Author's Note: Happy New Year, readers! Thank you for all of your love and support of this story as it enters another year! Holy kriff, it's getting old. Will this story finish by the end of this year? We'll find out! Regardless I appreciate you all so much and hope you enjoy today's chapter.

~ Sparks

ADVISORY: The following chapter contains sensitive material relating to: Trauma, physical abuse, and violence. Remember to practice self care before, during, and after reading.

Chapter: 133 Savages

- ACCESSING IMPERIAL NETWORK -

IHC: Imperial High Command to all outposts in the Jedha System. Expect higher volumes of mining freighters as excavations are set to begin in Jedha this month. Please ensure that all hyperspace lanes to the Imperial Center for Military Research on Scarif are clear.

Dee had always been so plucky and full of life. Attentive eyes and a mop of frizzy hair that was constantly bobbing with her swiveling head. She was always on the move, yearning for more in a galaxy constantly telling her what she couldn't do. Dee was the ideal rebel. But that valiant spirit crumbled under pressure. It cracked just as easy as her skull did with the swing of a tentpole in the dead of night. And as Dee's body lay motionless against a thin tarp, she was quickly zipped up.

She might've been a friend to the surviving trio of Kyber Squad, but for the Imperials...she was incident casualty number eighteen of twenty-three. Twenty-three body bags were piled into an airspeeder's carrier bed, their stench barely contained amid the malodorous corral itself. As they were hauled away for incineration the critically wounded prisoners were taken for treatment. At least, one would hope that's what would happen. Unwilling to risk a surprise execution, Lain obscured any injuries he'd sustained in the night raid and did his best to stay on program. Still, his cough persisted as a stormtrooper glanced over. Excusing it for the corral's normal conditions, he paid little mind to Lain's condition.

Little Tooka was a shivering wreck. While he tried his best to console her, Beni feared that his well-intentioned ruse had run its course. For there was no spinning the brutality of the night. How prisoners had beaten some of their own to death and nearly taken her in the process. He peered down and caught her staring off. Gone were the Twi'lek's inquisitive eyes. Instead, she found herself trembling at the sight of mangled, twitching limbs under fallen tents. Bruised and bloodied faces emerged as prisoners helped each other recover. Stormtroopers shoved them out of the wreckage before yelling for them to get on program.

"Little Tooka," Beni croaked. No matter how hard he tried to come up with a clever story, all he could do was utter, "I'm right here. It's going to be alright. Just keep your hands on your head and do what the troopers say. It will be okay." Tooka gasped, realized she'd barely let herself breathe, and nodded.

As Kristoff and Sven remained on program, the Cevrian muttered. "I swear it was her," Kristoff whispered. Thinking it over in his head, he recalled the vicious image he'd seen in the night: Lyn Ferix rejoicing with her cruel gang. "This is a nightmare..."

Just outside of the corral, Warden Hyren took his time walking along one of the sentry watchtowers. His cybernetic eyes buzzed as he zoomed in on the carnage below. Wrinkling his nose both at the sight and stench, he recoiled and prepared to descend. As he attached a ventilator mask to his face, he heard several patters on a datapad just behind him.

Fresh from the academy, this youthful officer only matched Hyren in paleness. And while her cap was tucked as far as humanly possible, it couldn't shroud the freckles scattered across her face. Traces of her buzzcut faded up towards the cap's edges as she slowly raised her illuminated eyes. And as the datapad powered down, those gentle...brown pools of her stayed bright. "I just had more tents ordered, sir," she said.

"Cancel it," Hyren answered while continuing downstairs.

"I-...I don't understand," the young officer uttered.

Hyren's cape swished with his flustered turn. How he loathed repeating himself in any fashion as he jabbed a finger at the datapad. "The tents, Lieutenant Croy. What are they teaching at the academy these days? More tents means more tentpoles. Why would we order more tentpoles so the animals can beat each other senseless with them? We might be in the Mid Rim, but that doesn't mean we can use spending to our advantage. If it isn't used for mining equipment, we don't need it. Now cancel that order."

