fellow conspirators are based?"
He studied her reaction for several seconds, then pulled away.
"We'll get it out of you sooner or later. It'll be easier on you, if you tell me now."
He paused letting it sink in, no matter how angry or in a hurry you are, a good effective interrogation took time.
"Now who are you working for?"
"No one." She whispered.
"Liar."
She saw the hand this time and braced for it but that was worse. The split lip was beginning to close, opened up again, her tongue automatically flicked over it.
"Shave her head, put her in the brig. Let some of the new recruits prove themselves and soften her up before we begin properly."
Rampart left.
The shaving was rough and crude. They held her down, the blade blunt and the cuts burned into her scalp. She shivered as she sat back on the bunk waiting. What else could she do. She knew what he meant by 'soften her up.' The two guards watching her, nudged each other, their helmets moving slightly; they were having a conversation but were waiting for someone, or something. She tried not to imagine what they would do or how many of them. The mind is a powerful weapon in the hands of an interrogator, especially the imagination, invariably worse than reality. It tries to prepare your body for what's going to happen. She breathed, surprised at the shuddering way she released it; she couldn't tell them anything but she would have liked to know how they found out about her.
.
"Why the fek didn't you do anything?" Coric demanded of EmDee, still in the Medbay
"I calculated had we attempted to rescue her at that time, there was an eighty five percent chance that she would be killed in the close quarter firing or by being held as a shield by the Commander."
"Oh." coric paused, "it's roughly what I calculated, but now we need to find a way to get her out. Can you trace where she is?
"Interrogation room 2A."
"Fierfek! Keep me updated on her whereabouts."
He jammed on his bucket and left the droid standing there. He needed some things from the armoury and hoped they weren't using the new chair and probe. He'd read the specs; it was designed for Republic Intelligence, now ISB. He checked the corridor before slicing into the empty armoury. He sliced the records database before pulling out a snipers bag and filling it with everything he could think they would need. Amended the data so that it would look like a load of the newbies had signed out a cache of arms, then headed to his quarters and stowed them in his locker.
His Bucket pinged.
"Yes EmDee?"
"She's in the brig."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Kriffing hell!" His mind went to Coruscant, Order 66 and the shit show that followed; he knew what happened to the padawan prisoners there who were kept alive in the Detention Centre. He'd had a stint but nowhere near the prisoners; it was bad enough elsewhere. His mind raced with everything he had to do.
The two guards came to attention as he entered. His eyes flicked over to her sitting on the bunk. Kriff, they'd shaved her head, and not gently. Rampart was going for the full humiliation before interrogation.
He nodded to the guards and tapped on the control panel to disable the ray shield. Her head slowly rose for a second, then dropped back down.
"Sir?"
"Scram!"
"We were told to wait."
"What?"
"We were told to wait." The hesitancy in his voice gave away his status as a newby.
"No! You scram. I'm not going to give you a free show to wank at, when you're lonely in your bunk tonight."
The silent one shuffled slightly.
"Or is it, that you fucking need to be shown what to karking do?" His faceless bucket fixed on them, intimidating even to some of the newbies. "Scram! Outside! Now!" He made a movement at then causing them to back away quickly.
Checking the security cam, he put himself in front of it. He heard some sounds from outside; EmDee was there keeping the boys occupied.
"Ryssa look at me. Trust me." His voice low, he couldn't tell from her expression what her state of mind was, "I'm not going to hurt you but we have to make it look good, okay? Has anyone else been in here. Done anything to you?"
She looked at him with wide eyes, before shaking her head.
"Don't do anything just lie there."
He stepped nearer to her, she pulled back away from him. She was scared already. "Trust me." She closed her eyes slowly, he saw the tears leak out of the side of her eyes. It was going to look good whatever he did. He hoped this would stop more coming here. He pulled off his cod piece and threw it to the side, and yanked her trousers down. The look on her face nearly killed him but it had to look good.
Force help him. He had always wanted part of this to be real.
He went through the motions, the grinding, the noises. He hoped it looked good because the troopers would study it, not because they had to but for recreational purposes.
