07-08-2017, 08:54 AM
The officer seems more than happy to take the datapad and the credits. His grin is less than happy to look on, though. "Arrest them all. Smuggling and bribery." The troopers point their rifles menacingly at the crew near the door. "Hands up!" Two keep them covered while the rest storm the ship to take down any more crew. Everyone is herded into a corner where they are searched and cuffed. There they wait on their knees while a scanning crew heads into the ship. They come out awhile later with the Jawa and smiles of satisfaction of finding the weapons cache. None of them seem interested in what she had to say. The last thing they hear from the officer before being tossed in a hlding cell is "your ship will be confiscated to pay for your defense and related court fees as well as the costs of your incarceration."
After a few hours of waiting in a windowless cell, the rebels are escorted to the windowless hold of a ship. There they are forced to sit and wait until they arrive at their destination. At least there is food, poor as it is, and the credit account they had to sign for to get it was under aliases soon to be ditched.
After a lengthy trip, which could of been hours but felt like days, the ship finally lands at the prison. A handfull of no-nonsense guards leads the crew from the landing bay to a pressure door. Each person is given an old, crusty respirator that they have to hold up to their faces. The smell is less than pleasant. The door opens up to a barren surface dimly lit by the reflection of a gas giant. The thin atmosphere is chilling, but at least the gravity is close to normal. As they walk from the landing area to a large cluster of buildings, they see a lot full of old ships. Most no longer look spaceworthy.
Inside, they are all stripped, disinfected, scanned, and handed back their clothes, now moist and reeking of disinfectants. Except the Jawa. She, like the Wookie, is scanned at arm's length. One with a look of fear, the other a look of disgust. They are then ushered into a receiving area with two levels of cell blocks on either side. The other inmates jeer at them from their cells as the rebels are escorted into an empty cell and locked away. During this whole process, nobody says anything to them other than some form of 'shut up.'
After a few hours of waiting in a windowless cell, the rebels are escorted to the windowless hold of a ship. There they are forced to sit and wait until they arrive at their destination. At least there is food, poor as it is, and the credit account they had to sign for to get it was under aliases soon to be ditched.
After a lengthy trip, which could of been hours but felt like days, the ship finally lands at the prison. A handfull of no-nonsense guards leads the crew from the landing bay to a pressure door. Each person is given an old, crusty respirator that they have to hold up to their faces. The smell is less than pleasant. The door opens up to a barren surface dimly lit by the reflection of a gas giant. The thin atmosphere is chilling, but at least the gravity is close to normal. As they walk from the landing area to a large cluster of buildings, they see a lot full of old ships. Most no longer look spaceworthy.
Inside, they are all stripped, disinfected, scanned, and handed back their clothes, now moist and reeking of disinfectants. Except the Jawa. She, like the Wookie, is scanned at arm's length. One with a look of fear, the other a look of disgust. They are then ushered into a receiving area with two levels of cell blocks on either side. The other inmates jeer at them from their cells as the rebels are escorted into an empty cell and locked away. During this whole process, nobody says anything to them other than some form of 'shut up.'