Croy sighed deeply, cancelled the request, and then fastened her ventilator. "What of the conflict, sir?" she asked.

"You've just arrived, Croy." Hyren replied. "You have much to learn of Wobani's system outside and inside its corrals. Follow me." Escorted by a squad of stormtroopers, the warden and his lieutenant entered the Grand Corral. Other troops were still cleaning up the wreckage and shoving inmates out of the way. Hyren stomped through the scene, eerily scanning over the terrain with his mechanical eyes. With nothing beyond the top of his face visible, he looked like a probe droid watching over his prisoners. Meanwhile, Croy's eyes twitched as her brows furrowed. She couldn't tell if she was growing emotional...or nauseated by the sight of such grotesque living conditions. She tensed as the stormtroopers propped the remnants of a tent back into place. While it would serve as a shelter once more, they didn't bother to remove the splotchy bloodstains coating its tarp.

As Hyren and Croy proceeded to a cleaner portion of the corral, they found themselves in Rancor territory. Before the stormtroopers could bark a single command, Lyn did it for them. "You know the drill, Rancors!" she shouted proudly. "On program!" While prison life had slightly diminished her physique, her toned biceps still flexed as she placed her hands on her head. Lyn carried herself with a bold smirk as Jub hobbled beside her. The Imperials watched as the Rancors assembled, practically forming their own army of the strongest prisoners around. As they stood for inspection, Croy couldn't help but notice how the majority of them were unscathed from the raid compared to other groups. She also noticed how well maintained their larger tent seemed to be. Taking notes on her datapad, she continued to walk alongside Hyren.

Watching the prison authorities just pass the Rancors by made Kristoff's blood boil. His heart thundered in his chest as Hyren and Croy made their way over. Every fleeting moment had Kristoff's breaths hastening, especially once he heard Lyn and Jub sharing a laugh in the distance. Hyren sneered, looking over how scuffed up the adjacent inmates were compared to the Rancors. While Croy finished taking notes, he huffed and made his decree. "Lieutenant. Mark a confirmed twenty-three casualties with minimal damage to the holding corral." He then turned to a nearby trooper. "Captain Moltre, have these prisoners report to mining ops effective immediately and-"

"What?" Kristoff blurted, causing Lain to shudder.

"Stand down soldier," Lain whispered sharply.

But the damage was done and Kristoff knew it. Hyren's blood-red stare fell upon him, every gear in his artificial optics clacking to focus. Without removing himself from the on program stance, Kristoff used his eyes to point towards the Rancors. "That group attacked us," he said. "They killed prisoners! You said to stay in our lanes, but what do you call that?"

Hyren didn't even flinch, slowly shifting his gaze to the Rancors across the way. And as his eyes fell back to Kristoff, he simply said, "Bring him to me."

At the warden's command, two stormtroopers shuffled through the inmates and rushed Kristoff. One was quick to strike him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As Kristoff fell forward, he could hear Sven's protesting wails just behind him.

"Let's go!" a stormtrooper shouted. "Move it!" As Kristoff wearily glanced back, he could see his companions being ushered to another corral to begin mining again. It wasn't long before plastoid arms were digging under his own. They dragged Kristoff to Hyren, ultimately throwing him to his feet. Croy flinched at the sight as Hyren barely budged.

Containing himself until Kristoff was starting to rise, Hyren reached under his cape and unclipped a dark hilt. With a flick of his wrist, he ignited an electrified...retractable wire. This powerful lightwip snaked upward as Hyren brought it sailing downward. While its tip cracked against Kristoff's shoulder, it sent a shocking sting pulsing across his body. As Kristoff fell back into the mud, Hyren whipped again...and again. With each snap of his lightwhip, the warden's fury grew. Kristoff's painful grunts echoed throughout the corral, catching the attention of those still in it. His friends beyond its fences saw his fallen silhouette and called out in anguish, but for Kristoff...it all blended together.