"Slap me, when I get up." He whispered, "I'm sorry." He moved away, she swung her arm to slap him but her caught it, pulling her close again. "Tell them what they need." He leaned on close again.
"I don't know anything."
"I'm sorry." He whispered, "You know I don't mean this."
He jerked away from her holding his lip.
"Bitch!" There was blood dripping down his face, Ryssa stared at it; she hadn't done anything. She had not made contact. He held her head and swung at her; her eyes closed involuntarily as he missed and hit his vambrace but it made a good slapping sound. Hopefully they wouldn't look too carefully for bruises.
He reattached his codpiece, throwing her trousers at her, "Cover yourself up, traitor."
Turning his back to her, he didn't see the tears pouring down her face, until he returned to reactivate the ray shield before he left.
He had never felt so low.
The guards were still outside as he left, EmDee hovering in the background; he drew himself up, knowing he looked imposing even in the new armour. "She's mine, I'm not finished yet. No one touches her, understand."
"But Sir….."
His forefinger was two inches from the newbies' faceplate.
"Anyone who touches her will be fucking wetting their body suit, pissing through a hole instead of a cock for the rest of their fucking days. Got it!"
He stormed off, hearing the "Sir yessir," behind him. He and the droid had things to do. They needed to keep her out of anyone's hands until the next night. It just depended on how desperate Rampart was. Coric hoped he was patient enough to play the waiting game.
.
They came for her early the next morning, dragging her back to that room, that chair and that probe droid.
Rampart watched, as the probe droid worked. The Commander was brought in, looking distinctly uncomfortable. He didn't know her but he checked her record; she was very efficient and there had been no lapses in protocol. A good Imperial.
Her eyes followed the tentacle, as it completed the first injections, within seconds the drowsiness hit her, then the feeling of floating on air, lulling you into a false sense of security, until it fully hit the blood stream, then the agony, like acid burning through your veins seeping into every part of you. A scream echoed around the room; Ryssa felt sorry for that person but she couldn't help them, she was in agony herself and trying to stay in control. Then it slowly ebbed away and the drowsiness came back.
"We'll start with an easy question. Why?"
"Why what?" She thought, or did she say that; it was difficult to know.
"Why spy on the Empire?"
"Not spying, seeing." Her head dropped to one side; she tried to pull it backs but couldn't. It was too difficult. She gave up and left it lolling there.
"Stims."
The probe injected her neck.
Ryssa jerked her head back up, the rush of energy unexpected. What had happened what had she said?
"What information have you sent and to whom?" Rampart asked.
"None."
"Why are you here."
"For Empire." She was getting drowsy again.
"Sir," the Commander interrupted, "could she be telling the truth?"
Ramparts head swivelled around to face the Commander.
"We've checked, she's sent nothing from Raxus, Ryloth or here. To anyone." He continued.
"We may have caught her just in time then. She was on Imperial City, check there. Take her back to the brig. Then we'll get back to this."
"What if she is innocent?" the Commander queried.
"Then she be a useful deterrent."
.
The bright lights forced their way through her eyelids, waking her slowly; then the feeling of pressure, of being pushed down there, on her hips, in there. She tried to move but hands were holding her down. Her drugged brain finally came to the realisation of what they were doing. She bucked trying to move; threw her head forward and hit something hard but it bloody hurt.
"Fucking Hell! Hold her down."
Hands pushed on her shoulders harder, in response. She turned to side, no fight left in her.
He pulled out and pushed her away; she landed on the floor, the burning inside no longer simply from the drugs. She scrambled away to the corner, her instinct to survive kicking in. She wrapped her arms around her knees.
"Traitor!" One of the troopers hissed.
She closed her eyes and ears. This wasn't happening to her. It was another Ryssa.
That's another Ryssa sitting on the floor hurting.
It's not happening to me.
It's not me.
it's not me.
She kept up the mantra, sitting in the corner, rocking.