He'd lost track of how many shocking lashes had struck his back. Each stung worse than the last, creating new sensations of pain as his body writhed in the mud. And as he slipped out of consciousness, he saw the faces of his past in pulses of the lightwhip's crack. Elsa, Mattias, and ultimately Anna flashed within until darkness took hold and Kristoff's body went limp.


The labor camp's heavy machinery faded from Kristoff's mind. In its place came the sounds of blasterfire and tossed explosives. Smoke revealed the Jedi Temple as its sacred pillars crumbled.

"Atrium is secured for now and there's a Jedi still down on the first floor," Kristoff spoke. Is voice was ghostly, as if he was listening to himself speak in the memory. "What are your orders, Lyn?" He leaned closer when she didn't answer. "Ma'am?"

There stood his ally...much younger at the time. Wearing her temple security guard uniform, she observed the carnage and murmured, "We run."

"To another rendezvous?" Kristoff inquired while Sven snorted.

"No, Blondie." Lyn persisted. "We leave. Just the three of us. All that's left of this garbage initiative. Clearly whatever the clones are doing here is against the Jedi Temple and its Order. We can probably walk away from this unscathed."

"Cadet officer?" Kristoff worried. "What are you saying?"

Lyn looked around betwixt the temple's destruction. "We played our part, Blondie," she said. "We don't owe the Jedi anything. Not to lay down our lives for this. Think about it for a second. The Republic military is attacking them. What if we're on the wrong side?"

"That doesn't make any sense," Kristoff groused.

"We may not get another chance," Lyn said, eyeing the temple's main entrance. "More clones will be coming. Whatever this is...whatever aftermath is upon us. We can outlast it together. People like you, Sven and I are survivors."

Kristoff peered over the balcony and observed Elsa's weary face. Shaking his head, he only gripped his rifle tighter. "I'm sorry, cadet officer. But I'm not leaving my friends behind."

Lyn's social demeanor faltered. Her postured stiffened as she stepped away from Kristoff and Sven. "Then you can die with them," she said. "And here I thought you two were the smart ones." Without another word, Lyn vaulted over the balcony and sprinted towards the entrance. She fled into the night, not once looking back at the opportunity she was given nor the Jedi in peril.

The first sensation to return was that of a tumultuous ache. The lightwhip's stings persisted long after the blows were struck and Kristoff slowly stirred. "That's it," a grizzly voice beckoned. "Come on back." As Kristoff opened his reddened eyes, he found himself surrounded by the Rancors...with Lyn at their center. She knelt down for a closer look at him. "Well, well...Blondie in the flesh. I had to see it to believe it." Kristoff's first instinct was to bolt upright and inch himself away. His reaction caused the Rancors, especially Jub, to cackle as Lyn continued. "That's a fine way to say thanks. You're lucky I recognized you from afar. Otherwise the warden would still be whipping you into an ash pile."

"Lyn," Kristoff uttered.

"The one and kriffing only," she boasted with a hefty flex. She hauled him to his feet, caring little for the pain it caused his body. "Where'd the time go, eh? You look good. Whipped to shit. But good."

"I tried to warn'em boss!" Jub chuckled. The Rodian's thick snout swiveled with each laugh. "I told him that he and that antler buddy of his would want to join us. But they wanted to be all smart-like!"

Raising her brows at the description, Lyn put an arm around Kristoff and made him wince again. "No kriffing way. So Sven's here too? It's a small galaxy after all. Now what's this I'm hearing about you rejecting sweet...sweet Jub?" Lyn exaggerated a frown and pinched the Rodian's chubby cheeks.

"Don't toy with me," Kristoff fired back. "Sven and I would never join your...gang."

While his words made the majority of Rancors cackle, Lyn seemed genuinely offended. "Gang," she scoffed. "Open your eyes, Blondie. We're living in hell...and this is the closest you'll come to society again. A culture of the strong. Survival of the fittest. Why do you think the Empire let's us do as we will? Look around." Lyn forced Kristoff to pivot with her as she gestured to the filthy corral. "They're struggling to maintain this stinkhole as is. They need us to keep the mines going. And we're catered to for it. Glory to the strong!" she brayed.

"Glory to the strong!" the Rancors chanted back.

"All this talk of strength," Kristoff grumbled. "Why not use it to fight back and get out of here."

Lyn laughed to herself. "Oh Blondie, Blondie, Blondie..." She squeezed his shoulder, making his wound sting further. "Even I know my place in this food chain. And if we wanna stay alive, fighting the Empire isn't the way to go about it. Been there...done that." Lyn paused, observing Kristoff's bewildered stare. "What?" she initially asked until her scowl became a boisterous guffaw. "Oh no...no no no. I've seen that dumbfounded 'say it isn't so' look before. And let me guess...you fell for it too?" Kristoff remained baffled as Lyn elaborated. "We need to rebel," she jokingly declared. "There are more cells. Together we can defeat the Empire. Sound familiar? Tongla!" she snapped and pointed at a Snivvian in her ranks. "15th Battalion. Madam Retlusia over there? Mist Company. Gerlek! 22nd Attack Squad. And on and on and on," Lyn growled while dragging her finger past multiple brutes in her gang. "All of us brainwashed with hopes and dreams of joining a larger rebellion. Even me," she sighed. "Jub and I were part of Thunder Squad." She grimaced while recalling the title. "Some name. We sign up under some Fulcrum fool and are promised pay for every Imperial target we hit. Little did we know, our squad would be captured shortly after our first mission."

Jub chuckled. "I'm betting something similar happened to you, eh rebel?" he nudged Kristoff and laughed harder when he shuddered away.

"That's a yes," Lyn quipped. "Everything you're feeling is very real, Blondie. I was the same way at first, but it didn't take long for me to wake up in this hellhole and see the truth." She leaned closer and brought her voice down to a grumble. "We're all going to die in here. The Empire can't be defeated. So the only salvation we have is to live like rulers under their thumb. You get me, Blondie?"

"My name-" his nostrils flared as he looked her in the eyes. "-is Kristoff. And you're wrong. I saw it with my own eyes. The rebel cells united before we were captured."

Lyn shook her head in denial. "All these years...all this war...and you're still that dumb boy from the Jedi Temple. Last chance," she professed and extended a hand to him. "Join the Rancors and live the rest of your days with dignity. Or suffer every waking moment of your wasteful existence." The Rancors murmured to one another as Kristoff swiftly stepped away from her. Lyn curled her open palm and cracked her knuckles. "I was trying to save your life you kriffing idiot. Consider that the only courtesy you'll ever receive here on Wobani. You can think on it the next time you're left bloody and beaten. If your brains are still intact." She stepped away and angrily swished her arm. "Get him out of my sight."

At her command, several Rancors stomped up to Kristoff and forced him further back. Once he was out of their portion of the camp, a stormtrooper descended from the sentry post and guided him to the labor corral. As he did so, Kristoff continued to understand exactly how tolerated the Rancors were. The productive gang had been given so much leeway, that the stormtroopers were waiting to see if Kristoff would be indoctrinated into the group. Once he rejected them, his time of luxury was up and it was back to slaving away. As soon as they were through the gates, the trooper practically threw a drill in Kristoff's hands and shoved him to his group. The trooper's firm hand had Kristoff wincing from the whip stings on his back.

Lain, Sven, Beni and Tooka were mining away when they noticed their companion. While they wanted to show greater enthusiasm, fear and exhaustion hindered their bodies. Instead, Kristoff was welcomed by their widened eyes. He got a gentle nudge from Sven and pat from Lain as he assimilated back. For nearly half and hour, no one spoke amid the mind-numbing toil. Doonium chunks stacked up, and yet no word was uttered. A distinct heaviness fell over the inmates, still processing all that they'd experienced in the last forty-eight hours. When sound did return, it was often Lain's wheezing cough...which worried Kristoff. Beni kept glancing at Tooka as the child worked silently. At a lost for words, he tried reaching out to her. But as his fingers reached her shoulder, the Twi'lek scurried away.