The lights dimmed; it must be evening they sometimes did this to keep the sleep cycles the same. Either that or they were still messing with her head. It felt odd, as her eyelids drooped. She closed her eyes.
.
A hand shook her shoulder; she jerked awake from an uneasy sleep and instinctively moved away.
"It's Coric."
She blinked a few times. Whatever cocktail of drugs they gave her was playing havoc with her eyesight. She struggled to focus.
"It's time to go. The freighter's here, on schedule."
"Frei…..?"
"No time to explain." He jabbed the stim in her neck, one more drug wouldn't make any difference. He could literally see the energy course through her. She almost jumped up.
"It's that time already how long have I been out?"
"Too long. Come on. Stick with me." He stepped over the bodies on the floor; Ryssa stepped on them, because she could.
"Good to see you EmDee." There were two more bodies outside the brig.
"Good to see you too, Doctor." His photoreceptors brightened as he said that. "The next few corridors are clear and there's no alarm." They only reached the end of the second corridor before the siren sounded.
Coric signalled them to stop. Then he headed around the corner. There was muffled grunts and sounds of scuffling.
"Its clear." his voice came back.
It was then she heard the footsteps; several troopers running down the corridor towards them. Blaster shots rang out and she felt a slight burn on her side, must have grazed her skin. She ignored it, running around the corner and it wasn't until she reached Coric, she realised EmDee wasn't with her. She turned back.
"What the..we're nearly there."
Poking her head around the corner, EmDee was doing an enviable impression of a stun stick as the last one went down. He headed towards her but a blaster bolt managed to hit him on one of his servos.
"EmDee hurry up."
"I am behind you."
Ryssa ran towards Coric who had reached the freighter and heaved the droids out of the cargo hold, kicking them off the edge of the platform. They clattered down the mountainside, disintegrating on the way down. Ryssa ran up the ramp, her breathing becoming more difficult. She felt winded but stood hanging on to the handhold waiting for EmDee.
He made it onto the ramp, just as they were pulling away. She held her hand out to him.
"Ryssa strap in."
"I'm not leaving him." she replied, voice distraught. Coric looked back seeing EmDee barely holding onto the ramp with one hand.
"It's only a droid."
"EmDee!"
The droid climbed up the ramp painfully slowly, as blaster fire continued to burst around them.
"Ryssa, hold on tight. I mean really hold on." She wrapped her arms through a pipe and interlaced her fingers, hugging it, the freighter lurched forward, in a downward trajectory, the momentum pulling EmDee to the top of the ramp and into the hold. He skittered down the now closing ramp. The door finally closed behind him, as his photoreceptors dimmed and flickered. Ryssa slid to the floor.
"Shut down, save your charge." She placed her hand, gently on his head. She wasn't leaving it to be scrapped or dissected, it didn't deserve that and if they did get into his memory bank there was no telling what they would find there.
"If you've finished, get the Fek strapped in." Coric yelled.
She winced at the persistent pain in her side but strapped in and dropped her head back on the headrest; the stims were wearing off. The Empire's drugs were still in her system but she had no strength left to fight any of them and gave into the darkness.
.
Their pursuers were dogged, he would give them that; they were still being followed until they entered hyperspace, once in he relaxed, a little. Never more happy to see the stars streaming by. He sank into his seat and looked around. The droid was deactivated and Ryssa, she looked a mess.
He ejected his vibroblade, it was awkward but he pulled up his blacks sleeve, found his tracking chip in his arm and cut it out. He did the same for Ryssa, then put both on the floor and crushed them with the tip if his vibroblade, then he started to clean her up.
He woke with a start, the hyperdrive overload warning was beeping, he hadnt realised it had been hit but he didn't know enough to repair it. He nursed it, keeping it ticking over until it finally went offline and they dropped out of hyperspace with a violent shudder. They may just make it to Mandalore, albeit slowly.
He turned to check her, she was still unconscious. He looked over his shoulder, the droid was still closed down. So he had no distractions. He checked his position; a couple more hours and they would be there.
He jabbed another stim in. He had to stay awake.