"Tooka," Beni croaked, his vocoder crackling.

"She just needs time," Lain tried to assure the old Ithorian.

Beni peered over at the child as she mined in a different pit and sighed. "I was just...trying to protect her," he lamented. "I'd been in here so long, I'd forgotten what the rest of the galaxy was like. What my life even was. But when Little Tooka came, I gave myself...a purpose again. No child should see a world like this, and I thought I could make it just a little bit brighter." His eyestalks grew watery with long-awaited tears. "But I was wrong. I was wrong about everything. Her innocence is just another pure thing the Empire has crushed."

"What's someone her age even doing in a place like this in the first place?" Lain questioned.

"I overheard the troopers talking once," Beni admitted. "When you're old, no one takes you seriously anymore. And sometimes that works to your advantage. Anyways, they said her sister is one of the Ryloth Insurgency commanders under Cham Syndulla." Kristoff's head perked up at the rebel leader's name. "They're holding Little Tooka here as leverage, in hopes that the insurgency will come to an end."

"Bastards," Lain cursed. "Not even children are safe from the crossfire in this fight. Well no matter the outcome, I find it very noble that you were willing to take Tooka under your care. Should we all survive this, I have to go on believing she'll thank you for it some day."

As the group continued mining, Tooka lost herself in digging on her side. Normally she'd be excited to reach a new vein, and instead grew frustrated as she drilled through layer upon layer of oozing muck. Flustered, she prepared to toss her drill down when a gloved hand cupped her wrist. It used enough force to slow Tooka down, but not enough to hurt her. As the Twi'lek looked up, she observed the stoic brunette who'd saved her during the night.

"You," Tooka gasped and eased out of her grip.

"Never show how angry you are," the woman said. "Don't give them the satisfaction."

She quietly got back to drilling as the woman joined her. Slouching as she looked over, Tooka spoke up. "Th-...thank you for saving us." The woman nodded and helped her keep clearing mud. As she persisted, Tooka ultimately powered down her drill and huffed. "This isn't a nice place at all, is it?" she asked.

"No," the woman spoke without a hint of inflection.

"And funfood...that's not real either, is it?" Tooka mumbled.

"No," the woman answered again.

Tooka knitted her brows. "Can't you say anything else? Why do you sound like that?"

"Because-" the woman sighed and met the Twi'lek's worried gaze. "I used to see things like you do. Full of wonder of excitement."

"What happened?" Tooka asked.

The woman stayed silent at first, and stared at the eerily smooth groves they'd been excavating. As she looked long enough, she imagined blades of grass sprouting from a home long forgotten. And amid that grassy surface, she envisioned an older woman sprawled out...with a smoking blaster wound in her chest.

The sounds of mining equipment brought her back to the present as she picked at her thumb. "I lost," she answered simply before hardening her resolve. "But it isn't all bad. There's something powerful about having nothing left to lose."

Her final comment intimidated the child as Tooka gulped. "Who are you?" she asked.

The woman squinted and scanned over the Twi'lek, as if seeing if she was trustworthy of even a name. "Liana," she ultimately answered.

"My friends call me Tooka."

"Keep your head down, Tooka." Liana said. "It will save your life in a place like this."

As the conversation grew more intense for Tooka, she ultimately inched away and returned to the others' mining deposit. As if trapped in some maniacal loop, she arrived just as Lain said, "No more trouble. We keep quiet and do everything the Empire tells us to do."

"So that's it," Kristoff huffed while Sven snorted in protest. "We just-" he drilled angrily. "Give up?"

"No," Lain coughed. "Meeting tonight," he added, being sure to separate his words while shoveling. "Our trench."


No one dared to close their eyes after the previous night's events. As Kyber Squad and their friends remained hyper vigilant, Lain presented his plan under the cover of their trench. "I understand the fear," the Pantoran lamented. "But the Rancors likely won't attack two nights in a row. They're smarter than that, and will wait for our guards to drop." As his group calmed down, they huddled closer in the darkness. "Right now, this is the only circle of trust we can rely on."

"What exactly are you getting at, friend?" Beni worried. "We don't have the influence, nor the strength to take on the Rancors."

"This isn't about starting a gang war-" Lain assured. "It's about getting out of here. A massive breakout is far too dangerous. But a small group like ours has a better chance."

"E-escaping?" Little Tooka uttered. "But how?"

Lain leaned in. "I've been observing every corner of this place since we arrived," he said. "And while our options are limited, that doesn't mean our hope has to be. During the turbo tank drive to this camp, I noticed that there are massive stretches of wasteland just outside. No outposts at all. Likely because the Empire stripped them clean and moved on."

"I can verify that to be true," Beni said. "Some inmates in here are from older mines that were dismantled at those sites."

Lain nodded at the affirmation. "The Empire is only concerned with what we mine in here. And any happenings within these walls and fences. That's where all of their security is stationed. But even upon entry, I realized their resources are spread thin. They can't even get us prison uniforms."

"And I can confirm from Lyn," Kristoff added. "The Rancors get away with their crimes because the Empire needs them to keep operations running."

Lain's mustache curled with a faint smile. "This place is on its last legs and trying to pass itself off as a fortress."

"I admire your enthusiasm-" Beni professed. "But I still don't see how you think we can just escape. Underfunded or not, this labor camp has enough troopers to gun us down at any exit."

"We tunnel," Lain answered and gestured to the trench around them. "The Grand Corral is so disease-ridden, that the Empire doesn't even enter unless it has to." Lain clutched a shredded, human-sized section of tarp from one of the collapsed tents. "This debris from last night's fight is the key to it all. Every night, we'll dig. Not in massive chunks, but little by little. And we'll cover our tunnel with this tarp. I know it seems insane, but this...is our only way out."

"You know Sven and I are in," Kristoff said without a moment of doubt. The Cevrian snorted and Lain looked to Kristoff for a translation. "For Dee." Lain nodded respectfully as they waited on Beni's response.

The elderly Ithorian sat with his back against the trench's wall. Nervously twiddling his bony digits, he let his vocoder crackle with anxiety. "Your cause is...noble," Beni finally said. "But to tunnel out of here is just-...We'll-...If we're discovered-"

"We're going to die in here either way," Lain said, even if Little Tooka had to hear it. "And I for one will not be killed slaving away for the Empire or slaughtered some blasted thieves. If I go, I go giving my last breaths for freedom."

Beni hung his broad head and peered over at Tooka. While he expected the Twi'lek to show resentment towards him, she instead extended a hand. Taking his fingers in her palms, she clasped them with any love she could salvage. Thinking of any semblance of a future for the child, Beni ultimately nodded. "I suppose it's not like we have anything better to do in prison."

"Mr. Lain," Tooka suggested. "I think I know someone who'd be great to help us tunnel. Her name's Liana. She saved me and Beni last night!"

Lain simpered at the child and gently pat her shoulder. "Let's...try to keep our group as it is, Little Tooka. We don't know who we can trust." While Tooka huffed, Lain returned to address his group. "We start tunneling tomorrow night. Gather what tools you can during the work shifts and keep it discreet. Tentpoles, a drill...even a spoon from the slop machine. Anything helps. And no matter what, maintain a low profile. The less attention we draw to ourselves, the better. Especially from the Rancors. Watch each others backs."

And with their plan set in motion, Kristoff felt a sliver of his spirits reinvigorated. As if even though they were in the Empire's cage, the Rebellion's spark lived on.

One Month Later...

Wobani's dust clouds had only risen in number and volume. The camp's corrals were as industrious as ever, with laborers muscling through their designated tasks. Overlooking the Grand Corral, Warden Hyren gently paced along a sentry tower's balcony. As he did so, Lieutenant Croy kept filling her datapad with hours worth of notes. "Still trying to play economics, are you?" the warden snarked.

Realizing she'd been caught, Croy sighed and gestured to her datapad's statistics. "Respectfully sir, I don't know how long the prison can maintain functionality under these conditions. Without serious upgrades, the corrals won't be able to keep up with fluctuation populations."

"Our infrastructure is just fine," Hyren insisted despite Croy's protests. Before any rebuttal could be offered, the warden gestured to a group of prisoners shifting along the Grand Corral's side. "Astounding, isn't it?" Hyren asked. Unaware of Croy's raised brow but realizing how much he'd talked, Hyren huffed. "Many of these inmates were prisoners of this-" He could barely stomach the word through his grimace. "Rebellion...a rabble which prides itself on serving a greater good."

"Sir?" Croy worried.

"But look at them," Hyren continued as his cybernetics zoomed in on the corral. As Croy leaned over the balcony, she watched as Lyn charged forward. With a flourish of her hand, the Rancors' leader sent several gang members rushing towards a single inmate. This isolated Zabrak was easily overrun as they pummeled him into the dirt. And as his horned head disappeared under a swarm of fists, he was stripped of his boots and well-maintained vest. His excavating tool was ripped from his stomped, broken fingers and passed to Lyn.

"Glory to the strong!" she cheered.

"Glory to the strong!" Jub echoed as he and the other Rancors laughed together. As the group celebrated, the brutalized Zabrak was left limp and wheezing, critically brutalized beyond recognition.

All Hyren had to do was nod to the Captain Moltre, and the routine procedure was clear. As the trooper descended to clean up the victim, Hyren returned to Croy. "This is an outrage," the lieutenant said. "It shouldn't matter how productive this...this gang is. They cannot be allowed to persist like this. We are the Empire!"

"Well-" Warden Hyren sighed. "You're right about the last part. We are the Empire. And that's what makes us superior to those we rule. Why do you think we've lasted as long as we have throughout the galaxy? Since you were a child? Because unlike the weak Republic, the Empire demands order. It demandsthat every crime and kindness is balanced, lest it all come crashing down."

"And yet-" Croy croaked and Hyren glared at her. Swallowing hard, she persisted. "-you allow the mistreatment of those not involved with this gang to continue. Regardless of my rank, your actions are cruel."

"Cruel..." Hyren sucked his teeth. "If I wasn't here, they'd do far worse to each other." He folded his arms and observed the rowdy gang below. He watched as Captain Moltre approached the wounded Zabrak. "History will deny it...politicians will shame it...and those living it will do whatever it takes to sleep at night. But that doesn't change the simplest truth..." Moltre aimed his blaster at the Zabrak's face, even as his barely twitching hand reached for mercy. "The galaxy needs cruel people. Because we're the only ones who can make the decisions to maintain order that no one else can."

Croy flinched as Captain Moltre executed the Zabrak. The blastershot rang out across camp, making inmates fall back in line while the Rancors simmered down. While Croy remained still, her breaths were short and rapid. Warden Hyren, calm as ever, stepped closer and leaned just past her ear. "They were always savages, lieutenant," he said. "We just put them in a corral."

Trivia:

- Lightwhips were a weapon favored by Zyggerian slavers.
- Dee was a reused character. She first appeared as a similar type in my 2017 Star Wars fanfic "The Last Nite Owl."
- The Ryloth Insurgency has been going on since the fall of the Republic, as Cham Syndulla has constantly been fighting for Twi'lek freedom. This started with liberating them from the Separatists...which would transition into fighting against Imperial occupation.
- Ithorians, Rodians, and Pantorans are common in this fanfiction...as they are the author's favorite species

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading this week's chapter of "The Frozen Force!" I'll see you next time for ACT IV: ANNA.

Long Live Imagination and May the Force be with You,

~ Sparks